Hearing Voices
This is one of those things that you're not supposed to admit, but on occasion, I've heard voices. One night many years ago, when my husband was out of town, I was awakened by a booming voice, the kind you imagine that God has. It was a man's voice, a deep baritone. And it said to me, "The ability to evoke emotion with written words is a gift. Quit squandering it." It was a little unnerving. I knew I was alone, but here was this disembodied voice giving me an emphatic directive. I told a therapist friend about it. She laughed and reassured me that I wasn't having a psychotic break. "What are you going to do about it?" she wanted to know. I lived for many years ignoring the message, not doing what I'm clearly supposed to do. Oh, it's not that I didn't write. I did. On the sly . Hoarding the words. Keeping them to myself. but now it's time to start letting them go. So he won't scold me again.