6 Comments

  1. Maryanne
    11/4/2013
    Reply

    Or whenever you have an idea it’s greeted with, “What are you? Stupid?” That’s what I grew up with. It never does go away, but when I became a parent and stopped myself on the verge of repeating that sentiment, only then, did I realize that I was outside my dad’s comfort zone. It never goes away, but some of us are blessed with the ability to put it away in a safe place where it can no longer hurt us.

    • the jodi
      11/4/2013
      Reply

      It’s a little bit harder when that voice is still on the other end of a phone, or sitting across the table from you. But, I try, and I recognize it as not mine most of the time. Most of the time.

  2. 11/4/2013
    Reply

    Can I be honest? I love that shirt…

    • the jodi
      11/4/2013
      Reply

      Thanks, I’m pretty fond of it myself. ;-)

  3. 11/4/2013
    Reply

    Oh, Jodi. Who cares about the fucking shirt? You’re writing looks great on you. (Well, we do care about the shirt a little bit. I get it.) I have my mother’s voice in my head, too, but hadn’t considered who put the voice in her head (I’m a narcissist, I admit it). . And, well, you know. My mother’s dead, but her voice isn’t. I don’t mind is so much anymore, and when I’m in TJMaxx and see women of a certain age arguing with their mothers about whether that sweater makes her look boxy, my heart breaks a little bit.

    • the jodi
      11/4/2013
      Reply

      “Women of a certain age.” Ouch! True, but ouch. My father is dead, his voice still follows me around. Hers too. I know where both those voices originated, so I have some compassion. It’s also one the reasons I chose not to have children of my own–I didn’t think I was capable of NOT continuing the cycle. Now, I try just to get the voice on the page, rather than solely in my head.

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