I can be wearing an outfit I have worn a dozen times before, spend hours getting ready and have a room full of people telling me I look beautiful. I can’t hear that.
All I hear are my thighs touching, the dark circles under my eyes, my long face and this messy hair because who has time for that; and on and on it goes. My inner voice.
After a long day and a successful completion of a project, the boss can say loud and clear “Great Job.” I can’t hear that.
All I hear is the shuffle of my uncertain feet, and the sweat dripping don’t my spine from nerves. I hear that I should have finished sooner, or done better. My inner voice.
My son can run in the house and give me the brightest side-eye-grin you’ve ever seen, telling me how much he loves me as he hugs me. I can’t hear that.
All I can hear is that I should have been the one to pick him up, and I should have been more patient this morning, given him a better hug. Maybe not so tight? My inner voice.
I can’t hear what the world is saying because the voice inside my head is the loudest sound in the entire universe. My inner voice.