Maybe I’m Late: talking to yourself isn’t crazy after all

I want to destigmatize and encourage talking to YOURSELF as a form of therapy and healing.


The subject is a bit taboo. On one hand people say “ talk positively to yourself to increase or enhance your performance” but on the other it’s “you look crazy.”


As most things, my perception of it is rooted in childhood trauma. I subconsciously remember as a kid feeling embarrassed that I had been caught talking to myself. I don’t know if it’s real or a figment of my imagination but I “remember” standing in(front) of a crowd and people legit laughing at me for it. It was as if they were saying “how dare I enjoy my own company and conversation.”


Growing up, I spent a lot of time alone and in my head. I’m the youngest of 3 and had a decent amount of friends but for some reason would always find myself seeking those moments alone when within a crowd of people. Eventually the thoughts in my head were translated into my journal, then my journal entries became photobooth rants on my Macbook and now are full blown conversations with myself outloud.


Recently, I’ve leaned more into not carrying the shame surounding my habit and even started to unpack why this comforts me. My hypothesis is that I enjoy, and damn near have to speak to myself (whether that be via voice memo, journal, or aloud), because of my fear of not remembering.


I am 30% more susceptible to dementia than the average person because of my family’s health history. I watched as my grandma Jewell forgot who we both were and how I desperately wished she remembered. Ever since then I get a twinge of fear if my auntie loses her train of thought or mom forgets the keys in the front door. I become paranoid everytime I can’t remember details about my past.


Talking to myself, in all its forms, is my security blanket— literally and figuratively. Thanks to this fear, I have years of documentation of my life and the world around me. My blogs, my videos, my articles are time capsules of who Abriana Walton was publicly and privately. So that if one day I don’t remember who I am— the world will.


Nobody:

Me:


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