Voices

To keep from losing my mind from being alone most of the time, I read, write, and, full disclosure, I talk to myself…a lot!  I sometimes have complete conversations with myself as two different people.  One is the voice that is me as I’ve always known myself - the automatic voice…and I will admit, I beat myself up a lot with this voice.  It’s the voice that carries my past and old patterns of thought, that despite being harmful and unhelpful, it’s comfortable and too easy to fall back into.  The other voice is the voice that I wish was here to respond, the intentional voice - the voice of wisdom and healing.  The truly comforting voice that isn’t just comfortable, it’s comforting.  But slowly, the more these voices talk with one another, these two voices are becoming one.  The voice that is my own and the voice that speaks back is slowly becoming the same…nurturing the old voice into becoming the new.  Instead of telling myself not to cry and to get over it, I tell myself that crying is important for the brain to release the pain, and to cry it out.  Instead of telling myself I’m behind in life, I tell myself I’m right where I’m supposed to be.  Instead of pushing myself to be doing more, I tell myself I deserve to enjoy exactly what I’m doing right now.  When I deprive myself and punish myself and believe I don’t deserve anything I have, I picture myself as a little kid and say, Don’t forget about Linn, she deserves to be happy, too.  As this voice is growing, I’m enjoying my own company more and more, laughing a lot more, and just enjoying the view.  

Enjoying the rare summer campfire at one of my favorite campgrounds in Washington.  As long as you have the Discover Pass ($30/year), you can stay here for free, along with many other places to choose from.  This one has running water, fire rings, picnic tables, and even a dumpster.  The only reason for not staying longer is the lack of sunlight to recharge the solar.  Only stayed one night but always a good stop while in the peninsula.

Two trees growing close together, almost appearing as one, in a field of hot pink fireweeds at sunset.