With Herculean effort (or Xena effort, and I have come to call it), I pull myself up out of my comfy front-porch morning-bliss, where I have just finished a meditation on embracing joy even in the midst of a global pandemic and racial justice reform. I walk to our home office with my still-full coffee cup and bravely try to drink some, only to splash it down my chin and neck. I laugh at myself, narrating the moment in my head because that’s how I amuse myself when I spend so much time alone.
My voiceover self is often amused by my antics, and it helps me to keep a different perspective (almost literally). Sometimes I worry that this development is new, and is unduly influenced by social media – that I’m trying to live my life for an audience. But then I remember that I have always operated this way. I have always assigned different voices to my inner dialogues to sort out my problems – sometimes as a narrator offering commentary, and sometimes as other voices altogether.
As a child, Donny and Marie Osmond were often assigned different sides of a debate. The mischievous choices were voiced by Donny, and (of course) the good-girl choices were voiced by Marie. And just like on their TV show, when I let my mischievous side take action, I was often gently, lovingly scolded by my inner Marie.
The other day I described a specific struggle and its assigned voices to my therapist. I struggle with being consistent with physical exercise, and the spoken-word piece “Rise and Swim” is very motivating. I appreciate that it acknowledges how strong the struggle to exercise is, even for professional athletes. I falsely imagine (fantasize, really) that the struggle gets easier when people get more physically fit. That there will be a day that it isn’t a struggle for me, and I exercise without fighting it.
My inner dialogue to exercise is a battle between the voices of Xena Warrior Princess and a whiny Woody Allen type (all intellectual with none of the incestuous rapey part). The Woody Allen voice feebly argues that physical fitness is important and that it is one of my important goals for this year. The Xena voice loudly shouts excuses and delays. A third inner voice, the narrator, heartily laughs at the irony of these voices being assigned to those sides of the argument instead of the opposite.
I also explained to my therapist that the well-intentioned suggestion of reversing those voices doesn’t work for me. An acquaintance once said she named her inner complaining voice “The Itty-Bitty Bitchy Committee,” and while that’s completely adorable and I’m glad it works for her, it didn’t work for me. For one thing, the feminist in me doesn’t ever want to stifle an inner Xena voice, no matter what she’s talking about. Instead, it is validating to me to acknowledge the strength of that side of the struggle. That, when I do manage to exercise, it is not because I have overpowered a whiny Woody Allen-y voice, but that I have defied a Warrior Princess who was complaining about the wrong thing.
But to be able to defeat an inner Xena voice, I do have to shift power away from the Woody Allen intellectual voice. I have to summon my inner Gabrielle. If you haven’t watched the show “Xena: Warrior Princess” in a while, Google has a great description: “Gabrielle — bard and friend — keeps her company and helps her stay on the path of good.” Yes! I can acknowledge that my inner-Xena gets misguided sometimes and steer her back towards good. That works for me. Then, that Xena voice can start to be an inner force towards good without having to stifle her at all.
If you have inner struggles, and who doesn’t, try assigning different voices to them to figure out how big or small those struggles are. And don’t be afraid to reassign the voices that don’t fit. But acknowledge it when you do find a fit, even if you don’t like it. I wish my inner Xena always wanted to work for my best interest, but she gets misguided sometimes. Enlisting other voices helps me steer her strength towards my better good.
NOTE: It is intentional here that there are no jokes about Dissociative Identity Disorder, formerly known as Multiple-Personality Disorder. Intentionally using distinct voices to sort out thoughts is not comparable to a mental illness characterized by a fractured identity because of abuse or trauma.