Death of an Interior Decorator

An intelligent woman once told me that I have a very rich interior life. This, of course, was in response to my sharing the complex inner monologue that I am at times plagued with. She knew, like many others, that we emotionally torture ourselves more than we generally allow any one else to. I would agree that is an entirely apt description of myself.

No, I do not have multiple personalities competing for space in my head, but so often the running conversation that I have with myself trumps a million other voices. In countless situations, I have agonized over decisions from minute to massive. I can mull over these choices for days, weeks, and even months. Something within me is indecisive. I imagine alternatives, possible consequences, absurd implications, and the reactions of others. This does little to allow for progression in my self-improvement and relationships with others.

A daydreamer by nature, my imagination flourishes with possibilities and plans for my life and others. I envision my children's future from ten years old to thirty. There is scarcely a limit to my conjecturing. Haven't you ever sat on a bench in a park or a busy street observing the passersby? I have designed their possible conversations judging by their expressions and gestures, creating back stories and more. This activity can certainly engage your imagination when leisurely enjoying an afternoon in public. Sometimes, when driving, I notice people in their homes and find it fascinating that while I am living out my life, they are sitting down to family dinner, watching TV, or sharing life-changing experiences.

With this bizarre confession, I am freeing myself from the bounds of this interior life. I do not intend to over-share my experiences and emotions from this point forward, I only long to build a life outside of my mind. Writing has given me the freedom to express so much of the pent-up angst and release tension that simply does not flow easily in my speech. In turn, my friends and family are exonerated from the burden of my indecision, fear, and anxiety. I will continue to build an arsenal of weapons to combat this rarely productive opponent. After a long full life, raise a glass to toast the death of an interior decorator. May she rest in peace.