After my walk I feel calmer and more confident about my decision not to blog. Until I see Jill the next morning. She’s got that blogger’s sparkle in her eye. My resolve wobbles ……
But then I hear a defiant snort from my ‘stroppy’ insubordinate voice. ‘Why should you blog just because your friend Jill thinks it’s a good idea?’
- This is my non-conformist voice; subversive; feisty; one who doesn’t care that her humming of ‘I did it my way’ is slightly off tune and a bit too loud. This one has been around for a long time. It’s the voice that helped me resist peer pressure when I was 13 and stopped me from becoming a smoker. It’s the one that cheered me on from the sidelines as I played football in a boarding school where playing football was not considered ladylike.
- You could be forgiven for thinking that this is simply a rebellious teenager’s voice but it has also helped me make the right decisions – both personal and professional - in my adult life. The secret of this voice’s success lies in its ability to never lose sight of its goal (keeping me authentic) while being able to adapt its tone to suit the situation. It has matured but not really mellowed in its intention. At boarding school it used its charm to distract authority figures from my often blatant rule bending. These days it politely but firmly deals with people who share their unsolicited suggestions on how I should live my life. (As in ‘you would be a great Mum, you really should have children’).
- This feisty voice asks difficult questions; it refuses to take things at face value; it challenges ‘dominant narratives’ and taken for granted truths. In a professional context, this enables me to approach my clients with an open mind and to see each story as unique.
Paying attention to this voice has its price. It can mean conflict or loneliness. My life might be easier if I suppressed the feistiness. But it wouldn’t really be MY life.
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