Bitch Please.

My inner voice can be an asshole. I am totally not kidding. She says things that would immediately land me in the corner or worse, with a paddle whiffling through the air with my bottom as its unerring target, welded by my mother (Mama don’t play) were I ever to speak those words aloud.

These thoughts are self-serving and extremely self involved. The kind of thoughts that bring to mind spoiled little sterotypes in movies that are engineered to make you instantly hate the character. Only the voice in my head, she’s an even bigger bitch than that, she has no shame or filters to stop her from saying the shit she really shouldn’t say. Did I mention she only has an audience of 1? A reluctant and generally appalled inner other me that thinks, usually immediately after the thought comes, that this bitch has gotta go.

See, this inner voice is a person completley unworthy of the person I want to be. Usually this rude voice in my head appears when I am thwarted by something or someone getting in the way of something I want or need. Like more time at home, or with my family, a paycheck, or something that is not what I am currently being forced by circumstances or society (generally earning a living falls under this category) to be or do something when I really, really want (with my whole being) to be doing something else. You know, the FUN stuff. There is also that sense of not being seen or appreciated. This often results in bitchy inner voice trying to rationalize her commentry. This rarely works because my other inner voice sooo has my back on this crap. She knows that bitchy inner voice is out of line and has the tools she needs to give bitchy inner voice a hard reality check. Hockey has nothing on my inner bestie. She kicks where it hurts, and having the advantage of knowing my every thought and personal memories, she hits precisely and accurately.


Still, I know bitchy inner voice is in there waiting all the time, for me to be tired and cranky. For me to snap judgment or make an assumption. For me to be hurt or ackwardly embarrassed enough to let my guard down. Then she saunters in like an overly dressed social climber with a Prada addiction to tap on my spine and munch on my shortcomings.

I admit I have an inner bitchy voice. She is not my friend. She has never been my friend. She is all the crap that was ever mislearned from experience. Things that I heard from others being unkind about someone. Things I created to cope with my own shortcomings as a means to explain them. These are the parts of me I seek to change. The parts I seek to admit to and clean out like a newlywed in her husbands naughty cupboard. I am not perfect, and admitting that is the first step to making sense of the voice that is not kind. I forgive her, she is part of me. She is nothing more, or less, than a voice I created slowly over time and years of negative thinking. She is forgiven her existence, but I am slowly changing her into someone more like my bestie voice. I am changing her because she deserves to be called something other than my inner bitch. Perhaps inner champion will be a better use of her time.

I will never be done with this work. It is something that must be done consciously, the way one does their morning chores. I want to never stop trying to be a better person, inside and outside myself.


Published by Bexley Benton. (Pen name)

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog.

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