Me vs. Myself

There is a fight going on inside my head between two different voices. Now before you go diagnosing me with multiple personality disorder or schizophrenia, please realize that i am being a little bit figurative. I know that these two voices are both me, but they are not agreeing. They are sending me very mixed messages, or I suppose, I am sending myself very mixed messages.

The first voice keeps saying, "Hang on, Janna. Don't give up." And the other voice is saying, "Let go! It's not worth it. There is more out there than this. More out there than you can even imagine." I have a hard time with this argument because I can see so much logic behind both of the arguments. I suppose it makes sense that in an argument I'm having with myself, both of the participants would be quite logical, like I coincidentally am also.

The first voice appeals to my sense of commitment, and also to my idealism. Although I have quit at a few things in my life (working at a call center, an English class in high school...), I would hate to think of myself as a quitter. Quitting is something I have been taught not to do. When I start something, I need to work at it. When it gets hard, I need to work at it harder. If someone would tell me I should quit something just because it was hard, I would tell them they should learn how to stick to something even when it is hard. I have learned in my life that often the best experiences are only discovered when I push through a hard time, trusting that it will be worth it.

And that's where the appeal to my idealism from the first voice comes in. Along with my value of commitment comes a belief deep down inside that I can find the good - in a situation, in a relationship, in the world - if I just work hard enough. I have this hope that what convinced me in the first place to commit to something will prove true. That it will be worth it in the end.

And then there is the second voice telling me to let go. Although this voice is telling me to move in the opposite direction, I see logic in this argument as well. As much as I may be in the habit of hanging on and seeing things through, I also know that life is bigger than what I can see. I know that there are some things that you can only experience if you let go of other things. I know that some experiences are mutually exclusive, and that by choosing one, I may be closing the door on another, potentially better one. I suppose the second voice is telling me not to settle. Not to let what comes easiest be the automatic decision.

When I first realized that this argument was going on in my head, I felt like the first voice was telling me to hope, and the second voice was telling me to give up. And so I was resistant to the second voice. But I think that both these voices are telling me to hope. They are both rooted in a deep hope that I can find what is best in life. The first hopes that I already have found what is best, and with enough work it will become that. The second hopes that although I haven't yet, I can still find what I am looking for.

And so I think there is a third voice inside. A third voice that is telling me not to hope. A voice that says I should give up and stop searching for what I'm looking for (I don't necessarily know what this is yet). This voice has some truth in it too. This voice says, "Look at how much it hurts when you hope and get disappointed. Look at how much it hurts. Is it worth it? This can happen again. This will happen again. Is it really worth it?" And part of me says, "No, it's not worth it. Why do I torment myself with this hope? I just keep getting myself hurt." And another part of me - the part that the first two voices come from - says, "It is worth it! It may hurt to hope and get disappointed, but it will hurt more to never hope at all." And this is the strange thing. Hope hurts. Hoping is setting yourself up for disappointment. But without risking disappointment, you will never experience what life can really be. You will never experience the joy of hope.

And so, the battle between the voices in my head continues on. Voice One is ahead one day, Voice Two wins out the next. And to be honest, there are times when Voice Three seems to be the only voice I can hear. But Voice Three - although it musters up its strength and swings with all its might (and sometimes it can be pretty strong) - can't win in the end, because it is outnumbered. Voice Three will always lose, because more than anything else I know, I know with all that is in me that there is hope. There has to be.