Penelope tells me that I have nothing of importance to contribute to the already loud and noisy environment that is the internet. Penelope thinks she is so clever. And she is. But she spews vicious, critical words at me. She must be so bitter. And for good reason. Her husband left her to go off on some life adventure into the great, vast unknown. I feel like Odysseus sometimes. I identify with him and his journey, because that’s what the journey of the soul feels like to me. I digress. I just found myself overlapping my own story with a mythical one. Oops.
Penelope. Oh, Penelope. You are a loud voice in my head. You tell me things and persuade me to believe them. And I do! I am so gullible, I believe everything you say. But every time I believe you, I discover that you are not telling me the whole truth. You are a deceptive little creature, stuck in that small section of my brain with no escape. It’s no wonder your voice is loudest to me. You are desperate to be free. That makes two of us.
The internet is so loud, you’re right about that. It feels like every time I sign in to Facebook or Twitter (that account was short lived), that I am walking into a room of a million people, viciously attacking one another, competing violently just to take the stage for a small moment of soapbox fame. And once that fame subsides, the fight begins again. There is no rest from it.
But you know what, Penelope? Even though you do speak some bits of truth to me, I decided that your voice is no longer the voice I am to listen to when it comes to decisions about who I am and what I want to speak into this loud world. I’ve decided that I no longer consult your voice. I know you will always be there, and now that I can identify you for what you are, it helps me to identify who I am, too. You are vicious, girl, but I’m over it. Your petty drama is no longer enticing. Let’s see how you react to that moving forward. Maybe if I ignore you, you will realize how small you really are. And maybe that will actually set you free.