There's a reason I don't talk a whole lot; there's a reason I don't like to talk. I am an introvert, yes, but it's not just about being around people. In fact it has little to do with merely "being around people."
Words don't carry much weight for me (which is ironic because I married a linguist). I usually don't fully understand what someone is saying, and what I mean by "what someone is saying" is I don't fully understand what they mean by what they are saying. Words are deceptive to me because I expect that there is something else, some underlying context, in your phrase that I am not going to know and so I will never comprehend what it is you are really saying to me.
That being said, it's not that I don't like talking because I don't trust what is coming out of my conversation partner's mouth, it's that I don't trust what is coming out of my mouth. After a conversation with someone, when I am by myself, I will always, always, go back over everything I said and analyze whether or not what I said came off as obtrusive, inconsiderate, mean, self-righteous, pompous, what-have-you. And it paralyzes me. I become incapable of doing or thinking about anything else for fear of how what I said came across. And eventually, thinking about what I said makes people think of me.
I hate that I'm like this. I hate that I do this to myself. I try to be confident in what I say, but I still ruminate over it day after day. There are things that I said from childhood, fifth grade even, that still haunt me. And I get angry at myself for it. I look back and yell at myself. So if you've ever wondered why I don't talk a whole lot, why I don't have a whole lot to say, now you have your answer.
Hindsight | (c) M.M. Hewitt 2014 Downloading this image for any use without written permission is strictly prohibited.
I love how I have a concept for an image in my mind and I share that concept with my model, but then when I go to edit the image the meaning behind it turns into something completely different from what I had originally intended. I had discussed with my wonderfully brave model (she had just recently had surgery to repair her meniscus and I had dragged her down a hill into this field) how the idea behind the image was how we reject what we see in the mirror, because we don't like what we see for whatever reasons, meant to be added to the discussion relating to the whole issue of women's/girl's declining feelings of beauty and self-worth, but that it's the reflection in the mirror that is our true selves, and that our true selves are screaming for our attention.
While this concept still holds much weight in a possible interpretation for the image, for me it goes back to my above confession. It goes back to my debilitating relationship with words and hindsight.
What is always in your hindsight?