Did I Just Say That Out Loud?

Aging, self-talk, and the slow descent into grandma noises.

Me after watching my stories.

I’ve always been loud, so anyone reading the title of this story is probably thinking, “Yeah, Robin, no news here. You have always been loud A.F.” I know! But, hear me out, I think I used to be fun and loud—like the life of the party, cackling, contagious energy kind of loud. Now, I’m turning into just loud-loud, like a person who groans dramatically every time they bend down to pick up the remote.

For instance, my music paused at the gym the other day, and I suddenly became aware of the sounds I was making: sighing, heavy breathing, and weird little effort noises as I lifted weights. I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Was I making a scene?

It didn’t seem like I was, but then again, I was at Planet Fitness. There was a guy next to me wearing jeans and an “Eye of the Tiger” bandana, lugging around a giant backpack from machine to machine—maybe he doesn’t own a lock?

I was fine.

I did wonder, though, was this a momentary lapse in awareness? Had I forgotten I was in public and not at home, where it’s more acceptable to sigh dramatically into the void? This was probably an isolated incident.

But then, while skiing the other day, I realized that every time the chair lift came around, I made an audible “Ahhhhhh” noise as I sat down. I was like an old man easing into a barcalounger to watch his sports. Then later, as I packed up the ski gear for the drive home, I caught myself narrating my every move.

“Okay, the phone is plugged in. Check. Just gotta adjust the mirrors. Check. Ooh, it’s cold in here. Seat heaters on! Directions in place. Alright. We are ready to go.”

We? Who is this we? I was alone. And trust me, for your sake, I’m making this way briefer than it actually was. I had a very long and very loud conversation with myself.

I’m trying to give myself some grace on my new-found loudness because I work from home. Maybe I’m out of practice with social norms. This could just what happens when you no longer have coworkers stopping by your desk to chat about whatever nonsense we all used to bond over when avoiding work.

Am I lonely? Or is this what getting old is all about?

When I was a teenager, I remember my mom talking to herself. It started with little encouragements to herself—a quiet “Way to go, Ro!” when she did something she was happy about. But over time, it evolved into a full-blown, running commentary on her day.

Of course, I made fun of her for it. Just like I mocked the giant Post-it notes she taped to her purse as reminders to pick up milk or go to the post office. I added impressions of my mom talking to herself to my already full arsenal of jokes about my grandmother trying to get out of her recliner. “Ahh. Oooh. Oh. Ugh.” I can still see her in her canary yellow velvet sweatsuit, hand on her lower back, groaning as she tried to stand up.

If they were both still alive today, I’d definitely have to walk back my trash talk because now, after sitting on the couch for more than ten minutes, I get up with a big “Oof.” Then I walk pitched to one side, while slapping my thigh and muttering, “Ooh, my hip.”

Me if I forget to get a highlight.

A quick Google search tells me that self-talk has all kinds of benefits: emotional regulation, self-esteem boosts, stress management, and problem-solving. But I’m wondering if there should be a limit on how far I let myself walk down this path of early-onset grandmaness (E.O.G.).

I might have already gone too far because this morning, on my walk, I chattered away to myself as I navigated the icy sidewalks. I considered (out loud) calling 311 because the Botanic Garden folks hadn’t shoveled their sidewalks. Then I realized I had forgotten tissues and, unable to stop sniffling, I did the unthinkable—I blew a snot rocket.

Yes. I know. Things are getting dark.

Look, I still had the decency to look around to make sure no one saw me do it. But how much longer will I care?

So, my question is this, am I becoming more free in my old age, or am I mere moments away from shouting, “Well, would you take a look at that!” while pointing at birds in my yard?

Folks, I think it’s too soon to tell.

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Speaking of falling apart, this week on my podcast Well...Adjusting, we have part one of a two-part episode series.

We’re throwing it back to last summer when I put myself in the hot seat—getting real about my anxieties, my imposter syndrome, and the fact that I was out here giving advice while completely avoiding therapy. Fun! If you missed it the first time around, buckle up.

But there’s a reason we’re revisiting this now. Just before the holidays, life hit me with a curveball—budget cuts put my long-term freelance gig on indefinite hold.

So, obviously, I recorded an episode about it, and in doing so, I realized how connected it all is. The work I started in this episode? It’s helping me now, as I navigate financial and career uncertainty in real time.

And don’t forget to come back next week for part two. Things get messy, but dare I say… very optimistic too. You can get Well…Adjusting wherever you get your pods!