The Five-Story Closet of my Brain

During my first session with Anna, she zeroed in on and brought my attention to two very peculiar things present in my life:  Wet blankets and Gremlins.  Yeah, Gremlins.  Who knew?

She asked me to spend the next week listening for and writing down all the negative voices in my head.  Always the “good student,” I did what she asked, not realizing the range and scope of the endeavor upon which I was embarking. 

I sat at my desk with my journal and listened....

In no time at all, I tuned in to the chirping cacophony of bunk in my brain.  It was as though I’d opened the door to a closet---no, a ROOM........you know what?  Make that a five story HOUSE full to the ceiling with crap.  The door practically burst open, it was so full of paraphernalia, and an avalanche occurred.  It bowled me over.  It buried me.  I could barely write fast enough to get down all the junk that came hurtling down on me.

“You don’t work hard enough.”

“You ate too much.”

“You’re not a good actress.”

“You’re not pretty enough.”

“You’re not pretty, period.”

“You wasted the day.”

“You get too nervous.”

“You’re getting fat.”

“You’ve got issues.”

“You’re selfish.”

“You’re not a good writer.”

“You’re too old to make it.”

“You never get enough done.”

“You’ll never realize your dreams.”

“You’re not emotionally strong.”

“You try to do too much and none of it well.”

“You’re a fraud.”

“You’ve wasted your life.”

“You’re living in a cloud.”

“You’re life is meaningless.”

“You’ve got nothing to contribute.”

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re selfish.”

“No one likes you.”

“No one takes you seriously.”

“This coaching thing is just a waste of money.”

WOAH!!!!!! 

After about five minutes I had to stop.  What the hell was I doing?  I thought this coaching thing would help me.  This did not feel beneficial.  I made a concerted effort everyday, without even realizing it, to quiet this tumult.  It took an extreme amount of energy on my part that I didn’t even know I was expending, but at least I made the attempt.  This summoning felt completely counter productive.  Here I was, giving power and vox to these demons, writing them down in black and white---well, purple sparkles in this particular instance---so that not only did I have to hear them, but I also had to LOOK at them as well, SEE them staring back at me, accosting me from the rose petal-pressed recycled papered pages of my journal with the metal heart on the cover that was meant for recording my sweetest memories and creative thoughts.  What the f@#k?

Anna explained that these were the Gremlins.  They came to rain on the parade.  To make a mess in the microwave.  To wreak havoc.  And ultimately to keep me from my heart’s desire.  She said they traveled the terrain of my brain bearing huge, wet, stinky wool blankets, which they would throw on any fire that burned inside me.  These dampened shrouds of doom and gremlin-gloom would quickly extinguish any light, any bliss, any excitement which bubbled up inside of me.  Wet blankets.

I started to doubt the cogency of this approach to journalling.  It seemed counter productive.  Oh, and I hated it.  It didn’t make sense.  It gave the voices more power.  Writing it down made it true, made it real, made it so.  Screw that!

So, I stopped.  I know what’s good for me and this is not it.  I cleaned up everything from the avalanche and shoved it back into the closet of my brain, and sat there in silence staring out the window contemplating Tony's teeth and the money I’d spent on this coaching endeavor.

Then a chirp from the closet door broke the silence:

“You’re a quitter and you’ll never get anywhere in life.”

I felt my jaw clench and my heart pound.  Then I picked up my purple sparkly pen, laid my hand on the doorknob of my noggin, braced myself, and opened the five-story mansion closet door.....