(from this site)
Lately, any moment of reflection and silence leads to an interaction with THAT voice. You know the one...the one that says you are no good, never were, will never be worthy of attention or admiration and all the people in your life who say they love you are just waiting for you to die so their REAL lives can begin.
Yeah, THAT voice.
I have taken to calling it Charlie Brown.
This has helped tremendously. It helps me smile at it, a little, when it starts with its inevitable whine about how everything good is happening to everyone else. I have begun to see his little bald head, bending down dejectedly after having the football snatched away yet again (oh, cruel Lucy!). I see the striped yellow jersey, determinedly out of fashion, with its hopeful lightning zag across the chest (Charlie Brown has secret superhero longings, like we all do). I see him looking at the little Red Haired Girl, always just out of reach, embarrassed by the force of his own daydreams.
And instead of shoving the voice down into the deepest, most ashamed closet in my psyche, I listen to it. I chat with it. And I have compassion for it.
But I try not to live by it anymore. I remind Charlie that despite his long history of failure, he never fails to give himself one more shot, one more kick at that football, one more glance at the Red Haired Girl. I remind myself that Charlie Brown is bright, and empathetic, and soulful even when the world calls him a loser and tries to shout him down.
I'm learning not to be afraid of him anymore.
But I'm still going to be wary of brunettes holding footballs.
Labels: navel gazing