The Chatter

I have days where I feel like myself, some may call it Happy. I'm motivated, inspired, full of dreams and ready to take on my life. I'm getting no noise from the dark side of me, the mean side. I treasure those days because I know about that shit storm waiting around the corner. I made a visit there on Monday. A case of the Mondays is one thing, but this was a case of the fuck every single thing I do because it sucks and will never work out. It's a bit more involved than hating Monday. Listening to the chatter in my head allows those days to paralyze me and that evil naysayer forces me to acknowledge that I will never achieve my absurd goals. "It's too hard," he chides "and no one cares what you have to say." He comes with reasons that are hard to debate. "See how they do it, yours is wrong. You should give up now so it won't hurt later." I agree. Then my dreams drop to floor, I walk over them and justify leaving them behind. It's okay because I can do something else. It's hard and it will never pay off. I owe it to ______ to give them what they need instead. I will be happy either way. That is the most detrimental lie of all.

My sister told me about a book or blog she had read about the lies we tell ourselves. Not me, I thought. I'm not a liar. Wrong. I lie to myself all the time. It's called chatter. The bullshit stories that I tell myself in order to stop forward movement. The lies that keep me from being my true self. While I may not lie to my children or my husband, I lie to myself every day about what I am capable of doing. Why is that acceptable? I respect others enough to be honest but I can't stop lying to myself.

After two days of recovery, I talked with a close friend and she asked me where my writing spark was, why did I sound so shaky about my work? I was floored. In one phone conversation, she had honed in on exactly what Mr. Chatter had been bullying me about all week. I was listening to the lies, the dark passenger (I love you, Dexter) who doesn't want a body wrapped in plastic, but wants me to stop pursuing my dreams. The one who wants to go down the well traveled road of mediocrity in order to save me from possible disappointment. He is also the one who likes to remind me how I owe it to everyone else to _________. Even when my heart is screaming for him to shut the fuck up. He's a devious little bastard and his attempts to foil my entire week were interrupted by regularly scheduled programming. The people who love me, and thankfully have a louder voice. Nice try, asshole.