I caught myself singing the other day. Not in the shower, or in the car, or in any of the places where there’s music playing and you’re expected to be singing. There was no background music at all, in fact. Just me, getting up from my desk and singing in my head and switchin’ my butt and mouthing some seriously off key words.
Then the critic arrived, whispered his shit opinion, and the following went through my head. In actual WORD form.
“Oh, stop it. You’re gross, remember?” (‘gross’ being part of the break-up narrative)
First flash: I don’t have a right to be happy because I’m gross?
Second flash: I’m obligated to feel about myself the way others feel about me?
Third flash: I’m obligated to wallow in that shitty opinion instead of feeling better?
Fourth flash: I am required to make myself small so my gross-ness doesn’t offend you?
Every one of these is false, of course. But the demon/critic sits there on my shoulder and whispers them. The addiction/co-dependency people call these “tapes in your head.” They’re thought patterns, like ruts in the road; worn, default, and so ingrained that they actually pull you into them unless you are completely clear. In terms of neuroplasticity, that translates to, what? Who has strategies? Anyone? Bueller?
Lizard brain, rational mind, wise mind. Doing the work. effort, plodding, boring. find the fallacies, substitute ‘normal’ thought patterns, re-wire the pathways. so much work
or, i can just get the fuck outta my head. let it go, fuck it, and let it be. This is as decent an exercise in normality as anything. And it feels better, besides.