Here I am sitting here, running the numbers. If you have ever been unexpectedly unemployed, you probably know how this goes. You cut out everything from your budget to see what your lowest ‘operational costs’ can be. Tighten your belt so to speak. Thankfully, I live a pretty simple life. So, it wasn’t that hard.
After all, it’s just me and the dogs now. And I really don’t get out much.
The numbers work, but of course, the budget is tight. This is something that I hate, but I am practicing some mindfulness. Because the last thing I need to do is run my morale into the ground. I’ve been trying a different approach; treating myself like I treat (almost) everyone else. And that is with cheerleading, compassion, and kindness.
But it doesn’t come easy for me. I am not sure whether it is a condition of my anxiety (GAD and ADHD) or my personality traits. Or a combination of both? Whatever the case may be, when shite goes wrong, the inner critic comes barreling out of her cage. With a cat of nine tails, sharpened at every end.
And she starts flaying me on the inside. While I maintain a poker face that is getting better, and better with time. In fact, you may not even know I am worried. Because it is not the presentation I am going to allow you to see. And not the paralyzing and unempowered mindset I will allow myself to dwell within.
Not because I think I am better than anyone else going through difficulty. Because I know that it is counterproductive. And I need to be on my A-Game. But still, the flaying is happening. I feel it acutely.
The Path of Normalcy Was the Path of Most Resistance
I had to run out to the pharmacy. Pick up some pain medication that I rarely use. You see, my mom struggled with an opioid addiction throughout her life. I (literally) have to be dying before I will touch the stuff. And I kind of feel the same way about booze. But then again, #OhHai tequila when I need to let loose. Nothing works better. And nothing makes me feel worse the next morning. I’m a crappy drinker.
Lately, I have been comparing myself to others I grew up with and went to school with. Yeh, but not the way you think. You see, when I observe their happy lives from the outside, I am not envious in a negative way. Those that got married, and stayed married to the same person? Yes. I am jealous of them, but not in a malicious way. They are clearly a better quality person than I am. Because they got it right.
I always thought I was going to be the girl that fell in love in College. Married, raised 2.2 kids in a cute but affordable house with a fenced-in backyard. And an above-ground pool with a deck (until we could afford to install an inground pool, after attacking the mortgage aggressively to get ahead. My kids would be smart, have strong personalities, be empowered and happy. Boys or girls? It didn’t matter. I love nurturing and teaching. And protecting.
My husband would be my best friend. We would make each other laugh. Be the couple that quietly touched feet under the table. Not full-blown footsies or anything. Just those quiet discreet connections. The sincere ones. The romantic and sweet ones you see senior couples displaying. As I stare wistfully from across the diner and wonder why that couldn’t be me.
I really wanted a less exciting life. A boring and predictable one seems to be what I was aspiring to. A secure one. Less risk-taking. Less exploration, and adventures. Oh… hmm. That really doesn’t sound like me at all, does it? Am I the author of a life lived far from normal, by proxy of my hunger to experience? Maybe. That actually kind of makes sense.
Then comes the reality… the adversity I find so stressful is my fault. Clearly, I chose it. With every partner. With every decision. With every risk I took. With every new thing I tried going off the reservation and the conventional path. Does that make me stupid? Wreckless? Or ‘different’ with the definitive air quotes applied to people who identify as creative nut jobs. Yes. That too.
The Inner Adult is Advocating More Strongly These Days
The inner critic’s voice is mean. What comes out of her mouth, is cruel, and rarely based solely on data. Her narrative comes from fear, and dings left to the hull of your self-esteem. Some things do that in life. The circumstances that happen which you are so certain are your fault? I mean, they don’t happen to other people, right?
Wrong. Ahhh… there she is. Unlike the Inner Critic, the Inner Adult is an advocate, not an assailant. She stands beside me in my mind, not in front of me belittling me and flogging me for my flaws. Or for circumstances beyond my control. Because you see, to the Inner Critic, every bad thing that happens is my fault. With time, my Inner Adult is emerging as a formidable force for rationality. Evidence-based evaluation of the situation in front of me.
And unlike the Inner Critic, the Inner Adult is ON MY SIDE. The consummate protector. Inside my mind’s eye and soul, there are two entities I am acutely aware of. The Child, and The Dragon. I thought The Dragon was my temper and my fury. She can be. But I am learning why she stands always so close to The Child. And today I thought… “Wow, The Dragon is my Inner Adult. The part of me that steps up to protect me from others. And frequently, from myself.”
No, I don’t need psychotropic medications. As a writer and storyteller, it helps me to assign characterizations to these facets of my personality. So that I understand them better. For years The Dragon was my protector, but it never had a voice. And the Inner Adult was a voice, that had nobody or corporeal presence in my head. Now, the two have merged. And I kind of like it.
The Inner Adult Talks Facts (Not Sh*t) to Me
Inner Adult: “So, what are you beating yourself up over today?” [She pulls up a chair and stares lovingly but somewhat sarcastically at me].
Me: “I don’t have a new job yet.”
Inner Adult: “Well that’s crappy. You have been laid off since January 21st. How many days have you been jobless?”
Me: “I don’t know”.
Inner Adult: “Let’s open a calendar and look”.
Click, scroll, and count. I have been jobless for exactly 14 business days. That’s a long time in my books.
Inner Adult: “Shut up, it is not a long time. Do you know how long it takes the average person to get a new job? Google is your friend! Let’s check it out.”
The average is eight weeks. I’m barely rounding week three. Oh.
Me: “Stop smiling sarcastically. I didn’t know.”
The Assumption of Guilt and Randomness of Life and Circumstances Beyond Control
Inner Adult: “No, but you assumed you were doing it wrong. Now let’s look at some other sh*t shall we? You managed to pay your bills independently for the full month of February without selling an organ. [She has a dark sense of humor sometimes and can be sarcastic]. Yep. And you are completing projects that will pay for all your bills through March. By the second week of March, unemployment benefits should kick in. That puts you slightly ahead of the eight ball, yes?
Me: “I guess so. I didn’t think about it that way. I am just embarrassed to be unemployed. Frustrated that just when my social life is starting to be amazing balls, I am under budgetary constraints that are stifling it. I want to do things. Continue to make the progress I was making. I don’t want to be paused, or take a step back. I want my trajectory uninterrupted”.
Inner Adult: “Doesn’t everyone? But life happens, kid. And to make matters more difficult, you kinda suck at giving yourself praise. But you love to criticize yourself. No wonder The Inner Critic is looking a little taller lately. You are feeding it pretty consistently and intently. With bullsh*t if I am being honest. You know, a lot of that is anxiety right?”
Me: “No it’s not, my anxiety is not an issue.”
Inner Adult: “You’ve adapted to life with anxiety, but it absolutely is an issue. A factor that weighs into everything you think about other people. But most importantly, about what you believe to be true about yourself. If you pay attention, The Inner Critic is loudest when you face adversity right? How convenient to kick yourself when you are already feeling a little down, circumstantially. Seeing a pattern?”
Me: “You’ve been watching too much Dr. Phil.”
Inner Adult: “Nice diversion attempt. What would happen if you changed the narrative? What if you really believed that good things were SUPPOSED to happen to you? What if you truly admired your own resilience? Because, if we’re being honest, you are strong AF girl…”
Me: “I don’t feel that way. But people tell me that. I usually think they are just being kind and lying to me.”
Inner Adult: “Nope. You are a fu*king phoenix. Always. I am proud of you. You are not only going to manage this well, but you will also (eventually) come out on top. Because that’s who you are. And what you deserve.”
The Inner Child Waves Hello from Her Safe Place
And behind her, a little brown-eyed girl with long black hair stepped out. She had a dog in her arms and gave me an emphatic thumbs-up. And smiled silently, but warmly at me. Before stepping back behind the protection of The Inner Adult / Dragon, who wrapped a soft but mighty tail gently around her. Blocking out the world momentarily.
But most importantly, the sound of The Inner Critic. Which could not penetrate that protection, and encircled self-love. Not a new thing. It’s always been there. I just didn’t know where to find it. But it turned the volume of The Inner Critic down to a low roar tonight. Long enough for me to consider good things have an equal probability of happening in my life. If I believe them to be possible.
No wonder I have a headache from Hell. There is a battle going on in my brain. And perhaps that is growth. Because we used to surrender to The Inner Critic without a fight. Believe the worst things about who we were (no one of value) and what we were doing (nothing right, clearly). And most devastating was the acceptance of being deserving of bad things happening.
Maybe, I don’t believe that to be true anymore. Or at least, that self-persecuting narrative is backing off a little. And being replaced by fledgling Self-Love. I’m going to lay down, talk to no one, watch a movie with my dogs in bed, and detox the battle for supremacy in my brain. It seems like the ‘good guys’ may be winning anyhow.
For a change.
For now.
