Confronting Monsters

Chapter 7 opened with a scene at the waterfront, one of my favorite places at real life camp.  It's a place of zen in spite of the organized chaos.  Whenever I'm there, I close my eyes for a moment to drink in the sound around me.  The happy shrieks of campers being playfully splashed.  The roar of a counselor pretending to be a lion as they tromp around the shallow end with more kids dangling off their back than should be humanly possible.  The thump, thump, thump of wet feet padding the planks of the pier toward the deep end, just shy of running, but racing all the same.  The thwap of a life jacket smacking the water, the last piece of a swim test so close to being completed once they click that strap into place.  The far away voices carrying across the water as rowboats drift further away.  The giggles of a counselor being buried in the sand matched by the giggles of the kid doing the burying.  The slap of UNO cards on the nearest picnic table and the unified cry of disbelief when the winner emerges.   The chat up and down the pier about what each person is thinking of getting at the snack shop later in the afternoon.  That's my happy place.

I'm battling some monsters this week, and they aren't the fake kind from the waterfront.  I began "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron over the weekend.  Unexpectedly, though understandably, the first section is all about creating a sense of safety for your writing, but in order to do that, well, I'll call this the "Who hurt you?" section of the book.  She asks you to think about the influencers in your life - the monsters who thwarted your creativity and the people who were your creativity champions. 

My exploration of this led me somewhere I wasn't expecting, and quite frankly, I'm still processing after some time with my therapist today.  I feel a little raw about it, but that's a realness that I'm not going to shy away from.  I'm learning that my vulnerability is an important part of this whole thing, and hopefully it will translate to the page in a way that feels real for others.  

In broad strokes, I would name my two largest monsters thus far (and she warns that more might show up through the exercises, so stay tuned!) Ms. How Dare-You and Mr. Never B. Good.  Ms. How Dare-You is sort of a shapeless, black mist that can somehow permeate everything and leaves behind a black soot.  Her voice reminds me of the fantastic Julie Walters when she voiced Mrs. Weasley sending Ron a howler.  Everything is that shrill "How dare you?" and usually bends toward "how luxurious it must be to spend your time on something that doesn't put food in bellies or contribute monetarily in a meaningful way."

Mr. Never B. Good is a two-faced asshole.  Sorry for the language, but it's the truth.  He looks like an attractive, 1960s bank manager in an expensive three piece suit.  Someone who has their stuff together and isn't going to spend time with people who don't.  He spends all of his time telling me in a gruff, serious voice that I am not good enough.  There isn't a specific direction for my ineptitude, but more of a pervasive "good enough" full stop that basically just slowly fills the room like the smell of poop you didn't realize was stuck to your shoe.  

Interestingly, because I haven't thought about that particular monster in decades, when I walked back into that room that Mr. Never B. Good hangs out in, not only could I smell his shit right away, but I caught a rare glimpse of him checking out his own reflection and saw that his outward persona is a magic trick to disguise the fact that he actually looks like Jabba the Hut.  It's a lot easier for me to close the door on him when he looks and smells like that.  These days, I'm mostly confident about myself and my abilities, or at least, I have a healthy level of confidence, so I'm just not going to let that asshole see the light of day.

Ms. How Dare-You is a tougher one for me to ignore, because she seems to be everywhere all the time.  I'm very empathic, and a caregiver by nature.  The idea of doing anything so indulgent as focusing on myself and my own needs is completely foreign to me.  (Again, working on it in therapy.)  And yes, I'd like to think that if I write something I enjoy, it might mean someone else will, which means I can count it in the "not entirely selfish" column...but creativity is it's own reason for being.  And me being creative isn't about anyone else but me.  

If I need a reminder of how I've tried spending my time "more productively" I need to recall that I spent six years working a part time job I didn't need just to help out a friend.  That was six years of my life that I felt were passing me by while my friends were out living their lives, being creative, reaching their goals, and turning their dreams into reality. [Sidenote: this friend could NEVER be a monster - he's literally the nicest and anyone would be lucky to work for him - this isn't a comment on the job, but a comment on how I spent my time.]  

So how can I evaporate the mist of Ms. How Dare-You?  I think I'll take a page out of my 9 y/o nephew Quinn's book.  He's in a laser cannon phase.  Loves a good laser cannon.  I'll load the cannon with receipts for all of my paid bills and debts (proof of responsibility and needs being met), my planner for all things summer camp (proof of volunteering), my binder of estate documents that keeps annoyingly popping up (proof of being a good sister), my call log with my older nephew and the random sock Quinn left when he stayed overnight this weekend (proof of being a good aunt), and maybe I'll just wave my phone over it as a nod to all of the text proof that I'm a good friend.  Then I'll turn that sucker on and watch it somehow turn all that junk into a de-mist-ifying laser that targets Ms. How Dare-You at an atomic level and removes her completely.

That might work.  It's a good visual.  And when it doesn't...well, I guess I'll just close my eyes and pretend I'm back on the pier at camp.  There's a protective bubble around camp that no mist of self apprehension or guardian of self worth can permeate.  I'll just emotionally move there for awhile.

What about you?  What do your monsters look like?  How are they holding you back and what will you fill your laser cannon with to evaporate them?