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I'm so stupid! So witless. If I had a dictionary of invective, I'd hurl at myself every synonym for stupid.
Here's the trouble: THEY can do it and I can't. More precisely: they have done it and I haven't. I'm a failure. A lazy dolt. A miserable specimen with no courage, no heart, and no brain. I'm the entire dysfunctional cast of the Wizard of Oz, all rolled into one useless bundle.
Are you finished?
No, but I'm taking a break. I ran out of words for the moment. You can fill the gap in the meantime, if you have something to say.
Where to begin? I've known you from the very start, you know. I was there when you were born and when you were christened. I heard all the invited fairies describe the gifts they gave you. You got as many gifts as we were allowed to give in those days (the number of allowable gifts has been expanded lately, as you can tell by the global rise in talent). You were given at least your share and perhaps a bit more. Of course, when the uninvited fairy came to lay the curse on you, there was not much we could do about it: it was a double-barreled curse: those feelings of inferiority and-–well, you know what the other part of the curse is.
So far you haven't said anything that makes me feel better. Woe is me. I'm stupid, I'm witless. I'm lazy. I'm a failure.
Will you calm down for a minute? I haven't even started. Remember the mantras. Remember the affirmations. Remember all the positive work we've done (well, you've done it, but I was there to help). Remember that you have everything you need.
Stop with the New Age platitudes.
As your official guardian, I can say whatever I like and you have to listen. Of course "they've" done it. Of course they can do it. Everyone can do it. You are just part of the mob we call human beings. You aren't this precious exception that you seem to think you are. You can do whatever you like.
Gee thanks, coach. But I need a bit more encouragement than that.
All right. You started this thing by moaning and groaning about your inadequacies. Did you hear me singing MY part to you? Did you hear my heavenly voice harmonizing with you?
If I may interrupt here, this is not supposed to be about YOU. It's all about ME. You're just supposed to be helping ME.
Of course. Well, did you hear me singing to you? Did you hear how I praised you and told you that you could do anything? And that's just the beginning. Because the truth is that it doesn't really matter whether you DO anything or not. It's all right for you just to BE—though I'd prefer it if you accepted yourself while you were just being. It takes so much energy for me to pull you up out of these minor depressions.
MINOR?
Oh, be quiet. Listen to me. You can do any of the things you want. All you have to do is DO them. And if you don't want to do them, that's also okay. But stop bitching about it. Either do these things, whatever they are, or don't do them. That's the choice. You CAN do it. You MAY do it. But it's up to you whether you want to or not.
Yeah, but…
No "yeah, buts" are allowed here. And one more thing. I'd like to put an end to this either/or stuff in your head. It isn't EITHER depressed OR on top of the world. It's BOTH/AND. You can have both sets of feelings at the same time. You can be devastatingly jealous of someone else's writing talents—AND you can recognize that they are speaking in THEIR voices. And then you must move on to recognize that only you can speak in yours. And if you hold that precarious balance between the positive and the negative (to use the most convenient terms, which aren't necessarily the most accurate)—if you can hold them both in this delicate balance, then you've found the rhythm of the dance. From then on it'll be nothing but jiving, doing the lindy, high-steppin'. You'll be boogie-ing down that path, and I'll be right behind you, clapping my hands. And that's the truth.
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