An Open Letter to the Squirrels in My Brain
You can eff the eff off already.
Dear Squirrels in my brain,
First, yes, I know you might actually be brain weasels. Whatever. A rodent is a rodent (vermin are vermin). In either case, you sit there in my head, chittering and chattering away, spewing bullshit at me. And I do not appreciate it.
There are four distinct areas of my life right now that I’m working to improve. My health, my fencing, my writing career, and my self-esteem. This unsurprisingly ties my mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical health, wellness, and wellbeing all together, minus a nice bow. The last thing I need while working on these is you giving me all your crap.
You can go ahead and eff the eff off already.
I know you’re the manifestation in my head of my subconscious doubts. This includes issues with self-esteem, beliefs that might or might not be mine, values in the same seas, fears, and more. You cajole, you whisper, you tell me quietly I’m not worthy, insufficient, not good enough, and doomed to fail. Sometimes your voice takes on a nagging quality not unlike a certain someone. Other times, you sound a lot like me with zero confidence, no conviction, and depression.
I am here to tell you off. You don’t serve me, you’re a lying liar that lies, and I am going to do whatever it takes to make you eff the eff off.
That’s enough of that, squirrels in my brain
I have had more than enough of you telling me that I suck. Enough is enough with all the unworthy, undeserving, uninteresting, unlovable bullshit. Nope, I am done with you causing me ongoing, low-level anxiety.
I frequently find myself with this frustrating, distressing, unpleasant sense of something being off. Not exactly dread, not exactly fear, not quite a sense/feeling of being lost. Just a sensation that something is missing, something’s incomplete, something is lacking. Yet, nothing tangible is there, and I cannot for the life of me figure out why I feel this – or where it’s coming from.
Except when I meditate.
Yeah, you didn’t count on that, did you? I pause, I sit for 15-20 minutes, just breathe. Wouldn’t you know it, there you are. Fucking squirrels in my brain, chattering among yourselves and chittering bitter nothings in my ear.
It’s worse than that, though. You’re embedding that bullshit Into my head, heart, and soul.
If I just go about my day, let the patterns carry me, you go unnoticed. But as soon as I slow down, pause, and spend any time at all looking within, there you are.
You make me feel insufficient, unprepared, and unable to do the things that I can do. And I am done with you and this bullshit. You can eff the eff off, thankyouverymuch.
Pay attention, squirrels in my brain
Let’s talk about some specifics.
My health
I have been exercising regularly for some time now. Rarely do I eat fast food, fried food, chips, and other bad-for-you stuff like that. I meditate, take my meds, see a therapist, and work hard.
But there you are, chittering away in your little squirrely voices. Making me question why I can’t seem to take the weight off, questioning where I am getting it wrong, feeling undeserving of affection because of my perfectly imperfect body. No wonder I am stuck here, it’s all in my head. And you’re the problem.
Shut up. I am not always going to be fat, always unable to shed weight, always behind the 8-ball. You’re wrong, and we’re done.
You know what? Enough. I am tuning you out. I know I can do this and I am going to – while ignoring you.
My fencing
I have been fencing for more than 30 years. No, I know full well I was never one of the ultimate, elite fighters in the group. Nor do I apply the most historical techniques. I might not have the fanciest award, but that in no way lessens my worth. I’m still teaching and leading in the community. I do not suck at this, and am a skilled combatant.
Listen here, squirrels in my brain. I know, intellectually, that the only person I am competing with is me. You shut up and let me take that to heart and release the nonexistent judgment of others that gets in my way.
Still with me, squirrels in my brain?
We’re halfway there.
My writing career
Stop reminding me that my book sales are not where they “should” be. Do you know what “should” looks like? No, you don’t. Quit insisting I should “get a real job” or stop pushing with my fiction writing.
Maybe I’m not great, but I am a damned good writer. I’ve finished 17 books, published 14 of those, and am publishing 2 more before the end of the year and another next year. I’d say that’s not nothing.
I am writing more, my skill is improving, and I know that I can do this. So you can stop being all judgy and annoying.
My self-esteem
Yeah, this one is all about you damned squirrels in my brain. If I slip at all, fuck up, make a mistake, fail my roll, or whatever, you chime in. See? See what we told you? You suck!
But that’s just not the truth. I am a good person. I help other people in any way that I can. Time and time again, I strive to inspire, empower, and be a beacon of light and hope in the world.
Your chittering bullshit might tell me I am unworthy, undeserving, and blah blah blah. But you’re wrong.
I know I’m imperfect. Guess what? EVERYONE is imperfect. Perfection is a myth and in the eye of the beholder. So, squirrels in my brain, you can stop striving to tear me down. I have had more than enough of you.
We’re done
This is to inform you that I’m evicting you from my brain. Squirrels in my brain and brain weasels are not welcome here. It is not unjust, unfair, or some odd prejudice. It’s me setting boundaries, staking my claim, and letting you know that I will not be your whipping boy, punching bag, or doormat anymore.
I know I’m blocking myself because I cannot attune my vibrational frequency with the Universe. I know you can’t do it from the void, and I’ve done the necessary work as such. The problem isn’t me, it’s you damned squirrels in my brain, relentlessly spewing toxic bullshit.
So, we are done. You go right ahead and eff the eff off. No, you know what? Fuck the fuck off, huh? Let me be direct. You and your little vermin concepts are not welcome. I know who, what, where, how, and why I am. You are not part of me, you’re just byproducts of outdated info, criticism both constructive and destructive, misguided tough love, the beliefs of others, bad advice, pop culture, and other things that are not me.
I see you. And you will no longer make my psyche your home like the uninvited guests who refuse to leave long after wearing out their welcome.
Thanks for nothing, squirrels in my brain. Yeah, you know you offer me nothing but self-doubt, fear of suffering, and other bullshit. So, this is goodbye. In the words of Mom on Futurama, “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out. Because I don’t want ass prints on my new door!”
No love,
Me.
This is the six-hundred-sixty-seventh (667) exploration of my Pathwalking philosophy. These weekly essays are my ideas for – and experiences with – applying mindfulness and positivity to walk along a chosen path of life to consciously create reality.
I share this journey as part of my desire to make a difference in this world and empower as many people as I can with conscious reality creation.
Thank you for joining me. Feel free to re-post and share this.
The first year of Pathwalking, including expanded ideas, is available here. Check out Amazon for my published fiction and nonfiction works.
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