What If You Are the Monster?

I was reading an article this week about "The Monster At the End Of This Book." If you've never read it, you should. It turns 50 this year. It's fabulous. Sure, it's a kid's book but it's still fabulous. Grover from Sesame Street finds out that there is a monster at the end of his book. He gets scared and comes up with more and more complicated ways to prevent the reader from turning pages, hoping to not get to the end of the book. Of course, at the end, it turns out that Grover IS the monster at the end of the book.

I've been looking a lot, at why I never feel like I accomplish anything, even though I accomplish a ton. I never feel that I am productive enough even though friends and family continually marvel at how much I actually do. In my head, I am never doing enough. I blog. Write books. Teach yoga. Work at multiple jobs. Make art. And on an on. Yet, I still feel like I'm not doing anything.

I've come to the realization that I have a tyrannical, demanding monster in my life. She is never satisfied. She preaches self-care but seldom partakes of it. She beats herself up over not doing more and more after that. Worse than the discovery of her existence though, is the realization, that she is me. I am the monster at the end of the book.

I've read a lot about boundary setting. I get that it's important for your mental health. But what if YOU are the person who is disrespectful of your boundaries? What if YOU are the person who is constantly pushing for more?

Several years ago, after five miscarriages, my daughter passed away when she was four days old. The aftermath of this sent shockwaves into my life for years. Finally, after battling depression and anxiety for years, I decided that I needed to start doing things which scared me. I decided that as long as it didn't hurt anyone, I would do whatever I wanted. I would not wonder if I was good enough or if I was even capable. I would just do things. And do things, I did. Big things. Scary things. Ambitious things. Things which surprised even me.

It was a useful coping skill. It may have even saved my life. But I'm not sure it's useful anymore. Now, I'm struggling. I always have to be "doing" which leaves little space for "being". Different strategies are useful in different parts of our lives. I recently advised a friend to look carefully at her "toolbox" of coping skills. I told her to dump it all out on the floor, keep what was working and discard the things which were no longer serving her.

I'm thinking this is really good advise for me too right now.