Sink The Monitor

For years I was completely unaware of it and, therefore, was at its mercy – that nagging, guilt-laden voice in my head that told me what I “should” do, be and say.

“You can’t eat dessert in front of him – not on a first date! He may never take you out again. Order a salad.”

“You should recycle that plastic bag. The earth is in bad enough shape without you adding to the problem.”

“Don’t go to the grocery store without your makeup on. You’ll scare people. They won’t even recognize you!”

“Am I talking about myself too much? Are they bored? I need to be quiet so people don’t find out the truth about me.”

These may not be the exact “tapes” that ran through my head – fortunately I’ve erased and forgotten them – but the sharp tone and critical nature of the phrases are all too familiar. They were peppered with negative words: “can’t,” “shouldn’t,” “need to,” “don’t,” “have to.” The harsh voice was the ultimate authority; it demanded obedience. And perfection.

As I began to pay attention to this voice – not an easy task when it was so much a part of my mental processes – I realized that it was “watching” me. It was patrolling my thoughts, guarding against mistakes, protecting me from pain. I dubbed my internal voice “The Monitor.”

Much of The Monitor’s advice was gleaned from the people who shaped my life. “Watch both ways before you cross the street” arrived complements of my vigilant parents, who also gave me: “Pull your dress down over your knees,” and “We can’t afford it.”

Schoolteachers provided excellent fodder for The Monitor’s repertoire: “You have to spell it perfectly to get a star on your forehead.” I think the IRS took a cue from America’s public schools, too: “Your income tax records must be accurate or we will add penalties plus exorbitant interest.” And the icy stare from my boss when I was late clearly meant: “You’ll get fired if you don’t get to work on time.”

No wonder The Monitor had staked such a powerful claim. It was being fed constantly by the ‘outside world.” And I was allowing the groundswell of advice to occupy the Truth Section of my brain without much protest.

When I finally realized what was happening – that The Monitor believed I was still a helpless child who needed fierce protection at any cost – I knew I had to push it aside to hear my own adult voice. But if I heard my own voice, would I recognize it? What if it was gone, or worse, it wasn’t “good enough?” (Oops – there’s that darned Monitor again.)

I needed to Sink The Monitor. To keep me dependent, The Monitor always warned me I couldn’t do things without help. In this case, The Monitor was right. I reached out to therapists, I read a lot of self-help books, I worked with a coach.

Ultimately, though, it was my determination to change, to live a life with more clarity and joy, that conquered my dependence on The Monitor. I learned to notice when it nudged its way into my conversations (and more often into my self talk). I would marvel at its wacky and often counter-productive advice. And then I would bring forward my knowledge, experience and wisdom to create a more resourceful thought.

There are a lot of thoughts in my head. It took a long time for me to sort out the new Linda thoughts from The Monitor automated responses. But every day, every week, every year, I get better at trusting the Authentic Me instead of The Monitor.

I have learned to respect and appreciate The Monitor. It stood tall when I most needed a protectorate. It saved my childhood life countless times and its wise counsel has shaped who I am today. Its influence has diminished, but not vanished.

Yes, The Monitor still lives within me. It still does its (very important) job of keeping me safe when I cross the street. Sometimes, however, I misspell words (thank goodness for spell check) and I eat dessert whenever I like. The Monitor slumbers and I don’t feel one bit guilty.