Tyrants

Your thoughts are lying to you.

They don’t yet know what I’m about to tell you so we should act fast. It’s best to catch them off guard and tackle them in one big group to start, because lined up they go on forever in a daisy chain of misery and loathing. They’re going to fight back. You won’t be rid of them easily.

It’s a long time that you’ve been together and I know you’re really enmeshed in this relationship, that their influence matters so much you’ve built an identity for yourself around them. Do you even know who you are when you’re not Angry, Lonely, Anxious, or Depressed? I don’t ask in judgment because I’ve worn these identities, too, and sometimes will put them on for a brief twirl, like remembering the good parts of an old romance. This isn’t about shame, it’s about untangling a very old knot.

Don’t call me hysterical. I have been there and heard the lies and you will not be the first to point at me and accuse. I know the chorus of tyrants that live in your mind.

I know first-hand because my thoughts are vicious liars and I catch them in it constantly. I’ve been unraveling this knot of my own for a while though and have successfully stripped it down to a few last holdouts, and yeah, we go a few good rounds every now and then. They have told me uncountable lies about myself that have taken years to unravel, and I’m not done. My hands are cramped, my fingertips raw and bleeding, a nest of discarded strands at my feet. But I’m stronger and I know myself better and I keep finding gold and silk spun into every fiber of me.

Somewhere along the way they showed up and hooked you, too. Usually, they come when you’re alone -- a little protector. Don’t raise your hand, don’t make eye contact, don’t get called on, you’re going to get it wrong, one whispered over your shoulder. Don’t wear that, people will laugh at you, one shrieked as you got dressed. Don’t dance like that, oh my god, don’t even dance at all, you freak, another spat in disgust and so you never went to another school dance again.

They have you under their control.

Over the years they slowly amassed into a legion of thoughts smart and good and useful, and you felt safe, confident that they would take care of you out in the world. They had helped you so many times that you truly felt like you could depend on their guidance. Cunning and patient, they subtly took over the whole show, making every decision for you, about you.

Until that one day when your boss yelled at you in front of your coworkers and you just burned in shame, unable to summon a single one of your supposed protectors. Over the next few days, one by one, they chimed with their rebukes until they were a shrieking, taunting chorus: How could you be so stupid? Your boss is right, you know, you’re never going to amount to anything at this job because you’re so pathetic. And then there was that time when you fought with your first love and she broke your heart, and the chorus of voices that sang out included some that sounded familiar -- a relative, that horrible boss, a mean kid at school -- and they joined with the others in the refrain: Worthless, selfish, needy, ugly, loser.

You are their hostage.

Because they were helpful and seemed so invested in you, you surrendered to their plans, never questioning their motives or designs. You trusted them, and trust made you blind to their invisible machinations, raveling and twisting within you, weaving themselves into a spectacular knot of self-loathing, shame, and fear. Like any long-term captive, you developed Stockholm Syndrome and falsely believed they cared about you, that they remained your steadfast protectors. It’s not your fault; I know you were only trying to exist in a world that is too hard and unkind for people like us.

They may be trying to kill you.

I don’t know if it has happened to you yet, but if you don’t start resisting them now, their lies will turn sinister in an escalating series of questionable decisions, emotional havoc, maybe physical harm. The legion of liars in my mind told me I was trapped, unlovable, and better off dead. They took turns finding quiet, unexpected moments to tell me quite matter-of-factly to swallow an entire bottle of pills, to slice my blood vessels open, to drive my car directly into that tree. I don’t know what lies they have in store for you, but I can’t sit idly by while they concoct and scheme your eventual demise. You matter so much to me.

The thing that saved my life was realizing they were liars. I couldn’t get rid of them entirely, but I could reject what they told me, I could disobey at every turn. It didn’t mean doing the opposite of what they said, it just meant not marching to their orders. It meant living, on any terms I could scrape together. It meant untangling that first knot. It meant a weak, shaking warble: I want to live. It meant finding the courage to defy the shame and sing out: I deserve to be happy.

I have looked long enough into the void to see how far that rope goes. I can help you with some of the untying, but there are some places I can never touch. I promise to be here when you are done, or when it’s too hard and you need someone to remind you of how free you’ve become with the loosening of each knot. If you stop listening long enough to the mortal song of the tyrants in your mind, you will hear the softly chanted truth that always hummed beneath.

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The above is a personal essay submitted in Round 2 of the Yeah Write Super Challenge contest in February 2017. Click here to learn more about Yeah Write.