An Open Letter to the Squirrels in My Brain

You can eff the eff off already.

Photo by Bailey Couture on Unsplash

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.