*You know, that thing you’re worrying about obsessively, that has you tangled up in a knot. The one you’re afraid to acknowledge, even to yourself, for fear it will evoke all the evil you’re dreading.
Say his name out loud.
I learned this trick in college, and just had another refreshing dose of its wonder elixir.
The plane is not going to crash.
I was flying to California for an interview for a job I didn’t even want. I already had the job offer I was going to accept, but this trip was booked before that offer came in.
My tragic brain: The plane is going to crash. The trip is unnecessary, and that will make going down in flames all the more tragic. The two were linked in my head with certain cause and effect.
(Dreading a trip to the city I wanted to move to, where I’d get to spend the weekend at the beach with a friend. Dreading. Nonsensical, yes?)
Luckily, I was freaked out enough to say something to my roommate. I remember sitting next to her in Sociology, complaining that I didn’t want to go. And I let it slip that since the trip was pointless, the plane was obviously going to crash. Obviously.
And then we kind of looked at each other and laughed. Like: Huh. That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. And it just came out of my own mouth. I never forgot the power of that confession.
I just have to stick it out for six months. That way no one will think I’m flakey.
My latest wonky line of thinking. I had taken on a (boring) long-term freelance gig. But then! The work I’m really excited about ramped up unexpectedly quickly. Yay!!! Right? Well, sort of.
Luckily, again, I was frustrated enough to let slip to my mastermind private cheer squad:
I’m way too busy and the boring side thing is preventing me from going full speed with my Real Work. But I just started the gig so I should really stick it out for six months or so…
I trailed off before I could even get to the part where I was worried about coming across as a flake.
Because what on Earth was I talking about? Stick something out for six months in order to avoid an awkward “it’s not you, it’s me” conversation?
Poppycock always makes sense in your head.
That’s why you have to say it out loud. The trip is superfluous, so of course the plane will crash. And if you do what’s right for you, you’re letting the entire world down. Be careful, dinosaurs might climb out of your kitchen cabinet and bite your arm off at any given moment.
The caveats.
Choose the right person to confess this fear or doubt or knot. Because there’s always the risk that the other person’s Voldemort has a striking resemblance to your own. Then you’ll be in their blind spot.
The sneaky nature of a Voldemort makes him hard to spot. If you recognized him as ridiculous and therefore a candidate for this trick, well then you wouldn’t need the trick. You have to experiment.
It will either work, or it won’t.
Immediately. That’s the thing about this trick–you know if it worked before the other person even says anything. The second it comes out of your mouth, there’s either a fresh, airy space where there was none before, a new chink in the armor of this belief, or it still feels absolute, scary, and stuck.
Here’s what you do next.
If it didn’t work, abort the conversation. Whatever you have to say: Gotta run, my dog’s on the other line. My hair’s on fire. Whatever. Because if this knot didn’t loosen, nothing the other person might say is going to help. In your paranoia, you will just convince yourself even more persuasively.
If it worked, if you feel relief, go ahead and say: Huh, sounds kinda silly now that I said it out loud.
And let your friends keep poking holes in the idea… soon you’ll both be crying and hiccuping with laughter about your fear of being eaten by a crocodile in your bathtub.
Got any dinosaurs in your cupboards?
Have you tried this Voldemort-stunning maneuver? Or any ideas of how you might use it?
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Well, clearly you have found a way to get into my mind and read my deepest, darkest thoughts
I remember one day when I was talking to my coach about this very subject, of worrying about so many things like this and she said, (trying to poke some holes in my thinking) well, do you worry about going blind and having to learn Braille?
And I said, “YES! I DO!”
And then she was kind of stumped.
Cranky Fibro Girl´s last blog ..Wherein I Need To Have A Little “Come to Jesus” Meeting With Myself
Ha! But one thing you never have to worry about is losing your panache for stumping people with your pure, cranky, delightful wit!
“Say his name out loud”…I love this! For months, I’ll stew about something and then, snap, I tell just one person what’s been locked in my head and the clouds start to clear and everything begins to make sense. Saying anything out loud automatically means the control has shifted from that thing to you. The clarity and strength that arises from this never ceases to amaze me. Thanks for this post!
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