You. Me. That person over there. Everybody has them. Demons that sit on our shoulders whispering their promise. Some tell stories of beauty and desire. Others whisper their doubt and hatred. We can’t see them. We can’t hear the whispers of others. You hear yours and I hear mine.
I know the names of my demons. The loudest is Anxiety. This little critter tells me how much you’re going to hate this post. How many mistakes you, the reader, are going to point out. It tells me to delete it, give up, I’m not worth it. The other demon that’s always leaning over Anxieties shoulder is Depression. These two always travel together. Their BFF’s and love playing off one another. When my thoughts give in to Anxieties whispers Depression is there hinting at how I’ll never make it in life. It’s okay to never leave the bed again.
My shoulder is a crowded place. Dyslexia, Impulsive, Hypochondriac, and People-Pleaser…to name a few of mine. Some days they all talk at once. My head would get clouded. Thoughts would jumble making me forget why I entered a room. I’d avoid the woman in the mirror just to keep them quiet. Other days they’d be silent or whisper one at a time. You’re demons and mine are different. They may have the same name but they are not the same creature. My Impulsive demon may make me spend all my money where yours keeps you going out to parties. My People-Pleaser might force me to make you happy by giving you everything you desire while yours makes you dress in all the top brands.
Don’t listen to that Worry demon. There is a way to quiet them. Take my hand. We can do this together. Brush off your shoulders. They will climb back up to whisper in your ear again and again. We’ll have each other, let’s brush them off again. Just as you listen to them I will listen to you. Maybe we can tire out the demons, quiet their voices. They won’t go away forever. Together we can learn to live with them. Make them a strength instead of a weakness. Dyslexia used to keep me from reading, knifed my writing, and added to Depression. The older I got, the wiser I became. I figured out that I would never truly snuff out my demons. I had to hold their hands and grow with them not against them. Find a healthy balance.
And here I am today. Perfectly imperfect. Living with demons that whisper doubts and insanities into my ears. I found my support system within my family and friends, and they found support in me. Together we grow stronger. We get louder. And, we’ve learned how to be happy.
I made this post thinking about a family member who is struggling to grip their mental illness. I wish I could crawl up into her brain and rewire it for her. Or, reinstall her mind. I know those are not options I can give. I can, however, stand by her as she learns her brain. I can give her strength by listening. And, I hope as the time goes by she will find a way to balance herself the way I have. I know what I deal with day-by-day is nowhere close to what she deals with. But that’s okay. I’m here to listen. I’m not here to turn it into a challenge of who’s more mentally unstable. Even if our mental illness shared the same name, it wouldn’t be the same.
They’re never the same.
Wicked Soul Ascension
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