Feeding the monster

Like befriends like, right?

As such it will come as no surprise that a large number of my friends are as neurotic as I am, and, over the years, I have built up quite a collection of CBT metaphors (the fact that I casually know it as an acronym rather than its full word expansion says something). There are boats to be floated, ropes to be dropped and parrots to be silenced. Quite often I'd like to tie the parrot up with the rope and send him out to sea in the boat.

Generally I don't tolerate these metaphors particularly well. While they have their place and do work for some, I don't really find them helpful - but maybe I'm just jealous that I've never been bestowed my very own metaphor (just give me time). However there is a borrowed metaphor that has resonated with me, not so much as something to help me control my neuroses as much as being a useful descriptive tool, and that is the feeding of the monster.

In this little story, the monster is Worry and the feeding of the monster is giving into the Worry in a futile attempt to shut the monster up. Unsurprisingly the monster never shuts up and just gets bigger and stronger and more capable of mind domination.

I was contemplating my personal monster today while walking the dog (real dog). It was so quiet and beautiful and as I stomped down the muddy hillside I felt like Tess of the D'Urbevilles or Daphne DuMaurier or Jane Eyre (the only one of my hill stomping heroines that's a) not fictional and b) from Devon is Daphne, so I decided I was most like her). Except I was unable to fully appreciate my heroine-embodiment because inside my brain the monster was doing some stomping of its own - up and down on white matter, causing grey matter to go into overdrive.

The monster's current concerns are primarily visa and wedding related. He's not very imaginative. He tends to be at his most active when everything else around me is quiet - at night, for example, or when I'm bored or when I'm ummm in long spells of unemployment...

I don't much mind - I don't really have the will or energy to kill him off. Or maybe it's a case Stockholm syndrome - he's dominated for so long I've come to love him. Either way we've reached something of an equilibrium - feeding him these days is pretty cheap and easy - all I have to do is google my various anxieties or ask Jeremy questions for the 1000th time and he's fed. Temporarily of course, but I don't feel particularly disadvantaged for having him around, although that may just be because of the company I keep.

There was a time when feeding the monster was particularly costly and caused great life-upheaval...

...It was the summer of 2003. I'd just got back from Italy where I'd met an American. He was lovely. We were still emailing / IMing back and forth and we were making plans to for him to visit around Christmas time that year.

At the same time I got a job working for the MOD. The most boring job at the most boring place surrounded by the most boring people. I was bored out of my mind for 7.25 hours per day and then I was staying up til the early hours IMing the American, so I was exhausted and bored.

Prime Monster Prey.

I started to go a little crazy. I didn't think I could wait until Christmas to see the American again. So my mind did something like this:

What if he forgot me? Or met someone else? What if I met someone else and forgot him? I didn't want to forget him. I had a hunch he was special. But he said he was coming over. But what if he didn't come over? How could I know for sure?

The lack of control over the situation was killing me. While I should probably have sat back, cool and calm in the knowledge that the American liked me and was going to travel 1000s of miles to visit me in just 3 months time, I couldn't.

So I fed the monster a £300 ticket to JFK.

My parents were livid. In both meanings of the word - they were so angry they turned purple. I can't really blame them. Their 19 year old daughter was flying 3000 miles to stay with a man they'd never met and she'd only known for 5 days in Italy.

Jeremy was worried - I had to convince him I wasn't coming over with any expectations other than following up on a hunch. Thankfully he shared the hunch or it could have been one big belly flop.

So you could say that feeding the monster paid off. I'm happy aren't I? Jeremy and I fell in love, my parents realised he wasn't a raving-lunatic (although they probably still think I'm one) and the story worked out. Right?

Right. Except that the story would have worked out without me feeding the monster. If I'd sat on my fears, silenced the monster and waited for Jeremy to come to me, nothing would be different except I'd possibly be a little less irritating.

At some point I'm going to have to start withholding food. For Jeremy's sake if nothing else. I might wait a few more months though, until Jeremy's nearby to help me out with the monster starvation - I have a feeling that after years of regular food, it's not going to take being cut off particularly well.