Another conversation with a monster that popped up while I was doing my morning pages. Background: I love to dance. I never do it. What’s up with that? Even though I do lots of other body-stuff, like yoga and lifting weights, there are some things I just can’t do. It felt like a kind of paralysis.
Me: Hiya, Paralysis.
Paralysis: No.
Me:No? You’re not Paralysis?
Paralysis: Don’t be stupid! I’m not talking to you!
Note: my monsters often refuse to talk to me. And then I talk to them instead, and they end up talking to me anyway because I annoy them so much they can’t keep quiet. Pro tip!
Me: Oh, OK. Why not?
Paralysis: …
Me: I was wondering why there are certain things I can’t do, like dancing, or squats at the gym.
Paralysis: Obviously, because you’ll do it wrong and you’ll hurt yourself, and everyone will think what a loser you are.
Me: Loser? Hm. OK, but what if there’s no one around?
Paralysis: Well, then, what’s the point?
Me: Huh?
Note: I was thinking of dancing in private, in the living room with the curtains closed. I thought I couldn’t do it because of concerns I was ungraceful or uncoordinated, but apparently it’s because there’s no point to dancing in private. Intriguing.
Paralysis: The whole point of dancing is — people see you, and think you’re beautiful. But you’re not, so there’s no need to dance.
Me: Oh. Right. Huh. But what if I feel like it would be fun to dance, just for me, like I do yoga. Like the people do on youtube, but without the youtube. They look like they’re having fun. And I like dancing.
Paralysis: It won’t be fun, you’ll get it wrong.
Me: I might get it wrong, yes.
Paralysis: You’ll find out just how weak and stiff and slow you really are. And then you’ll feel awful about yourself.
Me: Hm, yes, that’s a legitimate worry. That sort of thing has happened before.
Paralysis: Yes, it has. See, that’s why. You’re better off not trying, so you won’t have to face how clunky and fat you are.
Me: I see.
Paralysis: And how much your butt sticks out.
Me: But, this is the thing. I am aware my butt sticks out, it’s why I can’t find jeans that fit me. And I’m doing all this other stuff that’s about me and my body, like the yoga, and the working out, and I often find I’m too weak or stiff or unbalanced to do stuff, and it’s OK. I can just do as much as I can.
Paralysis: Yes, that’s OK.
Me: But why? Why is that OK but not dancing?
Paralysis: Because dancing is something you can get wrong. All the choreographies and stuff. You’ll find out you’re not able to do them and then you’ll feel disheartened. Dancing is about being beautiful and graceful, and you’re neither. And you’re better off not knowing that.
Me: But I do know that. You just told me.
Paralysis: Hey, remember back when you tried dancing in that one place, and you didn’t even…
Note: Sometimes it’s useful to listen to the memories your monsters have around the thing they’re monstering you about. You can learn a lot about them from the memories they choose to keep. But me and this monster are old friends, I know all about my embarrassing and painful memories involving dancing, and I didn’t want to get dragged into them at this point. Besides, my monster was just trying to distract me.
Me: Yes, listen, don’t want to hear about the memories right now. I know where you come from. It makes sense that you’re here. You’re trying to save me from embarrassment and pain, and that’s nice. Thank you.
Paralysis: Well!
Me: But I’m talking about something else, here. I’m talking about dancing in private. Exploring space and choreographies. Like Dance of Shiva. You’re OK with me doing Dance of Shiva.
Paralysis: Well, yes. That’s because it’s like yoga. And anyway, you’re OK at that, so it’s not so painful.
Me: But Dance of Shiva is not about being good at it.
Paralysis: Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Tell me another one. It is for you, and you know it.
Note: I’m not sure I like this monster anymore.
Me: Well, but I still do it wrong, I mean. I make mistakes all the time, and they’re not painful. They’re just part of learning.
Paralysis: Yes.
Me: So can’t I approach these other choreographies the same way? Can’t I do it like a high speed, extra wacky variant of Dance of Shiva?
Paralysis: Hmm, I don’t know. This feels like a trick.
Me: Part of the benefit of Dance of Shiva is the joy of learning stuff, right? And being able to rely on my body to do things right. And moving to music.
Paralysis: These are some of the things you enjoy about it, yes…
Me: So! Dancing. It’s OK.
Paralysis: I’m not sure about this. But, OK, I guess you can try it. But no squats.
Me: We’ll talk about that some other time.
Paralysis: Sure. Biscuit?
Final note: after this conversation, I did some dancing. It was hard, I made lots of mistakes. It was also fun. I ran into another problem though, and that was space. In the living room, I can actually only take two side steps before bumping into something and the resulting phone box feeling was spoiling the fun.
To skip a few steps: I signed up to a dance class, in an actual dance place. That was very unexpected. But once we had demonstrated that I can get stuff wrong and get frustrated and still have fun my monster was all like, “Oh, you don’t have any space? Well, sign up for a class then, stupid, get on a proper dance floor.” And I was all, “I can do that?!” and apparently, yes, I can. Turns out this monster was far more concerned with me getting it wrong than with me being seen to get it wrong.
I love it when my monsters surprise me.
