Meet Max, My Jellyfish of Doubt

Self-doubt has reared its ugly head and has been raising an inner ruckus recently. I imagine my self-doubt in the form of a tentacled little jellyfish-like critter who sits on my heart and "protects" me from dangerous things like success and self-confidence. His name is Max, and over the years, he's caused all kinds of mischief.

His welcome is wearing thin, but I know he'll never completely leave. I'd like him to at least move to a less intrusive place, like maybe on my shoulder. Sure, he could still whisper his annoying little admonishments, "Who do you think you are writing about this stuff?" "Creating a real blog or a book would be too much work," "Nobody likes your log book. You shouldn't have paid for such a large print run," but I could more easily flick him in his little jelly head when he started in on me.

For whatever reason, he's been acting up again lately. Perhaps the collective fears over the economy and the stupid swine flu have just gotten to be too much for me, and I don't have the strength to resist the downward pull. Max is having a field day, pushing on my heart, urging me to "Go ahead and commiserate! Complain! Get angry!"

I know these are not helpful responses. They don't serve to lift my energy or contribute to my creativity. They stifle the very things I'm trying to expand.

"Whatever you do, don't write!" seems to be Max's underlying message. "You don't have any ideas. You don't know where to begin with your book. You don't have a structure. You can't even think of stories that just happened last week! Just keep spinning your wheels and stay right here. Even better, spend a lot of time comparing yourself to others who are more accomplished than you are. Read their books and blogs. Find confirmation everywhere that you have no business writing a book about crystal children."

Max, (head-flick!) shut up now. That's enough from you.

Imagining this little bugger is helpful for me. It allows me to see myself as separate from these sabotaging thoughts. When I "talk" with Max, I am able to catch a glimpse of what it would be like to live separately from him. The more I can create that distinction, the more open I feel to inspiration and the free flow of ideas, and the more progress I make on turning my ideas into something beautiful that can shine out into the world and inspire others.

Do you have a Max of your own? What do you do to limit its influence on your energy?