King Baby is strictly old school. It uses old school thinking against me. The name “King Baby” itself just sounds so demeaning and, well, childish. You see, a real grown-up, a true adult, wouldn’t have these issues. They’d simply put the baby in its place. The underlying message: I should be able to control it.
Where have I said that before?
It’s one thing to admit that I want a drink; it’s another to admit that I’m feeling insecure because my phone call was not returned within 30 minutes. Or I’m not getting immediate reassurance. Or I’m feeling ignored, unimportant, weak. I don’t want to admit the embarrassing stuff; the trifle that builds momentum, the stuff I assume normal people handle without a thought. So I keep them secret, which is simply storing up my sickness.
My biggest problem with king baby arises when I pretend he doesn’t exist. It’s that slow escalation that bubbles over into me yelling at a librarian about overdue fees, not holding a door for someone I deem is walking too slowly, or flipping the bird to whomever’s on the road.
Today’s Acknowledgement: A fear or a weakness or a whatever is different from actually acting upon it. Just because I have an unhealthy thought doesn’t mean I’m failing. Have I noticed that the frequency of the unhealthy thoughts are diminishing? That’s called growth.