Monster’s Ball: A Trick to Dealing with the A**holes Within

I will start with the (chronological) end of the story: I recently went through a breakup. It was a tough yet clean-cut, with enough clarity to know that it was the right decision. I dealt with it like somebody who had been through a breakup before (It’s like riding a bicycle! Through hell!) I ran, cried, drank, danced, posted dumb things for attention. I kept a running iPhone note where I recorded all my fleeting thoughts and emotions – which, by the way, seemed to change at supersonic speed. I made conclusions, then made peace with the conclusions. I did the steps.

And yet, there was still something that kept on sabotaging the process. Something disgustingly familiar, telling me that, perhaps, I just hadn’t been enough – pretty enough, smart enough, patient enough – enough to be adored until the golden years. Lo and behold: my Ego had returned.

I remember the first time we really got to know one another, me and the Ego. I was seventeen and it was my first year living in the US, and I had gained about fifteen pounds via a steady diet of homesickness, Costco pesto, and MTV Cribs. My best friend from Saint-Petersburg called in a favor: could I meet up with her friend Olga*, a model who was coming to New York? The mere thought of walking around next to this stunning blonde attention magnet made me feel so awful, that I made up a sequence of excuses and somehow avoided Olga during her entire two-month stay in New York. My insecurities had blocked me from the chance to make a friend (and be a decent human).

In retrospect, it was a good thing. Cognizant of my ego as an opportunity cockblock, I learned put mind of over matter and plunder through my fears and discomforts, whether it meant attending a dinner with foreigners, or a douchey fashion event, or going on vacation with girls with Emily Ratajkowski bikini bodies (always a joy!) I pushed myself out of the comfort zone to the point where I stopped having one, and I owe some of my best experiences to those small triumphs.

And yet, my ego and insecurities found a new stomping ground – my romantic relationships. At twenty-one, I spent months obsessing over some Parisian dbag who had little-to-no recollection of my existence, just because I wanted him to want me (full story here). At twenty-five, I mourned my first big breakup with the ardor of a long-suffering Tolstoy heroine, allowing it to take on a post-mortal lifespan of almost two years. I wasn’t just heartbroken, I was ego-broken, incapable of handling the fact that I hadn’t been worthy of infinite love and commitment. (Forget the fact that we were wrong for one another – the ego a is self-centered beast.) For many years that followed, I dated guys who were doomed from the get-go, because couldn’t handle the idea of somebody hurting me like that again. When I did finally graduate to decent contenders, I was constantly swarmed with fears: I will fuck it up, it will be over soon, etcetera, etcetera. Yup, I was still living with assholes in my head, and it wasn’t fun.

My most recent ex was a rockstar when it came to combatting – or, rather, ignoring – these demons. By the time we broke up, my mental landscape was so solid that I thought I had graduated from my vile inner rhetoric. And yet, before I knew it, the bullies were knocking on my door with a whole new (ageist!) set of attacks.

Right around this time, a letter began circulating within my family. It had been written by my niece in some study abroad flash of genius, and it contained one paragraph that struck gold. “The monsters live in you. Your ego, your insecurity and your pride can rob you of experiences, friendships and opportunities. They are scarier and more dangerous than any drug out there. They will take so much from you and leave you with nothing. Figure out how to get rid of them as fast as you can.”

My niece is twenty (and ten times smarter than me). I am almost thirty-two (f*ck!!), and so I will allow myself to amend her statement. Your ego and insecurities will rob you of one other thing: TIME. As you get older, time morphs from concept to commodity, so tangible and precious that you can practically feel it slipping away with each fallen autumn leaf. I will never get back the time I wasted doing self-destructive things to my body, or yearning for some loser to text me, or wondering what would have happened “had I been better.” And yet, I can stop my so-called “monsters” from taking away another hour – minute – nanosecond – that could be spent in far better ways.

Since acknowledging this, I have changed my tactic. Rather than trying to figure out why I have these thoughts, I have started looking at my insecurities as almost a separate entity, an enemy to be combatted at all cost. I see them as those pesky little villains in a video game, flinging their nasty insults at me, preventing me from moving forward. It is my job to kick them to the curb – via logic, reason, cheesy Pinterest quotes, good friends, supportive family. I’m lucky to have an entire arsenal at my disposal.

“Knowing stuff is like finding booster turbos in Mario Kart, it gives you an edge,” wrote our twenty-year-old Plato-to-be. And so, I remind myself to snatch up as many booster turbos as I can. This way, when the next throng of bullies attacks, I can give them a swift kick in the a**.

(Now can I have a self-help book deal pls?)