TINY MAN
There’s a man living on our roof. I’m convinced of it.
Let’s put that into perspective. We live on the top floor of an eleven storey apartment block and of late, I keep hearing weird noises above us. Morning, noon or night, it doesn’t matter the time, these strange noises follow me wherever I go.
The other night it went too far. I was in the bathroom minding my own business when I heard a weird drilling noise above me. Thinking enough is enough, I threw my shoes on and went to investigate. I put my ear up to every surface of that bathroom trying to pinpoint the noise before finally losing my rag and taking a trip to the stairwell. But alas, nothing.
I don’t know the size of this man. I don’t know the shape of this man but I do know I’ll catch him. Currently, in my minds eye, I envisage him to look something between a Smurf and one of the seven dwarves. I don’t think he means any harm, he’s probably just living a mystical life up there away from the prying eyes of society. But I want to meet him. And I want him to stop being so damn NOISY!
I promise you. The above is happening. There’s definitely someone up there. But it dovetails nicely with today’s blog on my internal monologue. The tiny man in my head. My OCD.
Meet Orlando. He’s the voice inside my head that whispers things that I don’t want to think about. Makes me check. Makes me worry. Makes me anxious and most importantly, makes me not trust my own thoughts.
He’s everything that I wish I wasn’t and yet we’re superglued together in an internal struggle until death do us part.
He’s hard to describe. He’s an extension of me but one that exists solely to wreak havoc and cause internal turmoil. He has the same voice as me which could be confusing but we’ve co-existed together for as long as I can remember. That means I’m pretty good at recognising who’s in the driver’s seat.
Orlando’s voice has a slightly different pitch. He’s more sneery. More matter of fact. More confident in his delivery of his unwanted narrative and that’s what makes him so dangerous.
“You were a bellend last night. You really upset everyone that was there.”
“Why did you talk to that girl from work? You’re a scumbag who flirts with everyone. What will your girlfriend say?”
I know none of these thoughts to be true and yet Orlando delivers them with such bravado and confidence, my real thoughts and memories of a situation become distorted.
I’m so scared of these thoughts that I’ll actively avoid situations that involve me innocently talking to a girl I know from work on a work night out, or for instance winding up a mate for fear of offending them.
I used to trawl back through my memories to rationalise situations that Orlando has inflated and made worse. That sometimes works but in all honesty, the best way to deal with it is to try and ignore it as best I can. But let’s be real. If you think something that simple works ALL OF THE TIME. Then you haven’t been paying attention.
The best analogy I’ve been told is that synapses that connect together, stick together. Meaning that the more you focus on what these intrusive thoughts are saying, the more you begin to believe it.
Orlando still wins a lot of the time. But I’m optimistic that one day, I might be able to quash him. Then again, I’m convinced there’s a tiny man living on the roof, so swings and roundabouts. Watch out tiny man. I’m coming for you.
̶O̶r̶l̶a̶n̶d̶o̶
No you sneaky f**k.
Bald Eagle
