As soon as the light sneaks its way into the bedroom, shamelessly squeezing into cracks around the black-out shades, Phoebie snaps into action.
On today’s agenda: food shopping. Eating out is so unhealthy. Must get avocado. Avocado is the good fat. Also, it’s like only $3 vs the $15 avocado toast brunch. Must save money! Also must research job opportunities at ad agencies! They pay well. Do yoga! Fuck it — do hot yoga! All those cookies you eat for dinner aren’t going to burn themselves. But wait, isn’t the new arm chair getting delivered today? It’s at the same time as the yoga class? Phew! Free pass not to exercise! When are you getting that dress you need for that thing in Italy? Where are you staying in Italy? You know it’s in two weeks, right? You don’t have a hotel booked. Want to sleep at the train station in Milan? That could actually be kinda romantic…
All this at rapid fire speed before 7AM.
Phoebie was named after “PB”, my planning brain. She’s in her best form in the pre-dawn hours. She makes every attempt to ruin a new day by cluttering my mind with thoughts of self-sabotage and doubt.
Somewhere deep inside I know she isn’t really me. She’s that tense, scared, anxious person who doesn’t trust me.
I try to take care of little Phoebie. I give her a warm shower, wrap her up in a fluffy robe and slippers and escort her gently onto my meditation pillow. There we sit together in outward silence. She still talks of course. It’s the only thing she knows how to do. Sometimes she’s so engaging, I get drawn into her drama.
Why are we meditating for so long today? My back hurts. You should eat less sugar, that’s what’s making your back hurt. When are you getting that awesome candle you wanted that helps concentration? Concentrate! You aren’t concentrating! It’s sooooo hot. Why is it so hot? Did you forget to turn the air on?
Once in a while, if I’m lucky, I snap out of it and realize it’s just her chatting. I take a long breath, following its course from my nostrils down to my lungs and back out. I do it over and over again. Sometimes, for just a brief moment, Phoebie pauses and breathes with me. The air gently rocks her, lulls her to a snooze. We sit there like that together and breathe for a bit. When I’m sure she’s fallen asleep, I open my eyes and get up quietly, tiptoeing out of the room.
She won’t nap for too long. There’s a big pile of worries on her desk for later. But for now, in this quiet moment, there is peace.
***
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