The Death of Mr. P

Ok, do you want to know what has really been going on in my head for the last few weeks?  I’ve seemed to have lost myself, well my old self that is and I’m not sure where to find me so I’m trying to retrace my steps to see the last time or place, well… I saw Myself.  It definitely has something to do with the writer.  Maybe she stole me?  Or misplaced me? Actually, I think it’s more like “replaced me”.  See, this whole “writing thing” started off as a fun, harmless, innocent distraction from my new life of “nothingness” but now 2 months later, I have really noticed a significant shift inside myself and I’ve got to tell you, it’s a little more than disconcerting and Mr. E is ready to file a missing persons report.

As some of you may or may not know, I’ve done a pretty thorough job over the last 4 years of reviewing, dissecting, analyzing all of my thoughts and behaviors from the first 40 years of my life.  And I think considering where I used to be on the whole “feelings” thing, I’ve done a pretty decent job in processing a lot of those as well.  I mean, I can pretty much cry at a drop of a hat or even a commercial these days if it triggers anything near my 2nd or 4th chakra (which isn’t even in spell check I might add) where as before, crying was pretty much off limits unless I absolutely in no way couldn’t muster up enough energy to stop it from it from happening.  And yes, we can talk about all of the reasons why that was later, but let’s get back to the search.

Yes, as a result of all of that deep introspective work, I am proud to display my beautiful library of self help books and have all of the therapy receipts neatly filed away to back it up.  So with that, until a few weeks ago, I pretty much knew at all times who was doing the talking inside my head as well as the motives behind these characters and how they all connect to the larger purpose of my soul/spirit journey as well as the greater universal consciousness.  It’s like I have drawn out map of myself.  Complete with color coding and landmark pictures, I know this  terrain inside and out.  For good or bad, it’s all completely safe and totally familiar.  And you know what?  At 40 years young, 🙂 I’m ok with it all.  I really do like me.  Now, love me?  Well, we can talk about that later but I’m definitely working on it.  Net-net, it’s all good in my self-esteem hood.

So up until Miss Independent (whoops, sorry, misplaced Kelly Clarkson song title), I mean, this little Miss Writer showed up, there hasn’t been a lot of unexplored places within myself.  Yep, at a certain point, it’s just “Re-Hashville”.  Yes, on the map, that’s located close to Nashville without the country music stuff.  And while I’m always learning and growing because that is part of the Student and the Seeker within me, it’s been pretty quiet and predictable.

“Let’s go take a shower.”

Huh?  Really?  Right now? I’m writing and I’m just getting to the good part.

“I feel grungy and will write better after a shower.”

Oh ok.  I really do want to wash my hair today so that will feel good to be super clean but I don’t have any interest in the beautification process… so shower yes, make up and hair no.  Deal?  Good. I’m back!  Ok, where was I?  Yes, let’s go back and figure out what has been happening around here.

“Since the kids are coming back today, let’s go out and get some new spoons.”

What the ???  Yes, ok, I do need some new spoons because strangely 1/2 of them have disappeared in the last few years and the kids always complain there are no good spoons left because of the 4 remaining, 3 of them at one time or another got into a nasty fight with the garbage disposal so they are all scratched up and rough at the tips.  Where did all of those spoons go?  Hanging out with the missing socks which seems like an odd match but I won’t judge.

So I keep telling the kids every time they are here I will go and buy some more teaspoons so when they come back the next week, Shazam!  We will have a plethora of smooth spoons except you want to know what?  I can’t just buy the spoons that match the design set, you know.  You have to buy the all 5 pieces. Fork, Knife, etc.  What a racket!  But wait…..I don’t want to write about spoons and I don’t feel like going anywhere.  Plus, then I have to do the make up and hair thing which as zero appeal right now.  What is going on here?

Ah, I get it.  Mr. E doesn’t want me to write today.  So he is throwing a bunch of stuff on my “to do” list at me with a sense of urgency as a distraction.  Sorry, Charlie…I mean Mr. E, it’s not going to work today.  We are definitely writing.

Ok, let me try refocus again.  Where was I?  Lost.  Oh yes.  I’m pretty sure all of this uneasiness started brewing way before this writing weekend event. Actually it’s been about a month.  Remember when I was on vacation back in April and I didn’t write for a few weeks?  Well, I didn’t fill everyone in on that time frame because I rolled right into the Missy and Herp follies which you know how that panned out, so let me back track a bit.  And you know what, it feels so strange to even say it was a “vacation”.

Is it still called a vacation when you are no longer working? Or would it just be called going on a standard trip? Or maybe just out of town?  I wonder what the technical definition of vacation is anyway?

Great.  Now what?  Can you tell who’s asking?  Yes, Mr. E has summoned the Student to find out some more information.

Let’s Google it.  Per the free

va·ca·tion  (v-kshn, v-) n.

1. A period of time devoted to pleasure, rest, or relaxation, especially one with pay granted to an employee.

2. a. A holiday.b. A fixed period of holidays, especially one during which a school, court, or business suspends activities.
3. Archaic The act or an instance of vacating.
intr.v. va·ca·tioned, va·ca·tion·ing, va·ca·tions
To take or spend a vacation.

Ok, it’s certainly not 1, because I’m not getting paid from anyone these days (and Mr. E likes to remind me of that every time I write a check or whip out my credit card) so it might qualify as 2b because I did suspend all my usual activity if I was actually doing any business that is. And it could technically be 3 as well because I vacated my house for that period of time so based on that I’m going to stick to my word choice of “vacation”.  Happy now, E?

It’s funny because I used to think vacation was when one took time off of work to go somewhere and wasn’t supposed to “work” during that time.  I always encouraged my team, coworkers, bosses, etc never to work on vacation but I certainly couldn’t honor that little piece of advice for myself, oh no.  Back in my workaholic days, work wasn’t something that was left behind, ever.  At night, on weekends, on vacations, you name it and it was right there with me 24/7, kinda like a BFF gone bad.  I definitely couldn’t go anywhere out of a 50 mile radius without my laptop, you know, just in case I needed to access any important information.  And do you want to know why?  Because worked defined me but that is a whole other subject we can talk about tomorrow..

“Ah, the good old days.”

Sorry, that was the Executive.  He misses Corporate life.

Ok, back to my vacation….my sister and I went to a holistic detox spa.  Yes, mind-body-spirit retreat and nothing but juice for 8 days.  Crazy and awesome at the same time.   Now, I could entertain you for days with stories about this adventure but the most important thing that happened here was

1) The Book Prescription (mentioned yesterday)

2) The Fall of Mr. P

Let me first give a shout for We Care Spa located in Desert Springs, CA.  Yes, detox to the stars (check out the website  Totally expensive and totally worth it.  Now, in addition to starving you to death, I mean cleansing your body and ridding you of all of those nasty toxins, they have lots of classes. (Please note, I was joking about the starving thing, you are literally drinking something every 30-60 minutes so you never really feel physically hungry per se, just emotionally hungry).   The classes consist of amazing health practitioners doing everything from yoga, meditation, sound healing, hypnosis, fire ceremonies, medicine wheel, blood cell analysis, yep you name it and they’ve got it. Plus of course, the pool, sauna, floating bed, labyrinth, spa treatments, etc.

So while there I decided to check out this session called Psych-K which is basically muscle testing (Kinesiology) on psychological statements and I’ve got to tell you, this is an entire post in its self but net-net, she (out of the blue) said, let’s test this statement your body. “I do my best and my best is good enough.”  (Which prompts Mr. E’s evil throaty laugh, HA. HA. HA. Good one, he says.) Out of the blue?  I think not, the universe told her exactly which statement I needed to hear and BINGO!  And of course, my muscle tests weak to that statement after testing strong to other statements of truth like my name, etc.  Surprised?  Of course not. Because that is pretty much Mr. P’s whole agenda.  My best is NEVER good enough because it’s not perfect.  It was brilliant.

Well, after 5-10 minutes of subconscious reprogramming, let me tell you….Mr. P was pretty much wiped off the face of the earth and I can honestly, sincerely and in total complete truth, tell you since that session I haven’t have one “it’s not good enough” thought go through my head.  Now, Mr E. thinks all of this is bullshit and it’s because I’m not really doing anything for him to truly slam me on, so he’s just waiting for the right opportunity to try and resurrect Mr. P from the dead, but what I can tell you is that isn’t not going to happen.  Not because I know it, because I can feel it.

Believe me, every day that has gone by since that session, seems pretty strangely ok by me or someone else at least…I don’t know who, maybe the new me?  Regardless,  I’m definitely shifting and now that Mr. P has vanished, I’m honestly not sure what to do about it but I have noticed a lot of other stuff fading away with him.  But the proof is in the pudding so let me give you an example.

I used to never paint my finger nails.  Toe nails, yes and always but never my fingers because within 2-24 hours they would chip and one small chip would be unacceptable so all of the polish would have to come off.  Total waste of time and money so I just passed on the finger painting all together.  Well, a year or so ago, as I was making more of an effort “embrace the feminine side” of myself and someone in the universe invented the genius of the Gel manicure or Shellac.  Basically special chemically applied nail polish that hardens under a UV light that in the end looks and stays perfect for weeks. SIGN ME UP!  Well, I let that run it’s course and I think Hyper-V was with me once when I had it done and decided that this was totally unhealthy to bake my fingers under these lights and would likely lead to cancer or something so decided I was going to back to au natural after I stopped working.  Since then I stripped it off and have been painting my nails myself ever since because I really do like the fun colors, etc.  Also, I found that process is an activity that really puts me in the present moment too.

And do you want to know what has been happening when the nail polish chips off when I paint them myself? Absolutely nothing.  I just leave it alone for a few days or a week or two and I don’t care.  TA-DA!!!  Amazing. Incredible. Hallelujah! It’s a miracle.  Honestly, it is.  See, I’m ok with my nails not looking or being perfect anymore. Get it?  See, this is a major break through.  I’m talking major!  And if that isn’t a true testament of change, I don’t know what is.

Hey, how about some Fish Tacos?

Oh! Yummy.  I’m hungry and Mr. E is depressed.  I can tell based on his desired food choices.  Last night it was pizza and chocolate chip cookies but that is another subject too.  Mr. E knows exactly how to push my buttons because I can not resist fish tacos or chips and salsa for that matter.  They are my absolute favorite and maybe we can pick up those spoons while we are out which might make him feel better. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that I can buy any old standard mismatched teaspoons because now that Mr. P is gone, there is no one to protest.  Ding dong the witch is dead, (which old witch), the wicked witch, Ding dong the wicked witch is dead!!!  

This entry was posted in Ego, Hyper-V, Mr. E, Mr. P, Soul, The Executive, The Perfectionist, The Seeker, The Student, The Writer and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to The Death of Mr. P

  1. Barbara says:

    Congradulations on th eviction of Mr. P!!! As a child up until my 20’s I discounted everyone’s opinion that I did anything well. My belief my efforts were never good enough. Sometimes I still have those thoughts but am more gracious with other’s perception. Love you! Welcome back Writer!

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