I have different names for my Inner Self. Sometimes I envision it as a Mental Command Center, like a Star Trek image with a swivel Captain’s Chair, a console with lots of sliders, buttons, switches, and levers, a complex stompbox at my feet, and a vast curving screen for metaverse projection. There’s a sorting table to my right, used when I bring content in from the field, an energetic cleansing room behind me, and tools and a cooking area to my left, complete with a wood stove for keeping things on the back, side, and front burners.
Other times I see my inner self as living in a bubble, similar to Bubble Boy. My bubble is part protection and part sanctuary. It’s where I exist with all my ideas and shape them into short reads, stories, and design tactics. I learned long ago that hoping to explain my projects to people didn’t work, but I tried, anyway, and typically returned to my inner bubble discouraged, feeling unheard and unseen. The inner bubble door slams, and I grit my teeth, vowing to do it better next time. But, this state of mind isn’t creative flow; it’s more like acritical prison time.
As I focused less on trying to be heard by others and repressing my self soothings behaviors, such as sliding my hands on my thighs or tapping my feet, I managed to stay present n the company of others. I learned my judgments of them operated as a form of protection. On the one hand, less judgment in the world is good. But, on the other hand, I feel less protected and more vulnerable, and, returning to my inner bubble, I contend with an urge to mask and hide—confusion reigns when the inner sanctuary is interpreted as foreign and dangerous. Instead of seeking to be heard outside me, I listen to myself, but I have no practice being heard, and the unfamiliarity leads to chaos.
I’ve taken fidgety habits to a new level. I now listen to my state of mind as somatic vibrational music from anxious to calm. This practice helps me not get stuck in emotional mood identification. Instead, I slide my hands on my thighs, tap and rub circles, seeking to claim all of my inner bubble to the very core.
