There is a little lizard in my brain. I am just sure that she lives at the very base of my skull. Just below my hairline. Hidden under the long tangled hair. The little lizard that has lingered for millions of years. This sweet little lizard loves me very much and wants so badly to protect me from harm. She (surely my lizard is a she) is responsible for the “Four F’s.” I don’t know if eveyone’s lizard brain focuses on one of the F”s more than the others. Mine focuses on two. Fleeing and feeding. (Fighting and F***ing seem to be less urgent to my lizard.)
Oh sometime I will tell you about how successfully my lizard has made me run and hide through out the years. Fleeing from any possibility of pain. Leading of course to different pain. Such a misguided little lizard.
And misguided in her worry about feeding. For so many years… hundreds…. thousands…. millions….. there was not enough. Never enough. If you had access to food, you should eat it! Build up a nice layer of fat to keep you safe for the winter. Such a good survival strategy. But my body seems to have missed the memo. Scarcity is gone. Now there is too much. (My problems are all caused by too much.) When I try to eat more carefully, to lose weight…. my sweet little lizard jumps to attention. Oh sometimes she’ll sleep for a while. She won’t notice. But then… once a few pounds slide off…. there she is. Scared. Panicked. Protective.
And she takes over my brain and my stomach and my hands and my mouth and my appetite and my control. Driving me to food. Driving me to eat. Driving me – right over my plans and my willpower – to eat. With a force and determination that you cannot imagine. The strongest lizard you’ve ever seen!
And so I rub that little spot on the back of my neck. Just below the hairline. And I speak- a soft, soothing, loving voice. But I promise the words are spoken out loud. I so want her to hear me.
Oh little lizard. Thank you. Thank you for wanting to take care of me. Thank you for wanting to keep me alive. You are so good! So strong and so important! I know you think I am starving us… but sweet lizard – I am not. I’ve got this. We are not going to starve. There is plenty of food. We don’t need to panic. I promise I will keep feeding us. I promise I will keep us alive. I promise I am taking care of us.
Go back to sleep little lizard. Please. Please go to sleep. Rest. Please let go of the grip you have on my will. Let it go. Let me go.
It is beautiful- magical and wonderous- that you bring millions of years of memories and experience to me. Connecting me to everyone and everything that has come before me. That you are part of me and that your instincts to protect me are so strong.
But you have to trust me. I know what is best right now. It is time. Let it go. Let me go.
Quiet Happy Wonder 