Thrive II Preview

There is a Party in My Head and No One Invited Me…What? How to Navigate Through the Noise to Find Your True Inner Guide

Posted by on November 20, 2019 in Conscious Living, Thrive with 0 Comments

By Shelly Cofini

The Authentic Self, Part 1


“There is a party in my head and no one invited me… Wow, I’ve got a full-blown rager going on in my head most days and, funny or not; exploring these aspects of myself, the sub-personalities who have their own view on what is happening and that which appears to be versus that which really is, has been a process of growth, learning and healing that I want to share. Their response is not always healthy or constructive however it is “what is” for the tribe dancing in my head. Let’s be clear we are not talking multiple personalities, just aspects that showed up as a result of how I have, in the past interpreted my life and the various limiting or not so limiting stories I have been operating in. I consider myself pretty normal, ok maybe quirky and certainly a risk taker…yeah mostly pretty normal. I must provide two disclaimers for readers and possibly a curious family member who may or may not be read this: 1.No matter what you think, your memory is not always accurate. 2. You don’t have to believe everything you think. We are all a work in progress and it is not an event, it’s a process… 

In exploring these aspects and how they came to be and the stories as they played out, and what the personas decided really happened. Diving in on their take on “what is” and validating if they were actually invited or if they just crashed the party. I am writing as a way of uncovering and understanding the role of the authentic self, my inner guide, the knower in me and not the unconscious or ego-driven self. And really questioning why is that people are terrified to be found out; you know persona behind the person you see, the one that is mostly normal. I am finding the humor in my past and these sub-personalities (all of which are titled guests, invited or not) which have kept me out of or got me into some serious trouble in my life. In the process, I’ve developed a series of questions to ponder and answer, and a few techniques for getting centered and finding that one true voice that is love. The lesson is successful completion done so with humor, ease, and grace. Through this work I have found my voice, my attempt at courageous full self-expression, my ability to really communicate for me what is true, maybe slightly twisted but true, I mean you cannot make this shit up. I am doing this with free abandon, releasing my self-judgment and enjoying all of the possibilities that will arise from this series of musings. At the end of each chapter, I will pose some questions to ponder and reflect and provides tools and techniques to navigate the noise. 

Yikes… 

So How Many Voices are there? 

What I am beginning to understand as I look back and recall the events that have shaped how I view the world, is that some of these events and how I interpreted them became my story and impacted the people around me. The meaning of all of the stuff that happened, the meaning that I created, which evolved into a “way of being” some of which, are stories that have lasted for years that may have served me or not so much. The voices and ways of being have largely colored the fabric and landscape of my life. For instance, interpreting a certain event (Breakfast at Grandma’s House) in such a way, that the story I created was; if I speak up for myself, I will get punished. So little Shelly became a diplomat, the consummate world peace expert negotiating kind of diplomat. That story has lasted most of my life and I vowed to explore what it means to have courageous full self-expression. What a concept. As I look back at many of these events I can see how I interpreted things and the meaning I attached, which evolved into a full-blown story in living color that shaped aspects of my personality of my being-ness and it is in those moments exactly, where the party started. The cast of characters born in living color as events shaped my experience and how I relate to the world even if sometimes how I relate is through rose-colored lenses with a slightly twisted sense of humor about what is actually funny, hurtful or painful. 

I also understand that I claim my voice(s) and embrace them and that I have been presented with a wonderful opportunity to explore them, celebrate them and ultimately use them to learn, to grow, to heal, and find humor in what happened my lifetime that could or might be painful to recall. That is pay dirt. Successful completion is what is available to me and boy, do I get it. So we will take a look at the invite list, and discover those that crashed the party. 

The Diplomat is so darn concerned with what is said and how to say it “right”. There is a lack of voice, of conviction, of authenticity that exists in being falsely diplomatic. Oh, the countless hours of lost sleep replaying conversations over and over in my head of the things I wished I'd really said. How many times I would be tied up for days in an ongoing upset because I couldn't say what it was I was feeling, or what it was that I wanted to see happen or how to hurt I was because, because I wasn't standing up for myself. Opportunities lost. Moments in time where I allowed someone to invade my sense of purpose, my values, basic human dignity. Because I wouldn't stand up for myself and say fuck you and the horse you rode in on. (I always secretly wanted to tell someone that) except for later in life when I was coined as “Last Word Cofini” by my former who brought out that quality in me…me wanting to duel to the death verbally and vowing he would never ever win another argument. This by voice is not “The Diplomat” this is Shelly “The Streetfighter” talking smack. 

The Streetfighter was given a new job description which she secretly hated. The best I could come up with is Shelly “The Cheerleader” this aspect was my only option to keep me from acting out in anger destructively (not literally but figuratively in my head). You know when I had the uncontrollable urge to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth laced with expletives, lit with fire, where words were my ammunition and aimed with laser precision focus while being fired, lightning speed directly at boyfriend with my very own personal…well you get it. Some people do not bring out the best in you. Mickey was my karmic teacher otherwise known as the boyfriend, occasionally referred to then as my fiancé, he was at the time my best friend and most often the cause of extreme side-splitting laughter and the cause point of serious eternal, internal and external suffering. Aren't most karmic relationships? 

He delivered life lessons to me at the most inappropriate times. He tested me and my metal. Shelly the street fighter hated cheerleading (not anymore), she wanted to kick ass, take names and numbers and be the last one standing. She was tired of getting the short end of the stick and her whole existence stems from this one false truth that “when people lie, I pay the price”. Did I mention Mickey lied a lot? I used to tease him of course, but behind all the laughter was an owie…of disproportionate pain and suffering. Recalling the “great battle” of 2005, it was a long and drawn-out war, inspired by many told untruths, fueled by the consumption of alcohol on occasion. Thank goodness I can't throw well, as small kitchen appliances were thrown and dodged. Sounds like the War of the Roses? That was Childs play… There were many casualties, and I prayed that our neighbors didn't record the myriad of noises erupting from our small little quaint white picket fence beach cottage. It moaned in agony, we were supposed to be happy there, a perfect little house and a perfect little family. There were some long-term internal injuries too and a few things that have/should/and must be forgiven and forgot in order to move past them… the destruction of what was once thought of, as the perfect partnership. Yep, this kind of tug of war is never pretty and neither is the death of a relationship. I sometimes morn moments the past, while he relished in it. It’s over and all is forgiven, but not all is forgot. 

The Cheerleader loves world peace or at least the concept of it. She still has a glimmer of hope, even on the lip of insanity…occasionally doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result. She hopes silently still. She is optimistic and if only she could just erase the fragmented hard drive of the great battle and re-install the program, reboot and start all over with the excitement you embody when a relationship is new, amazing and you are sure down to your bones that it will last forever. My cheerleader wants to grow to be 90 years old, sitting a porch somewhere with her best friend, her mate, her lover having spent 40 years enjoying the journey with little or no regrets. Yea, the cheerleader she has an abundance of hope of all things possible if the planets would simply align. 

The Good girl well she is hell-bent on being perfect. How long I have tried, how hard and how gosh darn tired I am of being good, trying to be good, wanted to be liked, desperately needing to be liked. All in an effort to support the story I bought in so many years ago. If I am good, I will be noticed, appreciated and loved. Being good just for the sake of it. It is the “right thing” to do. My goodness she is well-liked for sure, super sweet, loves being in service to others, you can count on her, give it to Shelly she will do it. But all the effort it takes to hold up that story, my biceps should be tired, hell my whole body. I have spent years living in the “if I am a good girl” I will be noticed, appreciated, loved, honored, respected. blah blah blah I mean listen to it…just thinking about it makes me tired. Technically it makes me want to vomit. If anyone ever recorded the voices in my head how many times, I secretly said WTF… Well, I say it on a regular basis in my head, and I've said it before you cannot make this shit up… 

The Loner, what an experiment that story is, who can feel lonely in a room full of people? The Loner is not a people person. She bathes in the fact that she and her experience are uniquely her own and how could anyone possibly understand how she feels. Really because no one is around to notice, I am all alone in my aloneness. I can remember this deep-seated feeling that I am really on my own, and sometimes that feeling would eek into my consciousness even when I am sleeping safely next to someone resting peacefully, delighting in my serial aloneness. How sad it is to be so alone in the world? The Loner is really good at withdrawing and withholding, masterful at it, in fact. Neither of those comes in handy in a relationship either…hmmm something to ponder? 

Just how many voices are there? Well these are just a few and the rest their stories will surface in the series. Do I need to check to see if there is an occupancy limit in my head? Or perhaps I just need to expand my awareness and make room for and embrace them all. After all, they all make me, me. 

Some Questions to Ponder. Reflect on a time in your life have you listened to a voice inside that caused you to do something or react in a way that was not in alignment with your authentic self. Did you second guess yourself before you acted? How did you feel about yourself in action? Self-judgment? Was there some part of you that questioned what is the right thing to do? If you were to reframe it now, how would you have acted or reacted differently? What impact do you think that would have had on the outcome? Did you happen to notice if one of the choices robbed you of your personal power? And might the other choice, have come from a different kind of space, perhaps residing in love? 

These questions are opportunities to reflect, to get centered and find the inner knower in you…Yep, that’s the one that’s got your back, may not be easiest of choices however they are always in your best interest. 

Bliss is Contagious 

Shelly Cofini

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