My Mind is a 2 Year-Old

I finally figured out why my mind won’t settle down, prefers to play, asks “but why?” incessantly, bursts into tears at the slightest provocation, thinks the world revolves around it, and isn’t 100% potty trained yet.

It’s because my mind is a 2 year-old!

How on earth can I be expected to settle down and finish writing the last 50 pages of my novel when there’s a rambunctious 2 year-old running around?! How can I possibly exercise on a daily basis when this kid in my head is screaming that she wants to go out and play? And how do I pretend to be a mature adult having a difficult conversation with someone when my internal toddler is putting her hands over her ears and singing, “La la la la la la!”?

I’ve spent years—eons—attempting to tame this wild animal and make her work for me, not against me. I’ve gotten angry at her, spoiled her, attempted to ignore her, indulged her by letting her eat ice cream for dinner, and even tried leaving her on the steps of a church with a note taped to her “please love her as I cannot”.

And then one day it struck me. After the pastor ripped the note off my head and had me escorted off the church grounds, I realized the age-old axiom: we’re all insane, and the ones in the mental institutions just got caught. Sorry, wrong axiom. The one I realized in this moment was: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

You wouldn’t try to treat a 2 year-old as though it were a 30, 40, or 50 year-old, would you? You can’t reason with a toddler, it’s never going to be able to get up and go to work on its own, its default setting is play!play!play!, and it won’t be able to tell itself to take a nap when cranky.

So now that I am aware of this basic principle, I can work with my inner tot. For example, when I sit down to complete an article with a short deadline and my mind is jumping up and down, screaming for me to take her to a movie, I can give her a time-out for an hour while I work. I use small words and allegories from Sesame Street so that she’s sure to understand. And I remind her that just because I’m disciplining her, doesn’t mean that I don’t still love her.

Of course, this works best when alone. It’s unnerving for others to observe what appears to be a grown woman chastising a kid that no one else can see….