Meet Sheila

Meet Sheila. Sheila is the borderline psychotic personality that I take on when my emotions are deep, my heart is hurt, and my pride is drowning in whatever hot mess of a situation I have created. Sheila says things I choose not to remember. ‘Things’ is a bit of an understatement, actually. She turns her words into razors, purposefully cutting into the old scar tissue of another’s wounds. If you look into Sheila’s eyes it is easy to see her heart is absent, and the gaping hole creating the void is visible in the darkness of her pupils. If you look long enough, deep enough, you may even see small little Shellie hiding inside, shaming herself for giving Sheila her power once again.
Sheila, once released, is on a seek-and-destroy mission. She will use her powers in wicked ways. She knows where you are soft and weak, what areas of your psyche are tender and which emotional veins you leave vulnerable. She digs deep into your dignity with her sarcastic claws. Her cavalier references to your traumatic past will leave you paralyzed. The poison of her words runs deep into your existence as the tongue-lashing leaves your throat closed. Even if you could speak, Sheila has no ears. Anything she hears is perceived as a threat, insult, dig, injury, defamation, or interruption. An encounter with Sheila is certain death, for the relationship at hand, that is.
Sheila met her match, once, with a Welshman. Sheila gave it her best, but after a while the continuous love and forgiveness the Welshman showed Sheila started to make it easier for me to take control of the beast. There were moments when Sheila would force her way through, but her attacks only went as far as an intense glare or a few snippy remarks. The Welshman’s tactics were clever, yet from the heart. Through hugs, sweet kisses, and much-needed bouts of playful fun and laughter, Sheila became dormant. She will always be lurking in my shadow, and that is fine. That is her place. Sheila represents all of my unmet needs, insecurities, and false truths. Sheila believes that she is unlovable and a victim. She is so far removed from her Divinity that she cannot feel even one iota of compassion for herself or anyone else. Her only goal is to defend the empty space that is filled with hate instead of a heart. It is a very small, sad existence.
We all have our Sheila’s. I gave this aspect of myself a name, because it is easier for me to understand it and let it go when I realize it doesn’t define me. I am grateful to the young Welshman for helping me to deal with one of the darkest parts of myself. I did it, but he certainly was a facilitator. There is a Welshman of your own somewhere in your life. Someone is the sunshine that will willingly help you deal with your scary shadow side. These lovely teachers come and go, always leaving us with a very important lesson. We can accomplish so much when we love with an open heart. Sadly, it is the nature of relationships to sometimes end. When this happens, we cannot re-release our Sheila’s, letting them run wild. It is important to understand this is where the true growth happens. Leave Sheila as part of the shadow, and let the light shine instead of reaching into the defense-mechanism grab bag. Crawl into those cracks of your being where Sheila seeps through, find the un-met need, and meet it with a simple deep breath.
I actually hugged myself today. I found myself in a needy, tiny, microscopic frame of mind and gave myself a big-ass freakin’ bear hug and cried for about 15 seconds. I felt Sheila shrink. It’s subtle, but I can tell her extinction may be near. It will be interesting to see what new breed of animal stems from this period of solitude in my life. I have a feeling this one will have wings. ☺