I want to introduce you to Betty. Betty lives in my subconscious and she has opinions about everything. She is not invited. She shows up anyway. I am not crazy — I just have a name for the part of my brain that wants me to stay small and scared, and honestly naming her was the best thing I ever did because now I can tell her to sit down, everything is okay.
Betty is not malicious. That’s the thing about Betty. She genuinely thinks she’s helping. When something good happens — a new opportunity, a change, anything that requires me to move forward — Betty arrives with a lukewarm cup of tea and a list of reasons why staying exactly where I am is the safest option. She will bring up an argument from twenty years ago that has absolutely nothing to do with the current situation. She’s thorough like that.
This week I am looking at buying a house. On my own. And Betty has been very busy.
I’ve tried explaining to her that if I don’t move into this house I will lose all my money in rent. Betty is not interested in logic. Betty is interested in the familiar, the known, the safe — even when the safe thing is actually the dangerous thing. This is not a conversation you can win. Believe me, I’ve tried.
Here is what I’ve come to understand about Betty. She was built a long time ago by a little girl who moved a lot and learned to say goodbye to everything before she got too attached. She’s not wrong that goodbyes are hard. She’s just about forty years late with the advice and applying it to entirely the wrong situations. I don’t need protection from a house. I need protection from staying still.
Well, sorry Betty. I’m doing it anyway. The house, the change, the terrifying leap forward into something better. I never say goodbye — not to people, not to places, not even to the old version of myself that Betty is so fond of. My hubby always signed off with Hooroo — very Australian, very him. Not goodbye. Just — until next time.
So that’s what I say to Betty when she pipes up. Hooroo, love. We’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.
Does your Betty have a name? I’d love to know I’m not the only one arguing with my own subconscious. 🕯️