Sometimes they come knocking.

Doubt
Fear
Shame
Guilt

Sometimes I open the door. Even though I know better. Often they have friends with them, unwelcome guests. They say things like “who do you think you are?” and “You won’t succeed, you never do”.

And then they make themselves at home. Demanding access to my memory, creating a revisionist history, reinforcing and enhancing a negative story, oh so busy threatening the future. “Remember us?” they say?

But then I’m reminded. This is my house. And who sits upon my furniture is under my control. There are rules in this house I remind them. And I think it’s time you left. Because unwanted houseguests are not welcome.

I thank them for the reminder that as landlord I determine who resides and who does not.

My mind is not a drop in centre. My heart is not open to intruders. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.

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