Old enough to know there were no monsters in my room, I still anguished over the walk to my darkened space. As the get-ready-for-bed ritual commenced, the fear emerged. Afraid of what the darkness might hold, I longed to ask my mom or dad or older brother to walk me to my room and check for monsters. But I knew I'd grown old enough to handle that responsibility and was expected to deal with bedroom monsters on my own.

Lighting the bedroom was step one. That involved rapidly making my way to the end of the hall. Then I would reach in desperately feeling for the switch that would transform the darkness into a familiar array of stuffed animals nestled on a pink bedspread, with tiny purple butterflies gracing the walls.

I don't remember when the bedroom monster-hunting ended, but I do know I've been battling monsters all my life. Of course, now they're not the kind that hide in dark closets, but they are the kind that create inner turmoil. These monsters live in my head, fueling feelings of not enoughness, insecurities over appearing stupid or foolish, initiating fears of failure, or perhaps of success.

Over the years, I've worked to hunt down and face my monsters. Some I've conquered. Some I still haven't, despite repeated effort. Recently, a newbie monster began taunting me that when my book, Hitting Your Stride, is released, no one will buy it or read it or like it. Feeling vulnerable about my book being judged, the monster took up residence in my head for awhile, hijacking my sense of accomplishment and confidence.

But I found the perfect monster-tamer while flipping through a favorite catalog. It held the key, simply stated, to my entire monster problem. There like a neon sign, a picture of a small plaque drew my attention, causing me to pause. "Don't Believe Everything You Think," it said in large letters.

That's been my problem. I've been believing my random thoughts. I've been giving power to those sporadic negative, fearful, critical, judging thoughts floating around. I've been feeding my monsters just as I had done as a child by believing they might be real.

You see, we can think ourselves into being afraid, sad, angry, envious, or worried. We can think ourselves into being timid, self-conscious, or defeated turning into passengers, rather than drivers of our own lives. And we can even think ourselves out of our dreams, aspirations, and desires.

But in the scheme of things, I realized I don't have to. I don't have to believe everything I think about myself (or others). Those monster thoughts can be replaced with happier, more forgiving, grateful, courageous, or confident ones. The thing I've finally come to believe about monsters ... is that I can tame them

(c) 2007 Nan S. Russell.  All Rights Reserved.

Author of Hitting Your Stide: Your Work, Your Way (Capital Books; January 2008). Sign up to receive Nan's free monthly eColumn at www.intheschemeofthings.com

More of Nan S. Russell's work can be read at www.nanrussell.com