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NTRO: Commentator Elsa Heidorn has doubting voices in her head.
ELSA: When I was eight years old, I ran a 300-yard race at the all-school field day. At the very start of the race, my foot slipped in the mud of the dirt track. Immediately I thought all is lost; I could never possibly win the race; I should give up. But I didn't. I ran anyway, tears stinging my eyes. The other kids were far ahead of me, I could see them jostling for position as they rounded the next turn. I tried my best to keep up. I noticed that the kids in the lead were flagging, as I turned the last corner at the far end of the field. I caught them. I passed them. I crossed the finish line in disbelief. "I slipped" I thought, "How could I have won?"
That doubting voice is still inside my head today. He says the situation is totally hopeless: you're not the smartest student in the class, so give up. You made a mistake on the job. You should be fired. These thoughts are intruders - a gang of marauding, accusing litigators.
My friends get these intruders, too. One of my friends says he invites them in, asks them to take a seat, and gives them a cup of coffee. Then, he tells them it's time to go. That's when he realizes that the accusing voices are wrong. But he says ignoring the intruders doesn't work. They just stand there, pounding on the door.
Another friend says the voices make her question every choice she's ever made, from what she studied in college to her decision to dump her boyfriend. She repeats them out loud to a friend. That way, they stop echoing and reverberating in her head.
I have a defense attorney. A paraclete, actually. That's a Greek word that means, "one who intercedes on my behalf." The word shows up in the Bible, referring to the Holy Spirit. As the accuser sits on my left shoulder, whispering his negativity into my ear, the paraclete, on my right shoulder, refutes the accusations and explains why I should keep going. She says things like, "Don't listen to him, you're doing fine, you really are a smart girl." I think the paraclete has wings, but that's probably because her name sounds like parakeet.
The accuser's been there as long as I can remember. I thought if I just did well enough on my multiplication test in third grade, that would show him. In high school, I thought if I just get into college, he'd leave me alone. After college, I thought if I got that job, I'd never have to hear him again. But he always came back.
If I'm successful enough, can I finally be done with him? I don't think so. He's really a part of me, even more so than my love of mint chocolate chip ice cream. To be rid of him would be to lose part of my own existence - a tortured part, but a part nonetheless. So I'll just rely on my paraclete to help me make that next turn around the track.
BACK ANNOUNCE: Elsa Heidorn has been told the voices she hears are not a sign of schizophrenia.