I had a life coach last year.  She said the right thing after nearly a year of coaching and I used it to reprogram myself and get my confidence back.  She probably said the right thing many times before, but it was one time, on a walk through a park, that what she said sunk in.  I’ll never have a life coach again.  Maybe a business advisor, but never a coach.  The experience was heart-wrenching.  I don’t deserve to go through it ever again.  I don’t need to.  It’s not that I don’t want to, I just, to reiterate, don’t need to. 

And I will forever respect her for putting me through it all.

But I’m glad it is over.  When it ended I was, for a time, sad.  I felt voidness, not having someone to vent to.  But I had my confidence, and I looked in my wallet and saw that I had more money because I was not paying for coaching.  There is always something to be grateful for.  And I began to be grateful.  Life happens for you.  And it was happening for me. 

I got what I wanted.  I never want to do that again.  I never want to be that sensitive again.  I never want to open up like that again.  There is nothing but self-doubt and heartache when doing so.  Sure, I did a bunch of art and wrote a bunch of stuff.  Maybe people will pay my heirs for it after I am dead.  Artists usually die broke.  I’m not going to die an artist.  Not going to be in touch with my feelings when I do go.  I’m going out trying to be a winner.  I’m going out happy, not sad, sensitive, not gooey, not full of woo-woo. 

I’ve taken to listening to heavy metal music.  It is desensitizing.  It is meaningless.  It is loveless.  I’m not warm in my heart.  I’ll do good things.  I’ll be kind.  I’ll go out of my way.  I’ll be charitable.  But I’m cold.  Nearly heartless.  I tried to be warm, big-hearted.  People just step on you, reject you, use you.  Each moment of your life is a canvas and you can paint on it what you choose to.  I’ll be nice.  I’ll be kind.  But I won’t put up with the opposite.  And when I am rejected by someone, well, it is their loss.  I’ll feel sorry for them that they miss out on me.  For a moment. 

To attain this cold-heartedness I went back through my memories.  At each one, I separated the visual from the feeling.  Then I took out a big eraser and I erased the feeling. 

It worked. 

Chris Plante

February 9, 2019