Ghostbusting

The movie Poltergeist terrifies me.  It doesn’t matter that it’s been years since its release or that I am no longer eight-years-old: it is terrifying.  For those of you unfamiliar with the premise of the movie, and its subsequent sequels, a collection of supernatural forces, a.k.a. ghosts, basically thirsts for the “life force” of a young girl, Carol Anne, and haunt, terrorize, attack the family in an attempt to assume control of her to serve their purposes.  

There are two scenes in the films that I recall most clearly.  The first involves a clown doll that Carol Anne’s brother had.  The ghosts animate the doll, whose arms grow long enough to wrap around his throat in an attempt to strangle him.  Couple this scene with the fact that my grandmother collected clown figurines, and this chica had a real hard time going into Gram’s basement where they lined the shelves, staring evilly at the passersby.  The second scene comes in the second film, when sweet, blonde, white-nightie-clad Carol Anne, hugging her stuffed animal, answers a child's phone that has just rung of its own accord.  She turns and says, in what is frankly one of the creepiest voices ever, “They’re back.”  

This scene came to mind last night whilst I was lost in a reverie.  Anyone who is goal-oriented, competitive, or conscientious (or all of the above) understands this: there is an inner monologue that drives us to achieve said goals, beat the competition, and/or live with integrity.  This narration has the power to uplift: “You can do this.” “Take a deep breath and take it one day at a time.”  This can be the difference between running the last lap, finishing first, or, my personal favorite, deciding to avoid going to Target on a Sunday because payday is three days away.  However, there is a dark side to its power because as much as it can uplift, it can pull out your legs from beneath you just as easily; perhaps more so.

As I sat last night pondering various things, a sadness began creeping up. This in and of itself is not such a big deal, but those of you who are familiar with my story know I have been struggling with depression and have recently been greatly helped by medication.  Last night, though, as the sadness flitted spectre-like through me, I suddenly heard it: the voice in my head, the nasty one who points out my shortcomings and flaws, my failures and mistakes, the one who harps and harps, the one who ignores the innumerable blessings in my life, the voice was back.  

A year ago, I probably would have succumbed to it; thankfully, because of the medication, I could now hear it and recognize it for what it was.  I got up and did a workout, as there ain’t nothin’ like endorphins to banish those old ghosts.  However, as I was stepping through my workout, escaping the whispering tendrils of negativity, I started to wonder about its origin.  From where does it come?  And what prompts us to allow this apparition pervade our thoughts and linger in the heart?

For some it is brain chemistry and others the ectoplasm of harsh critics or traumatic events.  It may even be a combination of both.  I wonder, too, what others do to combat their particular phantoms.  I mean, I know there is a wealth of information on the web; I know there are thousands of books.  I guess I wonder more about what the people I know do to fight the ghosts, not because it will necessarily work for me but because I want to be able to help them with the fight.  

There is another 80s film springing to mind, at the end of which the city of New York is covered in white sugary goo from the recently destroyed Stay Puft Marshmallow Man that had been wreaking havoc.  I think it’s important to let people know when the ghosts are spewing their green slime.  One can never have too many proton packs to banish them.