We all have one. Did you ever have a relative who embarrassed you—even just a little? He could have been a dopey little brother, a nutty spinster aunt, or even your parents when you were a teenager. Well, I have an evil twin, and he not only embarrasses me, I am ashamed of him, too.
A long time back, I shoved him into the basement of my subconscious; it was easier to pretend he didn’t exist. Recently, he became so loud I could no longer ignore him. I invited him upstairs for a visit.
Once I started listening to him he became quieter. I’m embarrassed by him less, and no longer am I ashamed.
Oh, he still thinks awful things, and every now and then he acts on them. For example, he recently wished havoc on an ex-partner and spoke ill of him to a mutual friend. But these less-than-pure thoughts and occasional rude actions no longer pack the punch they once did. More often than not, I can listen, observe, and reserve judgment. At times, I can even find compassion. I know that he is acting out of fear. He’s scared. Instead of berating him, I can soothe him.
I can’t say that I love my evil twin yet, but I am beginning to like him. Sometimes, he even makes me laugh.
Henry Miller was right when he wrote: “The full and joyful acceptance of the worst may be the only sure way of transforming it.” A shadow is no longer a shadow when it meets the full light of day.