Brando Makes Another Appearance
Brando’s Back. I’m Not Fighting Him This Time.
How I learned that feeding the beast makes him bigger, and starving him makes him wander off to the craft service table.
If you’ve been here before, you already know Brando. He’s my anxiety, quiet, powerful, and completely convinced he’s still the star of this production. (New here? Brando is the name I gave my inner critic. Naming him changed everything. That’s a whole other essay (read here)
For a long time, I fought him. Every. Single. Time. He’d show up with his contemptuous voice whispering in my ear, and I’d push back, argue, try to logic my way out of the spiral. White-knuckle it until he left.
Here’s what I learned the hard way: fighting Brando makes him bigger.
Not metaphorically bigger. Practically bigger. The more energy I gave him, the more room he took up. The resistance was the fuel.
The Moment He Tries to Steal
Here’s one of his favorite moves.
I look at my list for the day. I pick one challenging task, something that actually matters, and I do it. I finish it. I mark it off.
There’s a moment right after, a quiet, good moment, where I feel something like hope. Like maybe this time it’s different. Like maybe I’m actually building something.
That’s when Brando leans in.
“That’s not going to last.”
Quiet. Almost subconscious. Just a single seed of doubt, dropped right into the middle of the good feeling. Then, if I let him, he builds on it.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’ll give up when it gets hard. You always do.”
That’s the sneaky shit he pulls. He doesn’t show up when things are falling apart. He shows up right when they’re starting to come together.
The Old Way: Fight Back
For years, my instinct was to argue. To line up the evidence. To remind myself of everything I’d accomplished and use it as a weapon against the doubt.
It never worked.
Because arguing with Brando is like negotiating with a hostage taker. The moment you engage on his terms, he’s already won. You’re in his movie now. You’re reacting to his script.
The more I fought, the longer he stayed. He loves a scene with conflict.
The New Way: Thank Him and Keep Moving
Now, when Brando leans in with his poison, I do something that took me a long time to actually mean:
I thank him.
“Thanks, Brando.”
A breath. I might even put my hand on my heart, then I keep moving.
Not sarcastically. Not as a trick. Genuinely. Because Brando’s showing up, in his weird, destructive way, is a signal. It usually means I’m doing something that matters. Something that has stakes. He doesn’t bother with the stuff that doesn’t count.
When I stop fighting and just acknowledge him, something shifts. He doesn’t get the scene he came for. And without a scene, he’s got nothing to do.
The Craft Service Table
Here’s what happens next, and I’m not making this up.
Brando wanders off to the craft service table.
He makes himself a cup of black coffee. Grabs a handful of peanut M&M’s. Pops a few in his mouth. Chews. That annoying chewing action where he’ll intentionally open his mouth at moments like he’s about to say something. Takes a slow sip. Slurp. Eyes me up and down from across the room.
Sometimes he throws one at me when I’m not looking. It bounces off the side of my head, just behind my temple. I turn around. Remember, he’s there. Give him a nod.
I see you.
Then I go back to work.
Eventually, I look up, and he’s gone. Back to hair and makeup. Back to his trailer. Probably napping. Brando isn’t on the call sheet today. He’s never on the call sheet. He just shows up like he’s still number one on it.
On Some Days, I Almost Feel Sorry for Him
Brando was built to protect me. Some version of him showed up a long time ago because something in my nervous system decided he was necessary. He’s been running that same script ever since.
He must miss the spotlight.
But it’s mine now. This is my movie. I’m writing it. I’m directing it. And there is no role for an aging, uninvited co-star who shows up unannounced and tries to steal scenes.
Try This When Brando Shows Up to Steal Your Good Moments
Don’t argue. Don’t explain. Don’t defend.
The moment you engage on his terms, you’re in his movie.
Take one breath.
Get present. Don’t focus on what Brando wants you to catastrophize about in the future. Right now. What is actually true right now?
Thank him.
Out loud if you can. It sounds ridiculous. Do it anyway. It breaks the spell.
Keep moving.
One small action. That’s it. You’re back in the director’s chair.
Notice how fast he leaves.
That’s the real metric. Not whether he shows up, he will. How quickly you recover. That number keeps getting smaller.
P.S.
What does your Brando show up to steal? The good moments, or the hard ones?
Hit reply. I’d genuinely love to know.
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