by Beth Goodman

Disclaimers: None whatsoever. Oh, maybe a spew alert.

Feedback is always welcome: bethgoodman@e-scribblers.com.

Copyright © 2004 by Beth Goodman. All Rights Reserved.

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Most kids have imaginary friends at one point or another. I had lots of them.

As a matter of fact, at the ripe old age of 37, I still do.

The latest addition to my mental menagerie is a huge grizzly bear named Hank. He's very personable, and tries to help around the house, but he tends to be a little bit too strong for his own good. Last night he helped me with the laundry and I wound up with a bunch of shredded shirts.

Before Hank showed up, the most recent product of my over active imagination was My Invisible Friend Xena. She stormed into my life one afternoon when I was trying to figure out how to cope with a particularly difficult person at church who had managed to turn my life upside down. I was walking my dogs and trying to think how I could approach this situation with love and maturity when into my mind pops: "What would Xena do?" I had this sudden vision of Xena leaping over three rows of pews to land in front of my nemesis and lopping his head off with her sword in one fell swoop. His head flew into the air and then bounced its way up the aisle.

I stopped dead in my tracks and laughed like a mad woman at that image.

Now before you run off to call the loony bin for a pick-up, let me explain a few things.

First off, I really do have an incredibly active imagination. My therapist (yes, I do have someone keeping tabs on my mental stability, you can relax now) and I think it is a manifestation of my ADHD -- which stands for Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder. Now before you start snickering about the Queen of the Lazy people being hyperactive, you need to understand that in adults the hyperactivity manifests as unexplained anxiety, not physical energy. In a nutshell, my brain doesn't have enough to do, and either I find a way to entertain it or it makes me crazy.

For years, I've listened to books on tape to help me go to sleep at night. Music won't work, it's too predictable, I literally need something to occupy my mind or I lay there wide awake -- like last night -- when I had, of all things, California Girls by The Beach Boys playing endlessly in my head.

My imaginary friends also help keep my brain occupied -- thinking about Hank and what he might be doing helped me finally get to sleep last night. Hank actually appeared earlier in the day yesterday when I was joking with a friend about building a cabin in the mountains and taming wild animals for entertainment. The next thing I knew, Hank had followed me home and was enjoying himself in the hot tub (and yes, the hot tub is also imaginary.)

I suspect my imaginary friends are a coping mechanism left over from my early childhood. When I was very little, my life was really unstable, and very frightening. I suffered from horrible nightmares, and I clearly remember one night shrinking down all the monsters I was afraid of until they were only six inches high, and setting them on patrol around my bed. They were no longer a threat to me, but they were more than a match for the nightmares -- at least most of the time. I was also very afraid of going anywhere without Granny, and to help myself with that one I came up with an invisible friend who was the Frankenstein monster -- he was very friendly and walked me to school every day, and I had faith in him to keep the scary stuff away.

My imaginary friends stayed dormant for quite a while, but they began creeping out again when I found myself in a very bad situation that would ultimately result in the loss of my job. I was under extreme pressure to behave in a manner that contradicted my personal code of conduct, and I worked myself into exhaustion trying to do what I was asked and what I felt needed to be done. I was also the victim of some serious persecution at this time, and I used to imagine rolling a hand grenade into the office of my nemesis whenever I walked by, and then hearing the explosion a few seconds later. Before you get too worried here, I'm talking about your average cartoon type explosion where the victim is just soot covered and startled, not the kind where body parts go flying.

I first started seeing a psychotherapist at this time, and it took her a few weeks to quit asking me, "And you've never been in therapy before?" as I told her my life stories. I told her about the grenades, and I that I was worried I might be losing my grip, and headed down the path to becoming a mass murder. She put my fears to rest, and told me that I had found a safe way to relieve the stress I was under, and had been rather creative in doing so. She also told me not to worry about the imaginary grenades -- unless I found myself purchasing real ones.

So, at any rate, I've come to accept that my imaginary friends are an important part of my life, and I just sit back and enjoy them. My Invisible Friend Xena has come in handy at many a long meeting -- where she clears the agenda quite neatly, and I must admit, I've really gotten a kick out of being followed around by a huge grizzly bear named Hank. He's working on licking all the honey off his muzzle right now -- he got into the cupboard and had himself a little snack.

Take me to Life With Granny 19...

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