Monster

Note: This blog is a reflection on my personal struggle with emotions.  It reads almost like a children's story, and "monster" may be something different for everyone.  This is what "monster" meant to me.

There was a monster who slept under my bed at night.  He was so cranky in the mornings.  He was so loud, it was hard to drown him out.  I would get ready and get in my car and head to work.

I don’t know how he got in my car, but there he was, in the backseat, still being loud.  I’d change the radio stations to shut him up.  It helped. 

I’d get to work and I was very busy.  Whenever I am busy, the monster would take a nap.  He’d wake and groan now and then, and then he’d sleep again.

By the end of the day I would hope that monster would stay asleep.  He quietly came home with me, and he’d softly slip under my bed.  I’d have some hours of solace before bed.

I’d wake up the next morning and there he was, cranky again.  Always the mornings.  What was his problem? 

So I started thinking, “maybe I should take a vacation. He couldn’t possibly fit in my suitcase.” 

I packed my things, got on a plane, and headed to a beautiful destination.  A place with green rolling hills, sapphire water, and blue skies.  I didn’t see any sign of monster.

On the third day, I woke up and felt a rumbling under my bed.  Monster!! How did he get here?  He was fussy as usual.  Then he followed me around the zoo all day.  He didn’t care much for the animals.

I flew home, annoyed with monster.  Why was he doing this to me?  Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?  Why he did have to be so mean?

He’d follow me out on outings with friends on the weekend.  He’d go to the movies with me.  He’d even go to the grocery store.  I just couldn’t shake him.

Finally, one morning I woke up and monster was up to his usual morning “routine.”  But today, he looked different.  I thought that his home was under my bed, and that he was always going to bother me this way.  We never talked, but today I addressed him:

“Monster, who are you?”

“I am part of you, don’t you know that?”

“I don’t think you are.”

“What? What makes you think that?  I am with you everywhere you go.  I even go with you on vacations.”

“Yes, but you are so annoying! You make my mornings so hard, and you wear me down.”

“That’s what I do. That’s what I am.”

“What you are or what I am?”

“Oops.”

Monster had just admitted that he wasn’t actually a part of me; he was in fact an illusion that seemed very real.  He turned semi-transparent.

I began to understand monster.  He had deceived me, or had I deceived myself?

I kept thinking about what monster said, that he was a separate entity.  I thought this over and over each day.  Each day, he became more quiet, and slept more. One day, he stopped following me to work.

It took a long time, but monster became more transparent and more silent.  He’d rear his head at times, but he had changed.  Had I changed?

Sometimes I don’t see monster now.  I am aware of his existence, but I keep thinking about what he said to me, and my awareness makes him quiet.

Is the monster still under my bed?  I don’t know.  But the days I do not hear him, I smile.