On Being A Monster

Greetings from the Master procrastinator. I meant to give you a post a month ago cuz I was pretty much caught up and I was going to stay caught up. Hah. I tried. Believe me I tried. But the inspiration left me. I wrote up a post about my boys and laundry week. But it was forced. Oh so forced. I was just going to tell you what I did at exactly what time. ‘At 0645 I stepped over the threshold of the laundry room to start my laundry. So just be thankful that I didn’t give you boringness whole you are unthankful that you don’t have anything new to read on here. I kept saying ‘oh I’ll write one up on break.’ We’ll break turned into tomorrow turned into weeks turned into months........and here it is. Today. So today I WILL do this. 

  I’ll explain a little bit about the title of my blog. ‘Why monsters?’ are some people’s thoughts. ‘She’s 19 and she’s had wonderful opportunities and a great life!’ Well those monsters sometimes get to a person. No matter if you have had a good life or no. Monsters, like dark clouds, can rain on anyone’s parade. Even if they are having a fairly wonderful day, week, month, year, whatever. Doesn’t matter if they are having a wonderful life or are hating life, the rain still comes. And either you can get over it and chill or you can be still whining when the sun is out. Enough preaching. 

  This, following, is what I wrote 2 years ago when my life broke irreparably.   

  

   It's the middle of the night. The deep breathing of sleeping humans is scattered thruout the house. Until a child's waking cry breaks the silence. It grows louder until she succeeds to rouse the sister <me> next to her. 'What's the matter?' I ask. 'Why are u crying?'

'Monsters,' she whimpers. Just 'Monsters.'

'It's OK, baby,' I whisper back. 'It was just a dream. Monsters aren't real.'

  How wrong I was.

  Everybody has at least one monster that makes its home under their bed. Some people call these monsters Satan. Some people call them Sin. Some people give them names like Pride and Selfishness and Mean-ness and Disobedience and Jealousy. I just call them monsters. These are not ordinary child-version monsters. These monters are not visible to the eye. Not tangible. But they are just as scary.

 This monster of mine can change its appreance. It can be huge or tiny. It can be red or it can be black. And it can do a myriad of different things. Sometimes this monster convinces me to do things I shouldn't do. It sees me talking and convinces me to get mad when I think someone else is wrong and I'm right. It sees me crying and convinces me that I have a harder life than other people. It sees me doing someone else's job and convinces me that I'm better than that someone else. It convinces me to think unkind thoughts about people and to treat them unkindly too. It sees me hurt and convinces me that maybe if I would have said and done something else than maybe my life would have turned out different. Better.

 But sometimes I fight this monster. Not by myself. If I try by myself it torments me worse. Instead I ask for the help of one certain Soldier. Together we can wound him and chase him away. But I always have to be careful because this monster never will die. It will keep on attacking me and convincing me to do wrong. The only way to keep him away is to follow my Soldier and do what he tells me.

 My own monster isn't the only one that can hurt me. Other people's monsters that live under their beds hurt me too. Sometimes they hurt me by convincing their person to say something mean. Or they convince their person to make up lies to take my little sisters away. But I can't blame these people. I also have a monster. And because our monters can change size and shape, no monster is worse or better than any other. I hate monsters.

  Memories. Two little girls. Hugs. Temper tantrums. Kisses. Scratches. Mischievous glints in two pairs of sparkling eyes. Time outs. Wise words spoken solemnly (repeated after Daddy). A few hurtful words rashly shouted. Yes monsters are real. But love is also real. And stronger.

  There you have it. The day my little sisters left and I was left with tears streaming down my face from those dark clouds, I could have accepted those monsters. And I could have been grouchy and tearful for the rest of my life. But I chose to chase those dark clouds, those monsters away. Those two girls were my sisters for 5 years and I will always think of them as my sisters. I won’t forget about them but I’ll forget about those dark clouds that were in the way for awhile. 

  I see my little sisters in these children I take care of now. And it might hurt to see my sisters in these kids and know I will never see my sisters again. But I can’t not love these kids for the hurt they unknowingly cause me. Maybe I love them more for it. Maybe I love them more for the fact that I can see them and I will never see my sisters again.