A life full of experiences has costs. Achievements are balanced by failures and pain, much of which hangs with us to surface at inconvenient times. I’ve written often of “The Darkside of the Man“…and these artifacts make up a substantial portion of that.
They can’t be excised though. It’s part of what makes us what we are.
From a recent dream:
His tone was simultaneously condescending, accusatory, and insulting, “Those are some pretty serious monsters under your bed. It’s an indictment of your character that you have them at all. Don’t you think you need to get rid of them? There’s a service.”
“Drugs. Counseling. Re-education.”
“For them or for me?” His smile was ugly and I watched him carefully. We both knew the answer to that already. I’d already decided not all the monsters were hiding.
“Well? You want ’em gone?” He licked his lips in anticipation.
“No. Leave them be.”
“Why?” He was incredulous and took a step toward me. “They’re hiding, waiting to pounce when you least expect it.”
“No. Actually. They’re not.” I carefully rolled up my sleeves.
“Then why are they there? It’s YOU they’re stalking.”
“No.” I stepped toward him, a dangerous smile on my face, “It’s ME they’re hiding from.”
A couple tunes that are apropos:
I’m friends with the monster that’s under my bed
Get along with the voices inside of my head
You’re tryin’ to save me, stop holdin’ your breath
And you think I’m crazy, yeah, you think I’m crazy
Well, that’s nothin’
I see your monsters
I see your pain
Tell me your problems
I’ll chase them away
I’ll be your lighthouse
I’ll make it okay
When I see your monsters
I’ll stand there so brave
And chase them all away
I’ll see you on the road.