December 10, 2010
...the monsters under my bed...
I used to worry in the middle of the night. Though I was never quite sure that I believed in the monsters under my bed, I preferred to err on the side of caution. I would exhort them to show themselves and declare myself brave enough to handle those unseen, unheard, unknown frightening things that my mind was busy creating. The internal dialogue would continue as I made my way down the hall and back again. While I have been able to silence the fear of nighttime creepy-crawlies, that mechanism of coping has stayed with me.
Yesterday I used it to call out an element of myself that makes life less gumdrops and rainbows than I would like. I planted my feet on the floor, put my hands on my hips and I tried to look as brave as I could in the face of something that I am not quite sure I believe in.
Within moments of declaring that my anxiety would not defeat me that day, it was gone, all that remained was the faintest whisper of fear in the wind. Soon that was carried away and I was able to begin again.