Monster Mayhem

I have monsters.

I have eery one-eyed, black-faced, sometimes yellow-eyed monsters lurking in my closet.

Seldom do my monsters co-mingle, nor are they allowed to roam outside their confines, but there are times when an escape is imminent, leaving me on the brink of monster mayhem.

Usually, I can keep my monsters at bay with niceties and platitudes offered like sweetbread smeared with the butter of sunshine and rainbows. Other times, the lure of mindful meditation or some other woo-woo coersion keeps them in the closet.

Today isn't one of those days.

My closet is the farthest reaches of my mind, the small space where painful thoughts and memories accumulate and my monsters live.

Over the years, I've become a master at lulling them away, or so I thought.

Seemingly dormant monsters aren't sleeping at all. They lurk in shadows, awaiting opportunities to strike, and in the right conditions, poor sleep or diet, anxiety, or a disillusioned belief that I can rewrite the past unlocks and leaves ajar the door to my monster closet.

Sometimes, my monsters escape.

When open, the black-faced monster, the worst of them all, Mr. Black, breaks through my mental defenses, and the naysaying bastard runs amok in my brain, barking behind my eyes, hell-bent on choking out all hope for peace and happiness.

Mr. Black, the monster who relishes fear, rage, and regret, has muscled his way past sanity, out from the shadows of my closet, and into the light of consciousness!

When out of the closet, Mr. Black haunches back on his heels and throws tantrums like an ill-behaved, spoiled rotten demon-spawned child.

I close my eyes so tightly my head throbs while firmly pressing my fists against my temples, and scream inside my mind, "Go ahead, you short-sighted freak of nature, yell, roar, and thrash about in there. Get it out of your system, then damn you, go away!"

I'm stern now, so surely he'll slither back into the recesses of my mind.

Have you ever had food poisoning or stomach flu? You feel lightheaded and nauseous, saliva pools at the back of your gills, and you know that if you just allow yourself to throw up to clear the nastiness out of your system, you'll feel better.

If only Mr. Black would vomit out of my life for good.

But the truth is, I invited Mr. Black out of my mental abyss to wreak havoc when I traveled back to his birthplace and faced his maker.

As I sit with his creator, the man who pushes my buttons, the man I can't escape no matter how many states divide us, Mr. Black feels unstoppable.

Empowered, Mr. Black sets his sights on total mind-fuck annihilation.

Resolved to obliterate compromise and reason, he beacons the other monsters, anger, sadness, envy, and regret, out to play in his sinister reindeer games.

Defenseless, I risk losing my shit.

Face to face with the One who started it all, with his trusty Padawan hovering overhead, my heart pounds, my armpits are sweaty, and I'm figuratively running scared.

I'm terrified of what will happen if Mr. Black completely obliterates my closet, unopposed, spewing repressed venom. But I'm also overwhelmed, ill-equipped, and too tired of struggling to keep him at bay.

Mr. Black is too strong. I can't banish him because I nourish him with lies.

We all do.

The lies we tell ourselves provide ample monster ammo, and the more we neglect facing the root of our feelings, the more negativity accumulates until our monsters break free to mount a full-scale attack.

Monsters are born from painful moments we try to bury but can't or don't know how to manage. Fear of judgment, people-pleasing, and lax personal boundaries also make irresistible monster bait.

Too often, we pacify ourselves into believing that if we ignore them, our monsters will slink away or stay hidden in our closet forever, which sadly are more lies.

Worse, we fall prey to the illusion of order and control. We want to think we are in charge of the monsters that live just beyond self-restraint, peace, and contentment.

Pacifying and threatening Mr. Black didn't work, so I tried reasoning with him, but he proved impervious to my control tactics because bigotry, prejudice, and racial intolerance are the high notes of the ignorance-themed rally cry that lures him and strengthens his resolve.

Through a salacious and menacing grin, Mr. Black whispers to me, "My dear, you are fucked. I cannot be coddled or controlled, and I cannot be wished away. You don't have the power to banish me, not today."

He continues, "I will haunt your every thought and bleed your conscience dry because you're short-sighted and weak. You cannot see the forest for the trees." (**Insert sinister laugh for effect.**)

What does that even mean??

Sitting with his creator, the man who pushes my buttons, the man I can't escape, Mr. Black feels unbeatable, but I must deploy evasive maneuvers!

Yet, how do you slay the dragon who knows your every battle move?

"Hi, Dad. It's good to see you."

More lies.

J.Jae Hermann © 2019.