Monsters in the Closet

I pretend that I can keep myself contained. I somehow lie to myself thinking that I can just show people what I want them to see, even if it’s not the ideal me. But being a heart on your sleeve kind of person complicates the desire to keep things neat and tidy.

I started my day thinking I was doing pretty well. As a frustration popped up here or there, I quieted it with a deep breath and kept going. But breathing never really rids one of the ugly, it just oxygenates it. Somehow the real dirty pieces began taking in my oxygen and my collected shell was worthless. My ugly pieces started oozing out all over.


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When pieces like that start to show you can’t shove them back in fast enough.

I can’t undo the words spoken or the volume at which I spoke them.

I can’t erase the dirty look or the clenched teeth.

I can’t take back my opinions spread freely about another as if they hold any merit.

So now I’m left with those ugly pieces of me oozing out all over for everyone to see. If no one saw them would I care? I seem to forget that it’s not the fact that others can see them that causes my pain. Rather it is the fact that I try to hide those parts of me that hurts me. We all have parts of ourselves that we don’t want people to see. Maybe it’s not the ugly pieces that are so bad, maybe it’s the hiding that creates the mess.

So I’m left to wonder what I can do to fix this, to fix me. I realize I have to look at the ugly rather than pretend it doesn’t exist. A monster in the closet is more intimidating than one in the open.

I can quiet my tongue enough to say I’m sorry.

I can loosen my jaw and admit that my face can speak louder than my words.

I can talk about what matters instead of passing judgement on others.

I am not helpless in this mess. If I want to stop oozing, I need to stop containing.


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