Monster in the Mirror

Maybe there are times when our greatest act of love is to keep somebody out…

To push them away.

To leave them alone.

Because even though you tell yourself you’re pushing them away because you’re afraid to be hurt…maybe the truth is something much darker. And much more painful to face than that lowly heartbreak and abandonment I thought I was running from.

Maybe you push them away, because some part of you knows that if you stay…

They will have to endure a monster.

Maybe when they leave, you let them go with such ease because deep down you know–it was only a matter of time.

You know it’s only a matter of time until they meet the beast…and you’re left all alone all over again. In the end, it's best to just push them away. 

Because it always ends the same–you will feel broken. And you will do damage. 

That second part is pretty hard to swallow. That I have done damage. That I have, in certain ways, been abusive. That I have hurt all the people that I have loved so deeply. That I have treated them, at times, and sometimes--or often--very poorly, and quite the opposite of what I intended. 

What does that say about me? 

That I am abusive? That I am just human? Or something less? 

I guess we all have our villain stories.

Everybody wonders why I locked myself away.

Maybe it wasn’t just fear of the monsters out there. Maybe I locked my own cage when I saw the monster in the mirror.

I wasn't mad at the world, as somebody threw in my face, as if I was doing something terribly wrong by simply taking time for myself. I was hurt by the world. Repeatedly. From the beginning. There was a time I was mad at the world. But who wasn't at 19? (And, like, the six years before that, amiright guys? Please, somebody agree so I can validate how angry I was as a teenager LOL.)

But no, I accepted the world for what it was. What it is. I was no longer angry.

But I was hurt. I felt so deeply hurt, the kind of emotional hurt that would cause physical pain in my chest. The kind of deep pain that would culminate in cries that burned my throat, because I screamed louder than my vocal cords would even allow, for God to please, please, please help.

I was so hurt, and I just kept attracting people and situations that hurt me. I juat kept ending up more hurt no matter what I tried or how positive I was or how hard I worked on myself... Here I was, after working so hard on myself, and still getting dealt the same hand. I was exhausted; I was hurt. But no. I wasn't mad at the world.

I was mad at me. I was mad at me for the ways I had been toxic, for the ways I had been hurtful. I was mad at myself for creating the same behavior in each man I loved. I was mad at myself for finding myself in the same situation, again and again, as if I was riding on a merry-go-round that was designed to torture me.

It wasn't until I saw the way I had hurt somebody else, that I realized that just as much as the long list of ex-whoever's I blamed for hurting me, that I was doing the exact same thing. That as much as I begged the world not to hurt me, I did nothing to stop the pain I was causing. That as much as I cried out that everybody always leaves me, I was almost always the first one out the door. That as much as I longed for warmth, I myself could be incredibly cold, and downright heartless, mostly in romantic relationships, if I thought they were even maybe going to hurt me.

So, I scrapped everything. I started from scratch. I looked at every belief I could get my thoughts on (get it? instead of "get my hands on" *da dumB*), and I threw out the ones that didn't suit me. I threw out the ones that led me to act in ways that were far inferior to my character. I examined the things I had done; I paused, and I really thought about it all. And listen, I'm not saying I have it all figured out from taking a hiatus, but I do think I've learned quite a bit from finally facing the monster in the mirror.

I've come to understand the monster; I've come to love it even, in all of its naivety, making each of us believe we can protect ourselves from the inevitable pain of loving others.

Though I am certain that I have grown exponentially this year and I know that I am not the same person I was even two months ago, I find myself terrified to let people back in. I worked so hard to tame the monster in the mirror; but now that I have fully seen what I am capable of, I am terrified of acting the way that I once did--and that if I did, it would be so much worse now, because I wouldn't just be acting out of anger now; I would also see myself acting that way. And that is a truly terrifying thought.