In my last two months in Europe I had a revelation. An uncomfortable revelation. A revelation that I had to do something about. I could have easily ignored it, it is one of those things that sleeps deep beneath the surface and so rarely resurfaces that one can count it as unreleased stress of something else when it does come out. But because it is one of those things that I rarely ponder, yet it has a strong and unrelenting hold in my life, I decided it was time to pull the monster up, slap him around and evict him from his previous residence. I will not be daunted by some scary memory. Or at least that is what I thought.
So I came home, sad about leaving, but excited for my approaching victory, and set about finding a way to begin processing. And my search was concluded with my brand new mentor. I couldn't have asked for anyone better. We eased into each other's crazy and quirky personalities and all was going great... last week she suddenly reminded me what I had asked of her on our first meeting. To help me work though my monster. Crap. So we settled on a book to work through and a regular meeting time. Done and Done. And step 1: not so bad.
That was 5 weeks ago.
This week we met, she told me how to get the book, one of the girls I regularly meet with had a copy, and when I accidentally ran into her on the way home she was able to give it to me. And as soon as she handed it over... there it was. My monster. Staring me straight in the face.
I saw the cover: harmless. It wasn't until I glanced at the back. That sentence. The one sentence summary that so bluntly described my life. My deeply hidden monster. And he stared back at me... smiling.
When I got back to my room I put the book on back of my desk. Face up. It took most of my self-control not to hide it in one of my drawers. But my real test came when I was packing my backpack for the day... putting everything I would need for the day in that bag. And hence was my dilemma: Would I need my dreaded book for the day, or better yet, ever? I could leave it there, lying on a pile of books, or I could take it with me, and even if I didn't find time to read it between classes, exams, and social engagements, I would have intent. I would have a goal. I would venture in to the unknown depths of which my monster lived and reclaim the space which he had so long consumed.
And so I chose the later.
I haven't read it yet. Heck, I haven't even opened it. But I brought the book with me. I took my second step to kicking the crap out of that damn monster.
In the end it makes me think of Robert Frost...
| ...I shall be telling this with a sigh | |
| Somewhere ages and ages hence: | |
| Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, | |
| I took the one less traveled by, | |
| And that has made all the difference. |
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