Inner Decisions

Monsters under the Bed

She told me she was pacing the floor at 4 AM, again, worried about the mess she’d made of things the day before at work. She’d stood on her principles, maybe too firmly. She hadn’t made a good case for why she felt that way. When most everyone stood up against her she felt totally defeated. She wanted to throw in the towel. Pacing the floor, she was asking the monsters who lived under her bed, “Why do I keep putting myself in that position? I know better.” The beady eyes glowing in the dark just stared at her.

For whatever reason, bizarre thoughts come into our heads at 4 in the morning, the woman dressed in PJs started thinking about the movie where Cole Sear tells Malcolm Crowe, “I see dead people.” She chuckles wondering if the things that awaked her two hours earlier than the alarm were ghosts. “Huh! They certainly are ghosts of my mistakes.” Curious if that’s what M. Night Shyamalan really was writing about, she stared back at the eyes. Patting the purring calico who was waiting for her to return to bed she whispered, “Hey, Pumpkin, we’ll have to watch The Sixth Sense again. It’s been like two decades since I’ve seen it.” She knew she probably wouldn’t and shrugged off the strange promise she made to the monsters under the bed and thought about all the other promises she’d made to them that she never kept. The promises she made just to shut up their nagging.

Opening a bottle of water, she knew she would apologize to the key people in some way and would find the humility to talk to those small-minded asshats who pinned her up against “the wall of shame,” she thought and chuckled again.  She would accept how she failed her principles and herself. She would accept defeat. Again. And then she vowed to find a way to send those monsters residing under her bed a new home, maybe in an unused closet in an unused room somewhere. Somewhere else.

That’s when she promised, herself not them, to call me.

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