There are days when the beast is louder than it is on other days, when the incessant “scratch, scratch, scratch” outside the door just won’t stop, won’t go away.  Days when, no matter how much I try to stifle the noise with work, with friendship, with family, with busy-busy-busy noises, it is always there, rumbling, growling, panting, demanding.  

 

The messages are always the same :

“Stop trying, because you are going to fail”.  

“Hide your face, because you are shameful.”.

“Who are you kidding? You are unlovable”.

 

And so I go on, like a hamster on a wheel, trying to drown the fear by pushing heart and soul to the limit.  Trying to drown the shame by finding ways to excel.  Trying to drown the loneliness by surrounding myself with people.

 

Until, eventually, it breaks down the door and skulks through the house, tearing off doors, snapping at my heels until it corners me, whimpering and small, and says “I told you so.”

 

One day, I will find that magical thing which will silence the beast, will send it on its way, and show it that I’m not afraid of it, that its noise is meaningless to me.

 

Today is not that day. 

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