Monsters

I’m thrilled to feature one of my favorite posts by one of my favorite bloggers today.  Corinne from Trains, Tutus, and Teatime agreed to let me share her post, which for some reason (since that title doesn’t appear anywhere) I’ve called “Monsters” in my head.  This is a classic example of Corinne’s ability to “see into the life of things” (WW) which is only one of the reasons I love her.  She writes about her children, her relationship to the beach and to nature, her sobriety (seven months now!) … really, she writes about nothing less than the meaning of life.  Beautifully, eloquently, insightfully.  I’ve been fortunate to spend a bunch of time with Corinne in person and she’s even more lovely, gentle, soulful, and wise than you’d imagine from reading her gorgeous words.  I’m honored to call her my friend.
Please enjoy Monsters, and do click over to Trains, Tutus, and Teatime.  You won’t regret it!
Courage

Fynn tip toes through the hallway of his grandparents house. Textured white walls, cool for the Florida summers, snapshots of his and his sisters babyhoods hung in every room. Only starting to become familiar with the rooms and space, he ducks into a dark, windowless bathroom. He’s looking for shadows…. for Monsters. Armed with a blue flashlight as big as his arm, and a grin, he looks behind the door.

“Monsters!!!”

I ask if he’s scarred. He’s not.

“They’re just shadows, Mommy. Now lets find that cave!”

And off we go down the hall to my parents bedroom, facing shadows turned Monsters turned back to shadows with the glare of a beam of white light. My three and a half year old walking with a bobbing head and dance in his step, full of courage as he tames fears and darkness.

~~~~~

We’ve seen the episode of Curious George at least a hundred times. Monsters in the dark, George frightened and the Man with the Yellow Hat saving the night with a flip of a switch. Shadows from every day objects brought Monsters to life for George. The power goes out at the house in the country, lights unavailable, flashlights found and turned on, George is able to take care his Monsters by himself. Or maybe the scene happened in a cave, or was an entirely different episode. They all blend together in my mind, watched during the pre-dinner rush of dishes and pans waltzing from counter to stove to sink.

~~~~~

The dark hours are the times I struggle. The strength and courage I face the day with dwindles as fatigue sets in. Shadows of memories turn to Monsters. Finding a safe flashlight, one with a clear beam, is the biggest challenge of my recovery from alcoholism {or is it with? It’s never going to disappear… over three months into sobriety I still have trouble with the lingo}

The old source of light came in the form of a bottle, smelling sweet and acidic. It only smudged the Monsters, leaving them blurry enough so they blended into the walls and I could sleep. Not comfortably but I slept, though they were always there.

Now I don’t sleep. I’m learning, slowly, how to face them with a new light, a new source of power and clarity. Perhaps a lighthouse beacon instead of just any old flashlight… Facing them with this new illumination is difficult. It takes patience to steady my shaking hand, to quiet the mind and see and listen and turn them back into shadows inch by inch. But it takes time, and many nights staring at the walls and ceiling, in silent prayer and mediation. Hoping for a miracle within myself, or for The Man with the Yellow Hat to come walking in and calmly turn on the light.

~~~~~

We spend twenty minutes giggling and looking for Monsters. Searching cave after cave. Breathless, I ask him where he learned to be so brave, where he found his courage.

“George, Mommy. George goes into the cave with a flashlight and he’s not scared anymore.”

I’m arming myself with a flashlight, shining a beam of three and a half year old courage and bravery, hope and acceptance, onto the dark walls that house the Monsters. Created by years of numbing and shoving elsewhere, they’re on their way to becoming shadows again. It’s about time.

15 thoughts on “Monsters”

  1. I remember reading this post at Corinne’s place and I was breathless. I’m so glad to read it again… a powerful reminder. Thank you. xo

  2. goosebumps. For your story and the way you tell it. I was so moved by this the first time I read it, but even more so now.

    Corinne – you have come so far and *you* are helping to be that light for so many. This is just beautiful.

    Linds, I’m so glad you shared Corinne’s post here today. You two are two of my favorite writers out here.

    Love you both.

    e.

  3. I’m with Denise. I remember this post well, but I’m so thankful for the reminder today. My demons are different, but I need a little of the courage that radiates from this post. Thanks Corinne!
    xo

  4. I follow Corinnne’s blog but had not read this particular post before and can see how this would be a favorite for anyone. I love how she brings the story of her son scaring off his imaginary monsters to compare to her own battle with her very own demon. Wonderfully written.

  5. I’ve read this particular post before, but am glad to have the opportunity to read it again. The honesty is refreshing and Corrine’s ability to reveal her authentic self is courageous. Thanks.

  6. Lovely seeing you here, Corinne, and thank you, Lindsey, for hosting her!

    A favorite of mine as well. The thing that really sticks out to me is how unafraid Fynn is of the imaginary monsters and the stark contrast of Corinne’s deep seated fear of her own. A clear representation of me versus my children. Children believe that we can slay away any monsters but who will do the slaying for us? This is where Corinne neatly ties in that we are our own monster slayers. Deep inside we have the power to overcome most if not all things. A beautiful reminder of how strong we all really are.

  7. I enjoy reading Corinne’s but missed this, so thanks Lindsey for curating and to Corrine for writing.

    I always loved Curious George, but I have to say that when I read him again with my kids I couldn’t help but feel that the Yellow Hat dude was just a wee bit creepy—kidnapping George and all. We love George, maybe because we all have to find some way to honor our curiosities, our child-sides and to live our animals, as Jung might put it. Sometimes I wonder if the Man in the Yellow Hat isn’t, oddly, more the monster than the helper.

    Okay, maybe it’s just a kids’ story and he has nothing to do with colonialist imperialism 🙂

    Wishing brave flashlights and stalwart lighthouses for all our journeys.

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