The Moment I Grew Up

The Moment I Grew Up

Most young children check beneath their beds for monsters before laying their heads to rest each night. Regardless of age, each person in this world holds a fear, his own form of monster. To select one person at random—any one will do—and examine this person’s mentality would reveal an innermost desire: to be accepted despite the aforementioned monster. To attain this acceptance from someone evinces love.

The monsters of this world have many forms; fear and hatred, pride and greed, the list is unending. For me, this soul-conjured, heart-spun monster appears each time I gaze into the mirror. I keep this monster, my horrid self, locked far and away, out of sight. The masks change often, but I can never quite put them down. Throughout my life, I have believed that showing anyone my whole, true being would cause this person to retract his or her claim to my friendship. For years, this fear, this belief, has proven correct and steadfast. Nothing I had found could alter this notion, could shake off its hold on me. However, recent events of this past year have unwound this anxious stress and have proven me thankfully wrong.

Toward the end of my senior year of high school, I had felt a growing closeness toward a school friend. My love-life at the time had become a pathetic mess. My monster had been seen; my loved one had noticed the hideous creature within me. I was heartbroken and wretched. Seeing an image of his own self in me, my friend helped me to my feet and aided in the stitching to mend my torn heart. I wanted to trust, but each glimpse into the mirror reminded me of the foul, odious form I harbored within. Regardless of how revolting I knew I was, I needed this. Just once, I wanted to be looked upon without the badly-hidden disgust. Just once, I wanted to be embraced wholly. Just once, I wanted acceptance.

I waited, the gravel crunching beneath my feet. Though I had been assured I could trust him, I couldn’t bring myself to take the leap. Fear etched its way into my thoughts, and anxiety wound its way around my consciousness. I knew rejection and hatred all too well. What would come would come, and nothing could stop it. The pain I recalled from previous experiences was too real. It would take all of my strength for me to push myself to take that first step. I prayed it wouldn’t be my last. Too many attempts had failed. Was it worth it? Could I really take this chance?

Sometimes, a chance must be taken—an opportunity seized. I held my breath as we took our seats on that mildewed park bench, the black-as-pitch night mingling with the humid air of June. My exhalation signaled the beginning of my tale, the revelation of my monster. He listened quietly, compassion in his gaze. With each story and recounting, another piece of the puzzle fell into my friend’s hands. Finally, my monster’s likeness was revealed; the last fragment of the image slid into place. The instinct to flee from the imminent rejection overwhelmed me. I hid my face in my hands. Tears fell.

When one reveals oneself fully before another, laying everything bare, a sense of dread creeps in. I quivered, waiting for the impact of repulsion. Instead, I felt the warmth of his embrace. He accepted me, though I could not fathom why. Hot tears slipped down my face and spattered against the evening-chilled pavement beneath our feet. I couldn’t be that simple, or maybe it could. As I looked into his eyes, I had my answer: he saw himself as the monster, not me.

Once your own monster has been accepted, you realize others hold monsters of their own. Little by little, his monster’s form was placed before me. Word by word, he drew up its image. I wrapped my arms around him. Trembling, he presented before me his own monster. Yes, it was a monster, but shining brightly behind it was his angel. I realized then that I must have an angel too.

Every man has a monster: the embodiment of his evils. On the opposite side of the spectrum, however, every man has the embodiment of his good: his angel. The pain of scars may stay with a man every waking moment of his day. The wounds of the past may wriggle their way into his every thought. Regardless of how many wrongs he has done, though, he still has an angel to give light to his good. To make this realization is truly to grow up.