I sit and stare at my fingernails, well the broken stubs that were once fingernails that have now shattered into white crescents scattered across the weekend. As I stare, I try not to bite and even them off as I once would have when I was six. That was the year my aunt gave me an Alvin and the Chipmunks album when I stopped biting my nails. The urge still overtakes me as an adult, whenever I'm uncertain or nervous and I have been known to nibble a bit on my right thumbnail from time to time. It goes hand-in-hand with the lower lip biting.
But, these broken nails come honestly from sweat and work. Not the endless worry that I used to have. Over the past two years I've become braver and more at ease with myself - or is it that I just don't give a ... ah well, you know - I don't care as much anymore what people think. I'm comfortable in my skin for a change. Hell, I guess that's what it is because...well, that not caring thing again.
There are still worries...but they are better, more precious worries - like wanting the best for family and friends, doing a good job, things like that. Productive stuff. Most of the time....until the monsters visit at 3:00 a.m.
Hmm...? The 3 am monsters, I've been getting visits too. I was bothered, (ok, I'm still bothered, just not by them) then I figured out it was just MY inner monster wanting to come out and play. Of course he wants his friends to come over for cookies and such,it can be a bit of an event but nothing to much to worry about.
ReplyDeletethat made me laugh and is a good way to look at it
ReplyDeleteSome times we need to cut our inner monster some slack. Maybe set out a couple shots of Jagger' and a plate full of cookies before you go to bed. It may not help, but it probly' wont hurt either.
ReplyDeleteWe had monsters under our beds; I found a fantastic book "Mr Underbed".
ReplyDeleteThe monsters never came back.
I chewed my nails and my fingers and cuticals terribly until I was in my 20's. Then I stopped. Almost. Overnight.