Struggle

The gentle tones from beneath your pillow sing to you, gently carrying your mind back from worlds that only exist while you slumber. Your waking thoughts begin to stir and your struggle begins.  The reasons to arise and begin the day are challenged and questioned by hopes that your duties can wait, highlighting that deep longing pain that comes only with waking after a few meager hours of escaping the demands of discipline and success. This day, the pleading of undone laundry , a dirty apartment, and unfinished homework arouse your sense of will, so you cease your alarm’s morning lullaby instead of scheduling another performance at a later time.

With your future intentions brought to the forefront of your mind you brave the chilly air outside your blanket enduring moment of goosebump skin and stumble as if you had spun yourself one too many times; toppling over invisible obstacles between your bed and the sink where you wash your face. You look in the mirror; the monster that hides beneath your covers looks back through the reflection. You were always told that monsters hide under the bed, not in them. Its appearance is disturbing; the skin on your face is rough and the color unevenly blended, and your hair seems to be trying to reach an object far away. Something must be done, so you turn the water on and begin the monster’s domestication.

The first bottle works to demobilize and stiffen the mane, and the second to protect it from any actual harm as you blast hot air from the hair dryer onto it’s rebellious nature. Round two is the combination of pomade, wax and hairspray to paralyze and immobilize the mane’s sense of will or action.

You turn, searching your bag of tricks that society expects to appear on the face of every woman. A shade lighter than your natural skin with a name of “ivory” erases the sorrow of lack of sleep, next “natural ivory”, which hides the imperfections, outbreaks and rebellion that have appeared on the monster’s face in recent days lived as you trudge through and in the business of an average day. A quick inspection confirms that the monster has been transformed into a blank canvas, ready for new expectations and awaiting a new transformation.

Signs of life are gently stroked onto the cheekbones to give appearance of health and youth. Next come the small touches that frame and enhances the beauty in the monster that have always existed, but on it’s own struggle to portray. Black lines on the eyes, followed with paint, glimmer and color; nature made your eyes one way, but society says that they should look bigger; stand out more. Last of all an unnatural hue changes the color of once rose color lips, making them become a natural part of that painting that hides the monster.

You scrutinize your work in the mirror, and the monster stares with you. The question arises, what is more frightening; the monster that hides beneath the covers, or the beast that gives it cause to hide. Many brave women face and welcome the beast daily, and others have befriended the monster. It was once said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but who really is the beholder; the monster or the beast?

You check the clock, the new knowledge brings more decisions; should you cook breakfast or use the time to work, to improve your learning, knowledge and work quality. The monster within tells you to take the easy way, to rest and relax for just a moment. The beast wants you to work. and you choose to cook your breakfast, pulling a pot from the deep recesses of the cupboard beside the; clanging and clashing its way from its slumber. You gather and measure what will soon be your morning meal and stir the ingredients together with your thoughts and contemplations. Fatigue clutters your mind like the cobwebs that live in the attic, and you find yourself turning to the planner; that tool which binds you to the expectations that you feel society should expect from you. The monster spots a spare hour and cries out in hopeful pleading to perhaps return to its home under the covers for a small moment. You drink in the suggestion as it’s breeze tickles the cobwebs in your mind. Suddenly the beast roars in protest, reminding you of the never ending deadlines, the lack of quality in a particular project, or the ignorance of one subject or another. More politely, you’re reminded of the chores that still await your attention as you glance at the dirty dishes in the sink and add your oatmeal pot to the pile.

The monster and the beast continue the debate as you eat your breakfast, patiently listening to each argument in turn. You decide this day to compromise, promising the beast that the work  will be done, and delighting the monster in the decision to let it hide for a moment during lunch.  

You pack your books, your computer and your self-discipline in preparation for the hours that will be spent learning and applying knowledge with the beast leading the way. You glance at the clock, you could play for five minutes, but the beast reminds you of your promise and you leave your apartment. As you walk to class, the beast walks in stride reminding you of the lessons scheduled to be learned that day, the homework assignments that have been done and the pile of dishes; waiting to be cleaned. The monster quietly trudges behind with the occasional outburst of pleasure from a particular flower or cloud in the sky.

You sit down and with the beast listen to the teacher, deciding which information is necessary enough to write on paper to remember for later. As you ascend to another class the monster impatiently mourns the hours that must be awaited before it’s reward for patience and silence. At last when the last class has ended, the beast whispers to you,

“You know, there’s that assignment that is due tomorrow, I think you should just skip the nap today. It really needs to be done,”

The monster, on the other side protests with sound logic,

“You’ve only slept for three hours, how can you do your best, if you’re sleeping through your homework; you really need to sleep.”

The debate continues, with reminders that deadlines will come no matter how much or little sleep you get, but your body constantly complains of fatigue with every stair you climb. You walk past someone eating their lunch,  and the warm, savory smells of garlic and bread flirt with your impulses, suddenly giving the monster’s arguments light and credibility. You decide to go home for lunch and keep appointment to rest. The monster happily walks alongside you  excitedly pointing out a squirrel running up a tree or the curious shape of a branch along the way home; the beast trailing two steps behind, muttering about the dishes in the sink and the bag of unlaundered clothes sitting inside the closet, hoping that you will come to your senses.

With lunch finished; you continue your break to rest your body setting the alarm to a time that causes the beast to grate its teeth but deems acceptable. The same gentle tones that brought your waking thoughts into the day arises your senses; your mind and body join together with the monster in a chorus of siren song that lulls you back into sleep. You wake again much later than expected, with no time to comfortably achieve and fulfill the duties that is expected of you With tears pricking your eyes as you feel the pressure rising,  you feel the lump in your throat and the ache in your head increases as the deadlines draw closer.

You gratefully look to the beast, who gently encourages you to keep moving through the pain, promising that you will look back knowing that you did your best and the prize of a satisfactory grade. Eventually no logical thoughts can break through the clouds of anxiety, stress, and the pains of hunger and fatigue. The monster within you suggests you stop for a moment, promising that you can return back to work and do a better job if only you take a small break. The beast bares it’s fangs, reminding the monster that your current situation was caused by its persuasions to sleep more. In frustration the monster replies heatedly to the beast, making points referring to  underproductivity caused by lack of energy and pain which could be cured with a little rest. As you listen, you attempt with all your will power to wade through the flood of conflicting ideas and desires. More compromises; the battle is won by no one, and there’s still much work to do, and little time to do it. The feelings of despair and ideas that your mistakes are irreparable dissolve as your head clears again with the added nutrition and five minutes to mull over your plan to accomplish the tasks that wait in the immediate future.

As the hour grows late and the deadlines draw near, the war between the monster and the beast grow, causing your desires and decisions to shift and tremble. The night walks on and he waits for no one, apathetic of  battles won or  battles lost, the casualties of unfinished work or unattended needs litter his wake. The morning will arise and the war may be over, and only you can decide who will surrender and who will succeed.

There is admiration for those who have joined forces only  with the beast. They leave the monster at home, they are those that create lasting difference in the world, the ones who find cures, or stay up all night to make a discovery that could change the way everyone looks at the world. There’s also those who only listen to the monster, who live out their lives only doing that which makes them feel happy; those who spend their time around family and friends, and only working to supply what is needed to sustain life. Which is the best choice; or is there a best choice? The choice is ours at every moment;  to choose discipline and work or joy in the moment. Which will you hold to have more beauty monster or the beast?