Asking the Monsters to Go Away

I had a nightmare last night.

Not just a fleeting bad dream, but the kind that wraps its fingers around your chest and squeezes. The kind that jolts you awake in the dark hours, heart pounding, eyes wide, unsure if what you saw was real or imagined. It was vivid, raw—filled with monsters I couldn’t outrun. And though I know they weren’t real, the fear they left behind still lingers like smoke in my lungs.

I know why they came.

They came because I’m stretched too thin. Because the weight of everything I carry—work deadlines, responsibilities, the unrelenting pressure of being a caregiver to someone I love so fiercely—has crept its way into my dreams. My body is tired. My soul even more so. And when I finally close my eyes, my mind doesn’t rest; it replays every fear, every burden, and turns them into monsters with sharp teeth.

But today, I am saying this with intention:

Monsters, go away.

You are not welcome here.
Not in my dreams, not in my waking hours, not in the spaces I’m trying so hard to protect. I am asking life’s demands, with all their noise and chaos, to take a hike—just for a moment. Just long enough for me to breathe without bracing. Long enough to feel human again.

Because even warriors need rest. Even those who keep smiling through the storm need stillness. And I am tired. Tired of feeling like I’m always behind. Tired of being strong when my heart just wants to cry. Tired of carrying things no one else seems to see.

I need a moment of peace. A quiet hour where no one needs anything from me. A stretch of sky untouched by worry. A breath that doesn't hurt.

So if you're listening, universe, I’m asking for just that—a pause. A sliver of light. A gentle evening without fear. Let me sip my coffee slowly. Let the phone stay silent. Let his body stay calm. Let the world stop spinning so fast. Let me feel like myself again—not the stressed, scared, stretched-too-thin version, but the real me beneath it all.

Let me believe—if only for a little while—that the monsters are gone, and that peace is possible.

Even if it’s only for a moment.
Even if it’s only today.

It will be enough.