Where is my monkey?
“It’s probably a minor injury,” I thought, tripping over a rock during a morning
workout. Little did I know that this slightest mistake would twist my life and d
rown me into a long-lasting turmoil. I used to be an avid runner. The adrenaline
and endorphin rush during an intense run motivated me to begin my days actively.
The cool morning breeze assured me that I am a productive and healthy individual.
The red tracks on which I ran represented me well; passionate and firm. Sadly,
these words do not describe me anymore. Two years have passed since the rock
had casted its malevolent spell. Its curse directed me towards failed knee
surgeries and a mountain of pain killers. The excitement of waking up has long
been replaced by stress.
It is not just the physical pain but also the psychological torture which creeps
along, that produce stress. Assume that I have a spiteful neighbor who
relentlessly reminds me, what an idiot I am for tarnishing my health. His
continuous harassment will soon take a toll on me. To retaliate, I will never
talk to him again; a simple solution. But what if that neighbor resides in my
head? Whenever I try to get on with life, my mind unleashes a talkative
monkey. It abuses me, making sure that I acknowledge life could have been
much better only if I hadn’t foolishly tripped over a rock. While I eat, the monkey
taunts, “imagine how good this food would taste if you were pain free?” While
I shower, it continues, “look how unfit you’ve gotten. Don’t you wish you could
run again?” Such toxic questioning persists throughout the day, stressing me
immeasurably. Unfortunately, everyone has their own monkey.
The antidote to the above situation is directing one’s attention to the less
fortunate. When the monkey squeaks, I immediately remind myself that
there are numerous people out there who are legless or even paralyzed.
What would they think upon witnessing me complain about having pain when
I walk? They would most likely wish that they could at least walk. Compared
to them, I am extremely lucky. Furthermore, activities become dreadful when
one is unable to sit or stand comfortably for long. Knowing this, the monkey
manifests. However, I lure it back to its cage by thinking that despite the
circumstance, I can still function by myself. I can carry out daily chores, read,
and communicate, albeit painful. There are surprisingly large number of people,
incapable of doing such things independently. The juxtaposition of my present
condition and situations more extreme allows me to conclude that the former
isn’t that unbearable after all.
To clarify, I am never suggesting that one should look down on the less
fortunate. Not at all. My assertion is that gratitude can be attained by being
carefully observant and during this process, stress will be suppressed. You
can be grateful even when engulfed in more misery than preferable, by
understanding that there is at least one person who will weep tears of joy
to be in your miserable position. Are you stressed at work? Well, at least
you are employed, hence competent enough to pay your bills. Are you
dissatisfied with your appearance? Well, at least your face parts and limbs
are intact. There is an endless list of things to complain about but also, to
be grateful for; controlling stress is the act of successfully weighing one’s
mind towards the latter.
Confining the monkey does not mean to simply accept the unpleasant reality
and do nothing about it. Certainly, there are problems that will only settle
when directly tackled. However, problems can only be tackled when the mind
is cleansed from the disturbing noises that only zap away the energy required
to strive ahead. I still wish that I hadn’t tripped over the rock. I really do.
But I do not endlessly linger on this thought anymore. I understand that such
thought is nothing but delicacy for the malicious creature that feasts on my
despair. This creature can be caged but not killed like the inevitable existence
of stress. Recognizing this; when I am stressed, I pause, take a deep breath,
and ask myself, “where is my monkey?”