Spoiler Alert for Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children.
I recently, somewhat accidentally, finished Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. I say ‘somewhat accidentally’ because while I did select and start the book (and then couldn’t put it down), I hadn’t realized it was a YA horror novel. Having an exceedingly overactive imagination, I do not normally read horror novels or watch scary movies. The few I have watched or read made such an indelible impression as to leave me with nightmares more than ten years later!
Part of the premise of the book, however, gave me a pause. The protagonist, Jacob, can see monsters invisible to everyone else. In the book, this turns out to be an enormously helpful gift.
In real life, it made me think of my anxiety issues. I’ve spent years ‘seeing’ monsters such as illness, job loss and unexpected tragedies, trying to dodge them, afraid of their presence in an outsize way, far beyond simply doing the best I can to plan and minimize the impact in real ways – then moving on.
A confluence of circumstances: several tragedies touching friends or acquaintances, some minor testing E is to undergo in the next couple of weeks, an unexpected package that was very much appreciated but bittersweet that arrived in the mail all came together and threw me a bit sideways. I could see the monsters circling the periphery, the place they inevitably dwell around all human lives. I found myself terrified, over and above anything that was warranted, clinging to both Arthur and E, realizing how easy it is to lose those we love. There was nothing I could do to prevent the terrible randomness of life, and I felt it keenly. There is no one who can promise me E will live to old age and be happy. There is no one who can promise me that there won’t be more sadness, more bone-deep disappointment, or more miscarriages. There is no one who can tell me that I won’t have to endure another senseless death of someone I love.
It’s not a gift, that kind of sight. No matter how well you plan or hide, sometimes, the monsters slip through. There’s no preventing it. Seeing them and noting their presence constantly only makes it difficult to live.
In the end, the only thing I know is that I get the privilege of loving and living right now. Today, we’re okay. The monsters can go to h*ll.
If you want to read more Microblog Mondays, please go to Stirrup Queens’ blog and check it out. Thank you to Mel for originating and hosting!