Beauty the Beast

She slammed her fist into the mirror. It's not like the first time she'd seen it done before. He'd broken the same mirror plenty of times in his fits of rage. The cracks and slivers of the mirror break up the image she can't bare to look at. How did she become this beast of a person? Where was the beauty she once viewed in herself?

She wanted to scream but remembered that she traded away her voice for another chance. Another chance to be the woman he wanted. The woman he craved. Who needs a voice if you have love? Love gives you music on a rainy day to dance to through the streets, it gives you joy that sings from your fingertips from the first time you touch. A voice can be useless. All it's done was get her into trouble anyway.

As she descended the spiral staircase, she looked at her fingertips, the way they barely touched the arm of the banister. She was startled at first, where were her fingernails? She used to love painting them all the colors of the rainbow, just to be her own kind of different. Then the memory surfaced. "Biting your nails isn't normal" he told her. Would she ever be normal? she thought. She screamed as he took out her fingernails as if he was declawing a cat to trap her indoors.

And just like a pet he primped her and groomed her. "You look prettier this way" he said as he drew on more makeup and dyed her hair. Picking out her outfits and picking out her life.

He was being helpful. She used to tell herself. He could save her, she thought. As he took the skin off her shoulders so she couldn't carry any burden. That was helpful. She obviously couldn't carry more anyway. Because every time she tried, she'd cry.
"Why are you so weak?" he asked, as she cried through her pain, her frustration and her agony. He didn't want someone that was weak. So her solution was simple. She replace her eyes with those that couldn't cry. Am I what you want now? Am I good enough now? 

And temporarily she would be. Oh! There would be singing and dancing and enjoying their time together to his hearts content. Until she moved the wrong way and he replaced her feet with wheels. He'd tell a story about the first time they did her makeup and how she enjoyed every minute of it. How dare she say she didn't. "That's not how it was. I remember it." he'd say and soon enough he even replaced her memories with nightmares.

She'd spend her time drawing and writing and speaking in the only way she could. She'd show him what to her was a masterpiece and as he flung it to the floor, he'd scream, "You are not worth it!" He had even managed to douse her passions out like putting out a fire.

She had stood there scrutinizing the mirror shattered from his anger. Her eyes had blackened, her skin transparent. Her voice gone and feet she was no longer able to control. The woman staring back at him was barely a woman at all.

And just then after all these changes and all this time. She was done. She was taking back her life. The life that belonged to him for so long wasn't his. She decided to steal back the parts of herself he had taken.

She searched around the palace for her missing pieces. She found her eyes first. My eyes fill with my emotions. They see beauty and peace. They see monsters and angels, they see love and they see pain. And she replaced the eyes that cry. Because crying may show weakness, but it also makes you strong. She saw her skin and nails next. My skin keeps me together. I need to fight for myself because I am worth more than this. I am beautiful. I am ready to fight back even if no one believes I can. And as she looked for her last missing pieces, she heard the most beautiful sound. A sound she hadn't heard in years. My voice is the only way to be heard. 

She waited until he was asleep and tied him up so he could feel as trapped as she had become. She pitied him because if he had turned her into a monster, what was he? And just like that she left him there trapped and alone. While she had all the freedoms in the world and even more fight than she knew she was capable of.  

Find another room

If you ever find you are the most talented person in the room. You need to find another room."

This explains so much to me. While I ran the preschool, I was the best, I pushed myself but I remained the best. I brought people up but I struggled bringing myself up more. I capped myself because I had no one better than me. My minimum was the best there was. (That's not saying I worked my minimum. God knows I didn't.) But the times the preschool grew were the times I went out to learn more than I already knew. When I reached out to other teachers, when I brought other teachers in, when I explored the internet to figure out what my next steps should be. If I hadn't given it my all, it would have been good. But by giving it my all it was great. 

Also by being the best in the room and constantly upping your expectations, its draining. Go to other rooms to make your job easier. It's so much easier to learn from someone in front of you, someone you can talk to, ask, get advice from. Go to other rooms so that you can work on other things. 

Instead of giving your all to one thing.

The cost of being great at running a preschool was that I lost my writing and my creativity. 

My version of Steal like an Artist: Point 10

Creativity is Subtraction.

I brought this up a bit already too. I like writing because I leave out the lesson. The lesson is up for you to discover. It doesn't have to be my lesson. It can be your own. 

Creativity blossoms in boredom. When there is nothing, you can create everything. 

Creativity starts with no one. But it can create someone.

Creativity doesn't start with an idea. It brings one to life. 

Creativity in so many ways isn't what you have or who you are or what you did. Creativity needs less in order to be so much more. 

My version of Steal like an Artist: Point 9

Be Boring. 

I have always said that preschool murdered my creativity. And I believe that. I was working so hard at being wonderful at that, that I gave it too much. And what I gave it was my time, my effort, my everything. I gave it my writing, my hobby, my passion. 

"Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work." This is a lesson I need to learn. I can't give everything 100%. So I need to figure out what percentages to give what. And to be honest, in a lot of ways I commit and other parts of my life suffer. 

Also, I need a calendar so I can write down my success. A checkmark goes so far. I need this for working out and for writing. I need this to make myself do more and do it consistently. I made this group for that. Now I need to do it every day. 

This one also said to get a log book. Just to write down random occurrences throughout the day. So you have the memories you will remember later. I used to do this a lot too. But I need to go back and do that. 

Of all the points in the book, this is the one I suck at the most. I suck at being boring and I need to fix it. 

Because I am a better writer (and a better person) if I am bored sometimes. 

Creativity blossoms in boredom. It makes you create a more fulfilling world around you. Maybe this is why creativity is so often dead in our society. It is suffocated by the countless and meaningless banter of social media.