Demons

Wenda at Daring to Write got me thinking about personal demons.

I realize that the older I get, the fewer my demons. At least it seems so. The demons of my youth are no longer the sweaty-nightmare inducing creatures they once were.

Perhaps it's my perception of them that's changed. Things I thought were earth-shatteringly important in my twenties and thirties barely register a blip on my concern meter now. The related demons have, likewise, faded in importance.

I'm not saying they're completely gone. Some are like pesky salesmen. Every so often, they knock on my door to see if I'll buy into their pitch. I get rid of them with a firm, "no thanks" and refuse to let them in the house for coffee. Sometimes, I have to slam the door in their face. Others are like co-workers you don't particularly like. I concede grudging co-existence for the sake of everyone's sanity, but it's never a completely comfortable relationship.

They're slowly fading or maybe morphing into ghostlets of their former selves - annoyances rather than challenges. In times of stress, they try to reassert themselves, but with less and less success.

Although, there's still that ONE demon that jumps out at me when I least expect. I'm working on it.