The Monster Shield

Metaphorical Narrative

Picture a child walking through a quiet field. The sky is calm, the path is clear, but beside them an adult leans down and whispers: “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The child looks around—nothing seems threatening. But then the adult adds, “Out there, monsters wait.”

Suddenly every tree shadow looks sharp, every breeze feels hostile. The world becomes terrifying, not because danger exists, but because someone declared it so. The “protector” becomes the architect of fear.

And then comes the second layer of the contract: “You are safe if I approve your safety.” Each step becomes dependent on their nod, their seal of permission. Safety is no longer your birthright—it’s a loan you must wait to be granted. The shield becomes both leash and law.

But one day, the child grows. They step into the same field, notice the silence, the breeze, the light. No monsters. Just life. The shield was never safety—it was theatre. And the approval stamp was never real—it was a trick to hold power.

Core Insight

Your nervous system was taught to tether safety to two illusions:

1. The invention of monsters.
2. The conditional approval of someone else.

Both robbed you of sovereignty. Both kept safety outside of you.

The truth: no monster, no approval stamp, no borrowed shield is required. Real safety is internal, sovereign, unrevokable.

Saturday Experiment

1. Recall a moment when you felt “safe” only because someone allowed it.
2. Ask: Did the monster actually exist, or was it manufactured?
3. Stand up, breathe, and declare: “My safety is not approved. It is mine.”
4. Take one small action today without waiting for permission—something that proves safety lives in you.

Sunday Reflection

• Who first made you believe safety required their signature?
• What happens in your body when you imagine tearing up that approval seal?
• How does it feel to walk into the field, no shield, no stamp, no monsters—just you, whole and safe?