The Bigger Monster Lie

Metaphorical Narrative

The script was written long before you were born:
If you don’t become the bigger monster, the smaller one will be ambushed.

It played out in living rooms, in slammed doors, in tense dinners.
Men carried it like armor, women carried the bruises of its weight, children grew up believing that survival meant aggression.

But the truth is clearer now: the “bigger monster” rule was never protection. It was the fuel of endless fights. Everyone loses when fear sets the rules.

Picture this: two shadows circling, each trying to out-size the other. You step into the scene, but instead of growing fangs, you set down the torch. The shadows vanish. No one to fight. No one to prove.

The ambush never comes — because the game ends when you refuse to play.

Core Insight

Violence survives by convincing people it’s the only defense.
But peace is not weakness. Refusing to escalate is not surrender — it is sovereignty.

The lineage that told you to brace for ambush was wrong.
Breaking the chain means refusing to become a bigger monster just to avoid being someone else’s prey.

Saturday Experiment

• Spot the script. Notice when your body tenses as if you must out-prove, out-fight, or out-shout.
• Exit the arena. Instead of matching, choose stillness, quiet, or a calm “no.”
• Anchor peace. Write or speak aloud: “The ambush ends with me.”

Sunday Reflection

• When have I felt the pressure to become “the bigger monster”?
• How has that script shaped my definition of strength?
• What new definition of strength do I want to hand down instead?