Not My Circus, Not My Monkeys

Not all chaos is yours to manage. let the monkeys be and keep your peace.

WARNING: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE

It felt as if the monkeys were flying high — screaming, jumping on my bed, laughing at my desperation to control them.

In reality, it was a group chat.

But at 2:13 a.m., with my phone lighting up the dark, it might as well have been a circus tent collapsing over my head.

Messages flying. Misunderstandings multiplying. Tone evaporating. Paragraphs getting longer. Silence getting louder. Then more paragraphs.

And there I was — not even directly involved — heart pounding like it was my turn to get on the stage.

I stumbled out of bed in the middle of the night.

Again.

After another again.

I started the coffee before the 5 a.m. automatic brew even had a chance. My eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. My skin felt dry. And my ass… the perfect rendition of a gluteus MAXIMUS.

I had been eating to numb the noise. Drinking sodas to drown the stress.

All over a conversation and a situation that weren’t even mine, but I had decided to adopt as if they were stray puppies.

I kept typing and deleting.

Typing and deleting.

Please stop before we all lose each other and ourselves.

That’s what I wanted to say.

Not to defend anyone.
Not to win.
Not to be right.

Just to stop the spiral.

I sat on my porch in the cold. Since I live out in a wooded area, I heard wolves or dogs howling in the distance… maybe they were crying, screaming, or maybe they were mating calls.

That’s when it hit me.

Who the fuck cares?

Their squeals had nothing to do with me. Just like the monkeys.

I had decided it was my job to keep them from falling apart. To translate tone. To soften impact. To hold the emotional center when things got loud.

I had confused empathy with responsibility.
Love with intervention.
Strength with endurance.

And my nervous system was paying the price.

The circus didn’t need a ringmaster. It needed adults.

And I needed sleep.

That was the night I realized something uncomfortable: not everything that shakes the room is mine to stabilize.

The monkeys will swing.
Voices will rise.
Group chats will erupt.

And I can care — or not.

The painting came later. A glittered heart. Eyes closed. Blue headphones on. Monkeys bouncing in the background.

Not angry.
Not cold.
Not detached from love.

Just from the chaos.

Not my circus.
Not my monkeys.

Remember dear friends,

Headphones on, drama off.

- Cristina