resilient fragility
Tiny cracks in glass
spread like wild fire. Still
failed my inspection.
Today, I went into battle.
I faced my fear like those that have entered this realm before me, with little idea of what was to come. My face and hair and body were clean and it felt like my only sense of decision making I was going to do today. It was safe, familiar, a feeling that could shatter in an instant if the right steps aren’t taken. I found myself slightly ill-prepared like a soldier low on rations, but war does not stop to feed the hungry when it benefits from demise, so I trudged forward with a bellyache.
A train of frustration passed quickly in front of me, and then came my arrival, strapping Boots of Heightened Confidence to my frame but still feeling the slouch in my posture. Using insecurities to my advantage may seem petty until it’s my best defense against an egotistical man. To tower even a single inch above them grants a certain power they will never feel themselves until they accept that they look great in heels.
Stepping towards the gates of my own personal hell gives way to shaky breaths and running thoughts. I have been Feeling My Feelings (without proper therapy and medication) and The Feelings have been… intense lately, to say the least. This fight was truly going to be no less stressful than before. I knew what weapons I would be going in with, but what about my opposition? What will matter in the slaughter? What will be dismissed to the trenches? Looking back, I forgive myself for not asking for more but at least not getting LESS than what I came in with. When you’re fighting within a broken system, sometimes you have to take what you can get in small doses; lost the battle, win the war, and hold the line steady when it matters most.
The energy held in this threshold emphasizes that I am no longer in control. “Let go, Let God” as they say, and I can only hope that my God is just and fair. I’ve only just begun, having to remind myself of the long game in self realization. I will get the retribution I rightfully deserve for my patience and resilience, one day. The only way to guarantee that I see that day is keeping my battle plans close to heart, taking care of my front line and repairing the barriers that have shifted and crumbled, but only slightly. I have to trust that my consistency out weights the volatility of it all and, with the right tools he, too, will win his battle.
I am quiet but my heart beats in my ears as I wait, patiently, in the florescence of bureaucracy. There are others here, too, for different reasons than I but still with the same goal of triumph and protection. Do they fight their battles like I do, with full defensive lines making sure no enemy surpasses them? If not, how can they guarantee their own safety? I can’t ponder too long over others conflicts or I end up losing sight over my own.
Our names are called and I am faced with the unfortunate truth that my circumstances have drastically changed: I am no longer here for the scuffle I had prepared for. My carefully curated war path was blocked by a gentle, though unfamiliar, face unaware of tricks and venom from previous battles. Maybe it was just a coincidence, though I can’t help but wonder if the change was planned and purposeful. This battle is not bloody or filled with battle cries like I thought it would be, but silent and swift, allowing atrocities to be pushed aside for more pressing matters and, eventually, forgotten all together. Unfortunately, this is a common occurrence here but I can’t dwell on the dangers of an active minefield while I’ve still got a grenade in my hand.
There are no weapons drawn or evidence displayed and we are moving at record pace to finish negotiations. There are nods of agreement all around as I am heading toward a path I am not ready to venture. Pain sliced into me with a blade I’ve become all too familiar with: stinging with uncertainty and lingering anger. I let myself feel what I needed for right now then moved it aside, as there is work to do now that I have to let go in some spaces.
Battles will continue, but differently as time moves, as birthdays come and go. My next arena will not be as inconsistent or careless, at least I hope not, and a silver lining traces itself around my battle scars. Do the folks that I sat with in that realm also trace the patterns formed from their discordancy? I hope my misery isn’t empathetic but it’s nice to think that maybe, for once, I wasn’t the only one crying in her car after all was said and done.
I am not my trauma, or what I have been through, but today I am feeling the weight of what it means to be a survivor. I have a lot of work ahead of me that lays itself out in the stars and clarity will come when it needs to, when it’s ready. Letting go is so hard but a tight grip on anything can result in the exact opposite of what you expect: losing complete control.
From here, let me practice what I preach: adjust your expectations. Everything is going to be okay… I’ll end up right where I should be, as I do every time. Just have to stay focused.
Sunset from another day, reflecting on the future