My struggle was born with me. I cannot remember a day when I didn't have some anger management problem to deal with. That's what I like to call it at least, it makes me feel stronger for some reason. Having always heard some talk about my grandfather having indigenous blood, combined with my love and admiration for nature, I no doubt have believed I had the courage and strength of the natives of the Americas. I grew up feeling invincible. For the most part, I wasn't given a limit as to how I should see myself and how I should allow the world to shape my own view of who I am. I grew up with as much confidence and fierceness as a lion hunting for an easy prey. However, as the events in my life would unfold into what would become my destiny and mission, I started to hear about a chink in my armor.
I'm not sure at what point we start believing what other people tell us about ourselves. Until then, no one told me anything, at least, that I can recall. Then started the comments. Vulnerability appeared, but something visceral kept pushing forward. The naysayers, which are usually the closest people to you, affected my self vision and in turn my rate of progress. But in the end, or shall I say: at this point which is really the beginning, my rate of progress has caught back up to the original one.
Rewind a bit. As a little girl, I watched a movie that stayed with me for some reason or another. You know, some things hit you like a brick wall and leave a mark forever. It made me think, most likely because I've always been interested in the ultimate subject of the movie: Judgement Day. As the sequels came and went, I found myself relating to the main protagonist of the movie: a woman who in the first movie was pregnant with a child, and was constantly in danger of being killed. It doesn't sound good, but I promise it has a lot of relevance. The sequels show her as a trained modern warrior, fighting for her life and the life of her now teenage son, and her son finding out he's the guy who's going to save the day in the last day. So what's my point? This woman gave her life to ensure that her son would stay alive no matter what. She taught him and prepared him to be ready for unforeseen attacks in the present and future, and....how to fight.
met·a·mor·pho·sis
[met-uh-mawr-fuh-sis]
1.Biology . a profound change in form from one stage to the next in the life history of an organism, as from thecaterpillar to the pupa and from the pupa to the adult butterfly. Compare complete metamorphosis. (dictionary.com)
I've been metamorphosing at a faster speed in the last three years. The main reason is because in the last four years I have become a mother. The second main reason is that three years ago we lost my mother in law to cancer. I've never heard so many people eulogize someone to the extent that it was done to Helen. I knew I had lost an amazing relative, but after the days of her passing an immense outpouring of love, visits, and service towards her family proved how much she was loved and admired. I took her death hard. Maybe because it resembled so much the death of my grandfather to cancer, and my being far away. In the months that proceed her death, a dear friend suggested a book for me to read. That book was not suggested to me at random, I don't believe in randomness unless they have to do with physics, or mathematics.
That's when my metamorphosis started. My son, the death of my mother in law, the book I read, it all triggered the metamorphosis. Although it has been very welcomed, my changes have not been without growing pains, or fights. Fighting is so innate to me. Remember, I've been fighting with something or for something since I was a zygote. At that point in my developmental stage I was probably just fighting for life! Life. Actually, I've been fighting for life a lot longer than that. I've been fighting for eternity and in favor of eternity. And that's why I'm restarting my blog, so I can keep fighting. You see, it'll started with a plan....
