I am a warrior. I fight, I battle. I protect, I prevent. I am anger, I am fury... But this warrior has come home from the war and is expected to be the caretaker. The anger that has fueled me my entire life has disapated. The fury pushing me forward to do impossible things is gone.
I have gone from requiring martial arts training to learn control to looking through crochetting patterns with this body's mother. I have gone from being ready for a fight at the drop of a hat to not being able to collect enough anger to do my job.
A friend jokingly said I have gone soft... And it is all too close to home. I talk tough, but my follow through is lacking.
Now I have a strong persecutory alter at my door. He screams and claws on the inside. He causes dizziness and nausea. I feel sick when I eat and nauseous when I don't. I sit in wait, pretending to be waiting out a storm, but really I'm shaking and quaking worried he will never be quiet. What kind of protector am I?
I can't do what needs done. What kind of protector am I?
I am not being strong. What kind of warrior am I?
The warrior is becoming a housewife, and I am terrified.
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