Be Aggressive


bel·li·cose /ˈbeliˌkōs/

Adjective Demonstrating aggression and willingness to fight.

Aggression isn’t a trait I am inclined towards. Conflict frightens me. I hate doing irreparable damage with my words. I am not saying that I’ve never done it. Quite the opposite, I say the wrong thing a lot.

I am afraid of the notion of physically defending myself. I don’t want to fight with my fists or with my legs. I don’t want to fight with people because I don’t really have it in me. I’m afraid of being hurt, and fully believe that hurting others is only an invitation for that. I’ve had to learn the power of apologies and prayed many prayers for forgiveness of which I knew I wasn’t deserving.

I just hate fighting, and my passivity has proven to be a tremendous disadvantage in my corner.

I will admit that I’m an advocate. Standing up for other people and the things that I believe in is deeply engrained within me. I believe in the people that I love. If you’ve managed to earn my trust, respect and efforts to truly love you (beyond just feeling loving towards you) then I am extremely loyal. I will stand up to people that otherwise intimidate me in order to stand up for those that I love.

I do my best to guard the darlings that I nanny from the harshness of the world by fighting for their gentle spirits and their curious minds. I encourage them even when it seems like a frivolous endeavor.

But I’m pretty inclined to turn into a turtle if I am emotionally attacked. I don’t know the paradigm shift for myself, but something happened where I allowed people to walk all over me. I invited the role as a doormat for some people. There seemed to be an ease to throw my hands up in surrender. Rather than proudly don gloves to fight in my corner of the ring, I tend to stand with my cheek waiting to take the blow.

And, most tragically, I allowed myself to cower and retreat rather than fight ferociously against the forces of depression. Rather than rise up to meet everything shoving to get an opportunity to oppress, I found myself in submission.

These days have been filled with revelations of shortcomings. Not so that I can wallow in self-pity. But in hopes that I would be bellicose. In the strong drive to rally against things hindering me, I want to declare myself a fighter.

I want to treat myself with the same loyalty that I treat those around me. I want to rise up to my own defense, because there is only one me and that’s all that there will ever be.


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