Sometimes, It Isn't Pretty At All

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I am a quiet, very nice ... respectful person. I look like I am the sweetest person in the world. I am ... all those things. I'm truly one of the most real, caring, loving people in this world. I'm for-real a good person. Until ... I meet with obstacles in my path. Obstacles being going through major illnesses such as non-Hodgkins lymphoma (cancer) ... congestive heart failure ... double bypass heart surgery. I won't even keep on here ... I have experienced so much in this life. I will fight for my Life. Things such as this claim lives all the time. I've had to 'fight battles' with such things. I am still here ... I am a warrior ... to look at ME ... you just wouldn't believe. I don't look the picture of being a warrior. I was born with natural hatred, anger ... yes, I came from a family who hated with a passion, came from the most angry people one would ever meet ... yet ... when one met them ... they'd never suspect. All they would see would be the brightest smiles in the world, the kindest words spoken ... the nicest person ever. All the children grew up to be the same ... their children the same ... thus, it goes on. Truthfully, anger and hatred could have destroyed my life ... ME. As a child I was abused constantly, physically and sexually. I was cussed at, screamed at almost all the time ... I wasn't the only child to suffer these things in my family. All this only stoked the fires of H--- born in each of us. Something was different about ME ... I could forgive someone when they'd just hurt me badly. My family didn't forgive, they were h___bent on getting revenge. Revenge ... as a very young person I learned how to get revenge, to hurt others. I hated so much, I was angry with the whole world. My every day was being tortured by classmates only to come home to ... more of it. No one knew ... I never complained. I found I didn't feel good hurting others ... I was sorry I struck out at them. My anger was like a cobra ready to strike at a moment's notice. I didn't like ME when I was mean to anyone. I took the abuse from one family member until I was fourteen years old. That day was the day I took my first stand with both feet planted firmly on the floor. I would either live or die ... at that point, it no longer mattered ... I was fighting for my life. I carry the scar from that day ... today. It is on the inside of my right arm. A faded, long ... thin scar. Her nails tore into my skin, red blood-drops fell on the old, dirty wooden floor. I remember looking down to see shiny grains of sand in ... my blood. Something ... that is when I found I had my Grandma Alma's fighting spirit ... came up from inside ME ...I stopped fighting to get away ... I turned on my abuser, looked her straight into her eyes, told her that she'd never beat me again because ... the next time I would beat her. Fire from my soul came from my eyes ... she saw I was ready to die to defend myself. She never touched me again ... she never cussed me again. I treated her always with respect. I loved her ... she was one of my aunts who would come to get me when I needed her. The sad thing was ... my family loved, hated at the same time. They had kind, gentle hands that became mean, brutal hands in a moment's notice. I don't think they knew the difference ... yet, I know they did but, chose to ignore it. I loved my family with my Heart no matter ... they were all I had, knew. Everything ... was their way or no way. In my family ... someone had to be 'king of the mountain' ... I'll never forget hearing those words as a child. The strange thing is ... my family was mostly female. They were beautiful ... men loved them. They didn't look like they could be so tough ... but, they were. They had to be fighters to exist in that world I come from ... the world I call ... H___. It took years, many heart-breaking paths/roads to travel to realize I didn't really hate anyone ... I loved everyone. I could forgive. I cared. I had to get away from that world to understand myself. As for the anger ... it is inside ME. It will always be there ... it is a part of me. I have learned for the most part to channel it in a positive way. I am easily frustrated when I am trying to accomplish things and they don't cooperate. I try to fix things when they break ... it upsets me whereas you could probably walk away. When I set out to do something ... I really mean for it to work ... I mean to make things better. I mean to accomplish. Well, I can mean to do things as much as I want ... there comes times I'm a failure. Oh my, I don't like that word ... failure. When I am trying hard to do something and I'm not strong enough for it ... what happens? Instant anger fires up inside me ... depending on how hard, heavy it is for me to manage ... is the amount of anger that comes out. If I find I can't do what I'm working hard to do ... more anger comes out ... some choice words are spoken. If that doesn't work ... I begin fighting to make something work with super strength ... because my anger has become like a furnace ... each time fuel is thrown in ... the brighter, hotter the fire ... the stronger I become. I mean to do what I meant to do. That is when most of the time I can do something ... 'super-human'. I suspect this is what comes out in each of us ... when we save someone from a disaster, save ourselves if someone tries to rob us, hurt us. Nine out of ten times ... I get what I am doing ... done. Hopefully ... no one has seen, heard ME. I would be embarrassed. It wouldn't be a pretty picture. Life is like that when we all struggle ... we have to have something to pull out as our strength inside of us to win our battles with sickness, obstacles in our paths in Life. I chose to take something that I live with, born with ... to give me strength in a positive way when I meet up with negative in my life. I channel my anger in a way to help ME, help others. I call this my ... fighting spirit ... I inherited this from my Grandma Alma ... who was the strongest woman I ever knew. She was paralyzed, sat in a recliner every day of her life fighting to live in the chaos, H---- she had no choice but, to live in. No one knows, but, I do. Oh my, did she have a fighting spirit! When my fighting spirit comes out to help, protect, accomplish moving an obstacle out of my path ... sometimes, it isn't pretty at all. But, it is ... my inner strength, my only way to handle hard things in my life. Sometimes ... it really isn't pretty at all. The good thing is ... when the storm passes ... something is usually fixed, accomplished ... saved.