Fighting a Friend

I am filled with anger, sadness, disappointment, and resentment as I return to school. I have become mopey and withdrawn. My wit and goofiness have been replaced with trite comments and silence. No more laughter. No smiles. I am simply a shell housing emptiness.

Gretchen doesn’t like this new version of me, and so she thinks that she can fight it out of me. I feel sorry for her because I know that I am the only happiness in her life, and my happiness has been drained from my soul. I cannot get it back, not even for her. The first opportunity she finds with no adult in the classroom, she pushes me. It hurts my heart, but after feeling Dad’s push that knocks me off of my feet, her tiny 10 year old hands could never hurt my body. When I refuse to push her back, she increases in anger and determination, and she takes a swing as if to punch me. I grab her wrist. With her other hand she attempts another punch, so I grab that wrist with my other hand. She tries to kick me. My only thought is to keep her away from me because I know that if I am provoked into hitting her back, I might hurt her because I am much bigger and stronger than she is.

She has always been very small, and behaves much like a Chihuahua who thinks he is more powerful than he is because he’s never felt the bite of a large dog.

I begin turning circles while holding her wrists, much like a mother would do when playing with her young child.

 

This is my feeble attempt to avoid causing pain to my friend. She attempts several more hits when I stop spinning in circles, but I block them until she feels she has won. She will remind me forever that I didn’t know how to fight, so she won. She doesn’t know that Dad has been teaching me self-defense since I was old enough to make a fist, and Dad’s lessons taught me how to permanently remove any threat. She doesn’t know that if I fought back the way I had been taught, she would feel more pain than she knew was possible.

Gretchen has never had to the feel the physical pain that I endure, and there is no reason for her to ever feel that as far as I am concerned. So I eat crow. I allow her to feel powerful over me because I understand that she desperately needs it, and I’m okay with that.

I may occasionally feel sadness or disappointment, but one feeling that I never feel is powerlessness. Even with the powers that control my life right now, I always remain in touch with the immense power with which I was born as well as that with which I am constantly surrounded through the protection of my God. I have always felt His presence, and I know that He stays with me during my dark times. He always hears me, and He always responds to me. I am thankful for Him because He is both my brook and the rocks that make its music.