Six years ago, something happened. Something big, something ugly. A great big nasty scaly dragon. It bit hard. Really hard. Hard enough (metaphorically) to leave marks.
And I severed its head and proudly displayed it on top of my fireplace. And dammit if a new one grew in it’s place, and here I am, still cutting off heads six years later. Bloody hydras…
Mutter, mutter
But I’m okay with that. I’m okay with that because my sword is still sharp enough to win, to turn in the right direction.
The details don’t matter. Everyone has their own battles, and the nature of the battle is not what is important here. What is important, is that no matter how dark and bloody those battles become, you can beat them. You can win against them. Everyone, every single person, has the ability to change. The ability to look their fears in the eyes and say “you know what, to hell with this, I am not going to live like this anymore.” It won’t make the dragons die necessarily, some things you fight with your whole life, but it will put them under your control.
6 years, and I have astoundingly few claw marks. Yes, I have battle scars…but I am a warrior…and every warrior has scars.
Whatever you are fighting my friends, whatever name your dragon bears…remember this: your story? Is so, so far from over.
Rage on my warriors, rage on.
Insightful and accurate. Thank you for the reminder.