Chaos. The new and the old. Storming wildly, each claiming its ownership in battle. The bully now stands naked. Weakening but still standing. Still able to stun and paralyze. But after a lifetime of not seeing, my vision is beginning to clear.The internal bully has been asked to get off the couch, dump out its beer and leave.
In desperation it called in its buddies. Suddenly they were appearing from everywhere, the external bullies in full force in new and in familiar human faces. But still the same facade. Whether shaming, scolding, falsely blaming, scapegoating, acting superior, or retaliating, it is called by the same name. The bully.
My voice has been silent and weak. But as the morning light appears, it stretches, and makes small murmurings. It is awakening to this bully that has held me hostage since infancy. Power words are starting to form, speaking the truth, standing tall in the truth even when body is trembling. The ‘nice person’ image that has been my cowering place, is crumbling away. The new, the genuine, the spontaneous rebel is emerging.