Fight On, Fighter
I was there on the day that you were changed
You were scared and prepared for the heartbreak
Everything you knew faded out of view
Stole a piece of youIf I could, oh, I would be a hero
Be the one who would take all the arrows
Save you from the pain, carry all the weight
But I know that you’re braveFight on, fighter
Don’t let anyone steal your fire
Fight on, fighter
The Spirit is alive inside ya, yeah There’s a part that you hold that you lock down
Let it breathe, give it wings, set it free now
Time to make ya walk, break the prison bars
Show them who you areFight on, fighter
Don’t let anyone steal your fire
Fight on, fighter
The Spirit is alive inside ya, yeahStronger than you than you ever thought
I know you’re stronger
Braver than you were before
You know…
A week and a half ago, I wrote about a song that touched my soul. Once again, I found a song that describes how I’m feeling right now.
I feel as though I’m fighting. I’m fighting the waves of grief. I’m fighting for my story to be heard. I’m fighting with the guilt I have about not listening to my mom when she said, “Don’t come around.” I’m fighting with the image of seeing my mom dead in her apartment.
I’m fighting with people telling me that I need to get over it and move on. It’s not your mother and it’s not your story. You have never walked in my shoes. You don’t know how far I’ve come in order to be the person I am today.
I interpret the I as being God. He was there with me on the morning that my life changed. My life and soul was changed forever in that frozen moment of time.
It’s as though God is telling me that I can’t stop fighting no matter what is happening in my life. He’ll be there along side me as I attempt to tell my story. Whether people are receptive to receive it, well that is up to them. It’s not their place to tell me not to tell it. It’s the prison I’ve had built up around me for many years. It’s memories that have long been suppressed. People have been stealing my fire for many years not allowing me to break free from these prison bars that surround me.
Yes, I have forgiven my father for what he did to me. However, once my mom died so many of those feelings came back to the surface. Think of a boat that had wrecked and has been down at the bottom of the ocean. Suddenly some of the wreckage breaks free and comes to the surface. That’s what happened to me when my mom died.
I’ve got to work on fighting to forgive my mom and even myself. It’s going to be a long process. It’s not going to be easy. However, during the process I hope I can inspire other people.
Stay kind!
Believe in the Magic Traci Diary 