I caught a child molester once. As soon as I could, I reported him to the authorities. Luck, or more likely, fate had it that he showed up in my church the day after I encountered him, which made catching him all the more easy. But before I initially reported him, I took it upon myself to confront him. I boldly stepped up to him, stared into his eyes with the most stern look that I could muster, and told him that I knew he was up to no good. His meek defense confirmed only what I already knew to be right. So before I walked away, I pointed a finger at him and warned that I would be watching him, keeping my eye on his every move. I was eleven.
How does a woman with these instincts and such strength, only matured throughout the years with training grounds like West Point and Army combat, find love? Shouldn’t love be equal, my mate being my match, equally strong to not only inspire me to continue rescuing the world, but also to rescue me? Just because I am capable of walking into a fight in a foreign city and encourage the aggressors to stop doesn’t mean that I don’t yearn to return to the sanctuary of a warm embrace, promising safety and protection from the very evil that I am drawn to. Warriors need love too.
Sadly, the events that have shaped my life lead me to believe that I must choose between my mission and love. And I am weary, burdened from taking with me into every fight my broken heart that has been shattered more times than any human should be capable of repairing on their own. Sometimes I envy the very people I mock for not sacrificing to something larger than themselves and their immediate environment, and being spared the inherent pain that comes with risking everything. But I don’t know how else to live. How can someone possibly love me enough? Penetrate the vicious abandonment and simultaneously love me for the warrior and woman that I am. Prepare me for battle, fight by my side, allow me to be victorious, and then bask in my femininity – touch me to the core and send my body, mind and heart into the deepest levels of pleasure.
This is what I want – what I yearn for – every moment I take the breath that life gives me. And even in my darkest moments, when I am overcome with the grief of all of my failures and disappointments, I still hope. I still dream. I want more than anything to believe in love.