Darcy Branwyn

There’d been a time when I thought I was like a turtle. Every time I stuck my head out of my shell I found five women waiting with two by fours ready to bash my skull in.

A lovely picture, I know, but it seriously felt that way.

Am I angry, bitter or resentful toward them? No. At least not any more. I know they were just doing their thing, what they understood to be the way the world works. They couldn’t let me have a voice, an opinion, or allow me to succeed in anything right before their eyes because they believed that it would diminish them in some way. With that mind-set, who could blame them?

One could even argue that I was the problem, and to some degree I was. I’m not much of a fighter. I like to believe that there’s enough for everyone and we don’t need to act like hungry wolves. But in a world were humans expect to destroy each other (whether they admit to it or not) being and idealist can stunt your progress in life.

I’m still not much of a fighter, and probably never will be. I have other things I rather put my energy into, but I no longer back down either. This turtle no longer pulls back into her shell for protection. Instead she puts a f*cking helmet on and keeps on going. They can swing all they want, I don’t care. I have found that not caring gets rid of over half of the swings in the first place. Turns out a lot of people are no longer interested when they realize that they can’t affect you anyway. The few that are left must be stubborn, or desperate, or something, I don’t know. Maybe swinging at thin air makes them feel slightly better about themselves. I have no idea, and it doesn’t matter anyway. 

I just do my own thing, keep my head down a lot, and wear my helmet every day, while still hoping for a better world where people can support each other rather than destroy. 😎