My own internal strength

"Get.... the.... hell.... off.... of ....me....!!!" I yell, but it's muffled. I've been body slammed by the same pissed off demon that was attacked by Consuela on my balcony earlier. The asshole has pinned me from behind, and I'm face first on the ground. Most of the air has been knocked out of my lungs and my chin took a hard scrape on the sidewalk; but I know it's him -- I can smell Pledge.

I try to donkey kick him in his demon nuts, but I don't have quite the angle -- my legs are too short. It's nearly impossible to try and kick backwards -- especially when your torso is pressed to the ground. This must look absolutely ridiculous to anyone walking down the street. Not everyone can see their demons; and so, to the naked eye I'm lying here squirming and struggling with myself.

"Get the FUCK OFFFFF of MEEEE!" I scream. The smell of Pledge is making me want to gag, like really bad old lady perfume that you sometimes smell when you go bargain shopping in the ladies clothing section of thrift stores.

My chin is really starting to sting from the fall. I writhe and struggle for a few more minutes but it's pointless. I'm no match for this pissed off demon. And so, I stop struggling.

Life was so much easier when I playing Barbies on my front veranda. Part of me wishes I was there right now; bossing my sister and all the other little kids around -- and making sure that Barbie's world is exactly how I'd want it to be. I'd give each of them their roles, and even though we had 18 or so Barbies to play with -- only my Barbie could be the 'real' Barbie that day. The rest of the little girls would have to be a neighbor with a different name like Suzy, or Jan. It was all quite meticulous. Organized. Controlled. And, even though they begrudged their allotted role in my little scenario during afternoon playtime; they acquiesced -- as all three year olds do when a much bigger and smarter 8 year old is in their presence. I was in charge. And they had to listen to me if they wanted to play.

If only we had that same control over our own lives. I wonder if that need for control has anything to do with downward spirals? I mean, as a child you're led to believe that you can be anything you want to. Throw on a discarded shawl from your grandmother's closet and instantly you're an enchanted Princess. Wanna be a famous rock star? Simply grab the nearest hairbrush and your mother's lipstick, and you can be. It was simple. Plausible. Obtainable.

Then one day, you grow up and the world begins to make your dreams much harder to achieve than simply fantasizing about them. You go through the turbulent rigors of self-doubt; and that's where many of us hang our hat. We let our heart's true desires wither and die because the act of making them happen is a lot more tedious than we ever imagined it to be -- but that doesn't mean it's impossible.

And then there's the demons. The soul sucking parasites of the third dimension who feed off of us humans because we love to think badly of ourselves -- because life is a lot harder than we ever imagined it could be as a child. Because responsibilities suck. And hard work doesn't always reap rewards right away. And if they do; there's always an obstacle. A demon that has nothing better to do than torment you -- or someone who could possibly be in a position to help you.

Take this morning for instance. Being miraculously demon free for a change; I offer a little kindness to someone riddled with demons. And now...now, I have that monkey on my back. A big fat, Pledge-soaked monkey with an appetite for revenge and a wing span synonymous to an airbus.

"GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!!!!!!" I yell one more time and manage to turn my head a little more. I now have partial vision through my right eye. I can see it's nasty rows of fangs ~ quite similar to a creature that would show up in a James Cameron type of movie. I wonder if James Cameron had a hard time battling his demons; and that of others as well?

That's the real kicker -- just when you think you have your own demons under control, you have to deal with the back lash of other people's crap.

"It's not going to work" I say calmly to the demon. "You can't scare me into being afraid of you. Annoyed, yes. Afraid ,never. I've dealt with this shit already. And, well -- sorry you had your ass kicked by a fat little midget from Nicaragua; but the fact of the matter is...you have NO REAL POWER OVER ME."

I double-check my wrist with my eye that has a partial view. There's no black cord. I didn't think he would be able to latch on to me -- I'm pretty sure at this point in my personal journey I'm too strong for that. He has no bondage over me.

Once confirming that none of this is real ~ because my will is a lot stronger than anything negative could ever be...I simply stand; and flick him off my shoulder like a little fleck of dandruff. Sure -- it seems physically impossible. The demon is almost 18 times the size of me. But, he has no real power.

And just to prove just how strong I am, I take in a deep breath and blow a strong stream of air in his direction -- and cause him to tumble backwards towards the Earth's atmosphere. Once I can no longer see him, I dust myself off and skip along home.

I just realized that the fear of what something might be able to do to you is more paralyzing than the actuality of the situation. And that's why the demon -- with all the wraths of hell, is powerless against me. What he's capable of doing, and what I'll allow him to do -- are two very different things.

And so I smile, because I've also just realized my own internal strength. The scrape on my chin hurts like you wouldn't believe --but it was a small price to pay; and well worth it.

"Oooh! A quarter!" I squeal, and pick it up off the ground. I think I'll give this one to Consuela.