I will not fight

 Norsk versjon her / Norwegian version here

Written in December 2012, 

translated now as a continuation of «A strange anniversary»

I have to write this before I can move on.

And it is scary to write about.

Because …? The reason is not important.

I  do not want to. That is important.

I’m doing it anyway. That is important.

I will not fight. That is important.

I will not fight in The Help Services, will not fight in the rest of my life.

That is very important.

I will not fight.

I will not discuss who is right or wrong.

That is not an important discussion.

I do not want to be in a win/lose situation.

Situations like that are very unimportant

for someone who does not want to win, and I do not.

I will not talk about right of definition.

That is not important.

It does not fill a need in me.

What is important?

Needs are important.

And I have needs.

I have …

A need to be outside the definition rights box.

A need to be somewhere else.

A place where everyone has the right to own their their stories

and no one has the right to invade the story of another.

I have a need to notice when others invade my story.

A need for solid ground under my feet.

A place to stand.

Give me a fixed point, and I will move the world?

No.

I do not want to move the world. That is not important.

What is important? To move myself.

Move into the shadows, into the white patches on the map.

Notice when I do not stand on solid ground.

A need to straighten my back, lift my head 

and take my share of space in the world.

Not more space than others, not less space than others.

As much space as others have the right to take.

I have a need to notice when others take my space

and make it impossible for me to straighten my back and lift my head.

I have a need to own.

Own what I think, own my opinions, own what I know,

own what my senses tell me, own my emotions, own what I do.

A need to notice. Notice when it is impossible to own

what I know, what my senses tell me, my emotions, my actions.

Sometimes, certainly not always, I have a need to speak out:

«There is not room for all of me here.»

«My story is being invaded.»

Often it is enough to notice,

Mark it on my life map,

so that the map matches the terrain.

And maybe, most of all, I have a need to notice when others

make it a problem that I

take my share of space, straighten my back, lift my head,

and tell my story. Because:

I need to protect my integrity. My mental skin.

Without that, I cannot live.

And I have a need to live.

A need to know that we all have a need to live.