Post Warrior?

So what does a warrior do when there's no more fight left inside? I am told that it is a good thing that I have no more fight left in me. . . .that all it means is that I am transitioning into a new me. . . .and that's why I don't recognize who I am right now. . . .which is why I have no self-confidence. . . . .and I'm exhausted because I am letting go of the need to fight.

The key is alchemy. . . .or so I have been told.

Maybe this is an inevitable transformation. I don't really know. What I do know is that I can't even begin to imagine a me who isn't a warrior. But maybe that is precisely the problem, because if I honestly can't imagine a post warrior me, then I will only fight the inevitable. . . ..which is exactly what a Warrior self would do.

Fight. Battle. Resist. These are the ways of the Warrior.

This isn't the first time my Warrior self has been confronted. I remember how one of my professors in grad school suggested that perhaps I needed to rest and let other people pick up the fight, that by me always being the one to pick up and carry "the banner" it releases others from needing to do so. My internal response was then (and continues to be), "But if I don't do it, then it won't get done." Hmmmm.....

Without psychoanalyzing the obvious roots of this belief, I need to come to terms with the question this world view begs to be answered: Can I accept the expected chaos that inevitably would ensue if I didn't fight the fight if, in fact, nobody else did pick up the banner?

There is a philosphical belief that we are always living in the best of all possible worlds. It's a very optimistic belief, but one I can't attach myself to, because we do NOT live in the best of all possible worlds. In this world there are children being abused, women being beaten, men being murdered, entire families starving, political corruption, global decay, and the list could go on and on. So, no....I do NOT live in the best of all possible worlds. And someone DOES need to fight for any and all who can't advocate for themselves. But I don't think these are the fights that are exhausting me. . . .

I know what it is. . . .I know exactly what the fight is that has me so exhausted. . . .I just can't say it. To actually say it, out loud, would be to hear a truth so painful, I don't know if I could bear its weight. And I can't walk away from it, either. But which me can't bear the truth? Because it's certainly not my Warrior Self. . . .