Freedom from the Onslaught

He defined himself as a shark in all things. He chose it to mean that he excels at all things. Sales. The boardroom. The bedroom.

But I knew the truth. There is another definition: “a rapacious crafty person who takes advantage of others often through usury, extortion, or devious means.” The biblical meaning that some Christians believe are that sharks “represent the manifestation of the devil.” That was the actual kind of shark he was. He came up quietly, unsuspecting and ate up everything in his wake…including me.

I shudder as I remember some of those “devious means.” The way he could hurt me without anyone else knowing a thing. Like I was devoured and nobody even knew I was taken. And I’d be left feeling like it was my fault. It’s the shark’s nature to devour and I, the prey, was there for it anyway. The prey’s fault. The shark goes on. Stealth. Sneaky. Smooth.

I think of all the years wasted trying to heal and tame the shark when the shark was content with its way of life. Sharks are unfeeling. They can adapt and change their appearance to fit their surroundings. He could be the violent, terrifying, man eating shark…ripping you to shreds, make you scared you’d cause an attack if you move in any wrong way to provoke it.

While his pain inflected wasn’t usually the external that left marks and could be seen….but internal…silent to others and leaving everlasting effects. And then…he’d see those wounds…and he’d adapt. He’d change. He’d become what the prey wanted so he could stay and feed a little longer.

Those wounds…they’d scab over-heal just enough that you almost forget they are there. Sure…they’d itch sometimes….sometimes they’d take your breath away from the pain…but ultimately, you’d start to forget. The prey gets comfortable. Feels safe and content again...almost happy. Not realizing the “happiness” is only because the shark isn’t attacking, not because the shark changed it’s ways.

And the shark…he waits. He bides his time. He doesn’t want to spook his prey. He wants his prey happy and content. That is when the wounds taste best, and when they hurt the prey the most. This makes it harder for the prey to get away. He might nibble at those scars again, open the wound….and he’d smell that blood and sometimes he’d rip in. Other times he might cause superficial wounds. After having deep trauma-those slight lacerations were nothing. And it becomes this pattern. It becomes normal…the way of life.

Until you are so scarred you become broken and you start to live life waiting for the next attack. You know it’s going to come. You feel stuck. You feel like you are always in the shark’s territory and you aren’t strong enough to get away.

So…how do you beat a shark? You become a dolphin. You reach out to your pod. Don’t have a pod? Start one…all it takes is to reach out to one and it starts a chain. You may have to lean on some shark ways…and become silent and steadfast on your own. You may have to plan a sneak escape. You may have to adapt like the shark and plan secretly. If you can —swim more with those dolphins than you do the shark. If you can’t, you adapt to what the shark needs in their presence and become who you really are when you are away from him. You become stronger. You learn the shark’s patterns and finally figure out you are the prey. You learn the shark’s traps & how to not fall victim to them anymore. You become smarter and more aware with that distance and the help of your pod. You start to see that you don’t deserve to be prey…that you are so much more than that. You do what you need to do to protect yourself and your pod-no matter what that does to the shark. The shark isn’t worth losing your life for, metaphorically or otherwise. Choose you. I promise it is possible. I know, because I’m a dolphin who did just that.