The Irony of It All

OK.  It’s been a day.  I’ve had some time to process the event.  And, more than anything else, I’m angry.  I’m angry some random person, through one random act of aggression, has been able to affect my life in any way.  I hate that my stomach is still in knots.  I hate that I’m frightened.  I hate that I’ve started looking over my shoulder when I’m walking somewhere, suspicious of those around me.  It’s not fair.  One jerk, with no regard for others, shouldn’t be allowed to alter my outlook on life.  He shouldn’t have the power to change me, to shatter my sense of security.  But, like it or not, that is exactly what he’s done.  This incident has altered my view of the world, making me feel more vulnerable.  But, ironically, it’s also made me feel stronger, more confident in myself.  I had often wondered how I would react if I were ever attacked.  Now I know.  I reacted exactly as I had hoped.  I instinctively stood up for myself and fought back.  I didn’t let him get the upper hand (or my iPod).  Now I just need to work up the confidence to get out and run again, as I refuse to let him take that pleasure away.  I refuse to let him have any more influence over my life.  So, tomorrow morning, I will lace up my trusty running shoes and hit the pavement.  I may be a little more leery of others, but I will be out there, doing what I love.