This is a never-posted oldie, but it was the start of the story that’s currently underway. I didn’t want to post in real-time, because what if it went nowhere? What if I failed? What if, what if, what if?? But I don’t care anymore. I’ll catch you up, and then we can watch it unravel together. We’re going back to June 2013 here. It’s similar to some of the posts I’ve published before, but for some reason I felt much more wary of posting this one in particular. Since it’s the true beginning I didn’t want to leave it out, so I do apologize if it feels repetitive. . . but so began the journey.
Brave is something I have to force onto myself, like forcing a bath on a 5-year-old boy.
You must do it. You have to do it to keep yourself healthy and strong and growing.
But, after all my 30+ years, and plenty of opportunities to practice at it, I still stink at “brave”.
I wear cowardice like an old comfortable sweatshirt. It’s my habit, and it’s way easier.
Keeping the pot smooth and unstirred? Shrinking from conflict? Ahhh. My specialties. Those are my secret hiding places. They are where I can breathe. How deep, exactly? Hmm. Good question. Continue reading →