The ability to do something that frightens one.
Strength in the face of pain or grief.
Where does one find courage within themselves? Do we have a reservoir hiding in the crook of our elbow, behind our knees, in some other hard to reach often missed spot?
I am digging to find it. My hands are raw and torn, the dirt tucked deep under my fingernails. But I am left empty handed. Instead this thumping heart. Instead this nervousness parading through my blood stream. Where is this courage you speak of?
My breath quickened. The sharp intakes of air rushing through my lungs.
Yesterday, I read Jo’s post on ViolenceUnsilenced. I had read it before on Band Back Together. I have met Jo; I have held her super adorable baby girl in my arms and smelled the top of her little blonde head. I have met this person whose courage flowed through her pores.
I read her story again with my breath on pause, my eyes unblinking.
Yesterday, I remembered.
My palms heated and moist were scrubbed furiously. My throat on fire.
Yesterday, I was silent.
Slowly the ache inside of me grew, spreading through me, cracking skin and exposing wounds long since scabbed.
Today, I pressed send.
Felt the air escape from my body, leaving me breathless and hollow.
Today, I did the bravest most frightening thing I’ve ever done.
I told a secret I have held close for most of my life.
Now, we wait.