The Wimp Waves White


Today I deleted the collection of e-mails that began at the beginning of this summer. I’ve prevented myself from lingering around his facebook page dozens of times today, but I still feel bogged down with this kind of hopeless feeling that the courage I’ve borrowed from best friends and from God won’t last long enough for me. My courage is only good when it’s layered with donations from other banks of valor—what happens if I need all of it? What do I do when I can’t borrow anymore, because there’s nothing left? When I’ve depleted even the bravest of my friends’ strength?

Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m afraid that…I am a courage moocher.  

I’m the girl who’s got sticks for legs, the kind that an ant could gnaw through and have me broken. Hey, look. I’m a puddle, people.

I’ve always been the type of girl who’d rather fight than be fought for, who waves a sword around with one arm and holds a shield in the other. But now, it’s like my arms are too weak to do anything except encircle myself like some kind of child.

I am left vulnerable, weakened, p a t h e t i c. But I push past the worst and search for the best

I choose life every morning when I wake up with the sun. I choose the right outfit, shoes, rings and bracelets. I read books. I practice life to the fullest. I’m inspired by The Submarine’s “1940 AmpLive Remix” and I am awe-struck by the tenacity of young children who can barely eat breakfast in their hospital beds. I feel empowered after witnessing a young woman’s attempt to change the world, and bring peace to the orphans in Africa. I let myself catch this thing called “motivation” and I make my move to start my own plans to take on the world. And then—I remember. I remember too much.

And I’m back, to the place, where it started. I remember that love is not enough, and I let myself crumple into this idea that has proven its power. And boy, does it have power. Power enough to knock me the heck out and make me wave some little white flag. Surrender, I do

My bones are back to being twigs and I’m a stick figure. I am a little, courage-mooching stick figure, with no room left to love. 

3 comments:

  1. Be strong and courageous. You can do it, girl.

    ReplyDelete
  2. As someone once said; if we're growing, we're always going to be out of our comfort zone.

    So here is to you growing and a post I can really relate to.

    ReplyDelete
  3. You're not the only one who does that. It always sort of feels inevitable, like you can correct your whole life and then, when you sit down to breathe, you remember what you spent the whole day forgetting.

    I promise it grows smaller and smaller with time.

    ReplyDelete

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