You can’t get to courage without walking through Vulnerability



The other day i stole a couple hours and went to a coffee shop to work. While i was there i got our newsletter finished and was about to begin on some paperwork when I opened the notepad on my computer and just began writing. I had no idea what I was going to write, i just began writing whatever came to my head. Below is what resulted from that.

That was Tuesday. Today is Thursday and after a few days of deliberating I decided to post it. I hesitated because I was afraid of what others would think. Would they like it? Would it sound too morbid? But then I began to realize something and have been realizing this for quite some time… I need to be me. I need to be real and true to myself and how I feel. Maybe if i allow myself to be real, it will give others the opportunity to love me for me and not someone I am pretending to be at times. Maybe by being vulnerable, i will be strong.Bravery is not keeping everyone out after being hurt but allowing your heart to trust again.

I hope you see the hope in this. Even though it is sad at times, it is the hope that shines through and shows us after the mess we are walking through.






With the power to give life or destroy, our words can echo for eternity in the soul of another. 

My perpetrators are not visible yet they are more real to me than the table I am sitting at. They are lies; bouncing off the walls of my heart, over and over,

Like a thick fog, these words mask the truth that is tucked away deep inside. A truth that I am loved, I am beautiful, and I am a force to be reckoned with. 

For it to be said that “we are harder on ourselves than others are on us” is a statement that I know too well. A truth beyond most, The lies I have embraced have twisted and shaped the world I now walk through. 

Like a black and white painting, they are the blue, the yellow, and the red- staining the canvas and drawing attention away from the true design. 


Because it is like the dog that cowers away to the hand that beats it. If it knew it’s strength, it would rise up against its oppressors and take back what they try to steal. 

It is real

In the moments I’ve stolen to write these words they are pounding at my door. Pressure ever building, hinges bursting, and still I frantically write these words to you while I stay hidden in the dark. Time is ticking 

like a masquerade they hide behind the golden gems and feathered rims. Inviting and enticing, you open yourself to them,approaching ever closer, until they have you close enough you can smell the rank stench. Then it is too late.

I am not someone extraordinary. I am not the smartest person or someone that could take your breath away but I am someone. 

I can stand and take back what was stolen from me. With every lie I believed I can choose to believe something other. Something better. Something real. 

With my words I can stand.

Like an open wound still fresh from the blade, I can feel the pain take hold. Over and over we try and tell ourselves that this time, THIS time, It will be different. I will not allow the pain to steer, to dictate my path. But once again, like a song stuck on repeat, it plays over and over and over again, the chorus unchanged and the result the same. 

When will this end?

When will the scars from our past fade and no longer write the script for our future. When will the pen be taken away and the voice from our past silenced? When will our hearts be free to choose again instead of merely trying to survive?

We are not in control.

We can make these pledges, these oaths to ourselves. To stand with hand over heart and vow to never again be control by our limitations. But they are limitations for a reason. Like an animal who is chained, we too can only go so far. Link by everlasting link we are confined to the space we have made for ourselves. Each foot compressing, shortening, until it becomes inches. With every choice made to save what has been broken the chain grows smaller. 

I am not in control. 

I cannot change what has happened and my heart has not forgotten but I can choose. 

A choice still remains within our grasp and only has to be made. A choice to keep moving, keep walking, keep believing. A choice to not die, to not lay down and to no longer believe the endless lies that flicker through our minds. 

For too long now who I was, what I was, was formed by the hands of hate. like clay i was sculpted by the thoughts that said I was  not good enough, thin enough, or smart enough. Cookie cutter looks and a personality formed by the opinions of others; a suggestion box open for interpretation.  Never constant, never firm. Like a tree without roots i bent and moved with the slightest breeze.

I am not in control.

But now i will stand. 

Rising from the ashes of my former self like a phoenix born again from the remains of what he was, i am reborn. No longer will my future echo my past. Truth I will wear around my neck like a necklace reminding me of something that was once lost. The lies still wait like a lion crouching in the distance waiting for its moment. I will stand guard against my mind and my heart. Armed with the knowledge of who I am, and who He is, I am strong and when the darkness threatens the small flame that burns, I will dare to grow ever brighter. Darkness cannot remain as the light threatens it into extinction. I will let go and allow myself to burn brighter for the sake of my life and those around me.

 Dare to burn beyond what you can control. Be out of control because when you are not, He is. Let go even though everything inside tells you to run; pry off one cold finger after the next until you are holding in your hands your freedom. Only when your hands are freed can you accept what is waiting for you. But first you must let go. 

Let go of control.

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