I wish I was one of those people who handle things well. I wish when I got bad news, my first reaction was one of trust and serenity. I wish when I’m ill, I would have confidence that things are going to be better, that I had a positive outlook even when the facts look bad. I am not one of those people. I will get to a good place eventually, but I go dark first. First I get sad, angry, and frightened.
It is helpful to be reminded of who I am, so I don’t worry so much for who I am not. The other day, my father was kind of enough to remind me that I am brave. I do feel the fear, and even dare to say that I feel it, but the fear does not hold me back. I act courageously. Dad reminded me that on our first trip to the beach, I walked straight into the ocean. I went to Europe by myself when I was thirteen, to hike the Alps. He reminded me that I used to sing for special events at church, and the congregation was so proud of a little girl who would march onstage and take the microphone in hand. I am not a positive thinker, but I am brave. I do not wink at demons. I seize demons by the horns and wrestle them to the ground.