Today’s post is by our Brave Writer, Angela Giles Klocke
This weekend, I learned there is a very real difference between fear and nervousness. As I readied myself to present my story of abuse and the red flags that I “missed,” I realized that the slight quiver running through my body was normal, regular nervousness, something I could and would push through regardless. Whereas fear? Fear as I have known it paralyzes me, or when it allows me to take action, said actions are usually in the department of self-sabotage.
I’ve lived a lifetime of fear, of running when things were too hard or when they were going too well. Of cutting off relationships because the other person might hurt me. Of cowering from opportunities because “what if?” is very good friends with fear, and both speak such lies.
I’ve told my story before. I’ve stood in front of teenagers and adults alike for much longer than I did this weekend, and for all of those times, fear drove me as I spoke. I would go somewhere deep inside myself while my voice poured out my story, peeking out at random moments, and then reappearing at the end, when the applause would give approval to my fearful self that all was okay. This time. Again.
This time, I was fully present. I was nervous but not afraid. I was engaged, and I realized as I spoke that this was the first time I was publicly sharing my story from this side of healing. All my previous events were pre-healing, told from a scattered place of fear and dread and desire to help but without direction to be more than this crazy story. Now I spoke with intention, without meandering down rabbit holes that mattered to me but didn’t really do anything for the listener, and I shared from a place of glorious hindsight.
Grace for me, forgiveness for those who hurt me. Understanding without giving the others excuses. A story to help rather than a cry for my own help. “I want this to help you” versus “Please feel sorry for me and give me the love I so desperately need.”
The road to here has been a long one, but as I emerge from a long tunnel of confusion and hurt and blind spots, I see nothing but beauty and hope and courage.
As Maya Angelou would say, “I wouldn’t take nothing for my journey now.”
Angela is a writer, photographer, speaker, activist, and princess living in Southern Colorado. She spends her days with family, friends, dogs, an old cat, words, pictures, and God. She can be found online at: angelagilesklocke.com