Saturday, January 26, 2019


So... I did a thing.

That turned into a bigger thing.

Basically, my "this isn't right" met up with my "someone has to say something" at just the right (or wrong) time, and I decided that someone was going to be me. I posted some heartfelt thoughts.

To our internal message board. At work.

I know.

And then, I scurried to bed.

I was almost afraid to look at the fall-out when I got up the next morning. No. I was afraid. I really do like my job!

But... I guess the most immediate fall-out was gratitude -- many messages, publicly and privately, thanking me for standing up, for saying what others also felt, for my bravery.

I haven't really known what to say or do with that.  I haven't felt brave at all.

It reminds me of how I felt when our girls were babies. We were 23 years old, first-time parents, when we had our twins -- preemies who spent weeks in the NICU. I remember feeling so uncomfortable and inadequate when people would praise us for how strong they thought we are.

Strong was the last thing I felt. I was just doing what I had to do -- for survival, not strength.

Strong and brave aren't really words I would use to describe myself but --

Maybe that's just because I've seen to many Hollywood movies where Strong and Brave were the big heroic deeds of muscle men and superheroes. Maybe that's not what Strong and Brave are.

Maybe... sometimes...

Strong and Brave are the little choices of ordinary people just trying to survive and do the right thing.

And maybe I need to remember that more.

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