Journaling Genuine Courage

                                

“Courage is a heart word. The root of the word courage is cor—the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage meant ‘To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.’ Over time, this definition has changed, and today, we typically associate courage with heroic and brave deeds. But in my opinion, this definition fails to recognize the inner strength and level of commitment required for us to actually speak honestly and openly about who we are and about our experiences—good and bad.  Speaking from our hearts is what I think of as ‘ordinary courage.'” - Brene Brown

Sometimes we are so focused that we forget what bravery, what courage, what strength it has taken, what overloads us, because we are merely slogging through.  Other times, we can look back and honor what it took.  But, even though we know we have courage etal., it all slowly fades into another time (maybe decades) before we find ourselves struggling with emotional pain.  We have to be honest here.  We do struggle.  Everyone does, from time to time.  Some have gotten different kinds of support.  Some have not and they live a life in the stew of emotional pain.  Sometimes it feels like forever.  Time can feel like it stands still.  Somehow we gather up our courage again and we make it through....again...

Another need for bravery and courage presents itself, and it comes as if a dump truck spilled its load on you.  It is horrible.  It seems not to end.  You are barely coming up for air and another one hits.  We can only take so much and then we go beyond bent and we break.  I am not talking about every day, ordinary, stresses or clinical depression, etc.  I am talking about episodic anxiety that hits and hits and hits and then is released and we get up and dust our self off and gather ourselves up again.  It is those really dark nights of the soul for a few nights. It is those short term episodes of omg I cannot bear this and then you or something solves the problems and poof: anxiety gone.  

Sometimes episodic emotional pain can has up crawl off into our own personal cave and we stay there, trying to deal with the pain on our own, until we can't.  Sometimes we cannot think or work or sleep or be because the emotional pain hits so hard.  It is usually around death, other losses, abuse, (yes, adult bullying). We try our best to remain a responsible adult but the heart of it is rough and there is pain.  Somehow we manage but it hurts, everything hurts, sound, movement, space, time hurts.  

When we are in the grips of emotional pain, we are in a silent struggle for safety, release, peace.  We are not suicidal, in fact, that does not enter our mind.  We are wading into trying to get a grip, feeling guilt, shame, and all the negatives, when we are in the grip of that that calls for bravery and courage we do not think we possess and we feel even worse.  Somehow we got the memo that emotional pain is weakness, the devil within, the 'whatever'...not acceptable. But, something within takes over and we do get through it.  

When I feel things building, I have learned to art it out.  I have learned to nurture self.  I have learned to make a cup or two of Chai and sit with it.  I talk to it.  I talk to myself in silent women's language.  I find the more I take control, the less control the stressor has over me.    There are no magic pills or buttons or words or flowers or anything that is for everywoman.  Each of us have our ways to get through things and no one size fits all.  What might drive me to my knees is not necessarily what would drive someone else to their knees in emotional pain.  I become more decisive.  I see alternatives and the consequences more clearly, as I take hold of Self.  I do not necessarily listen to others opinions, but I listen to those with authentic genuine hearts that know to listen...just listen...just talking to someone can sometimes release the feelings of episodic hopelessness.  They know we are not usually like this and even if we do not tell the whole story, we speak, and speaking about our pain lessens it.  

 Genuine courage sits on the seams of our heart and waits for us to call on it. 

Four years ago, I used up all the courage and bravery I had in the five weeks losing Man Hands.  I had nothing left.  Rather than compassion, I was met with a hurt person's hurtful response to it all.  I understand now.  Grief can have you do weird crazy things.  Add the weeks of home hospice all by myself.  Add no sleep and little food.  Add my sweetheart's final death.  Add a life having to be moved in twenty-four hours.  Add four dear dear friends, and I got through until my daughter flew there.  Adding them, helped me move into a numbness.  The numbness took weeks, months, but, I was grasping for every bit of courage and bravery and hope I could muster, whereas in the beginning of the worst emotional pain, I had nothing of.  Without friends and my daughter, I would never have made it through.  Over the months I moved into grief and loss and abandonment and rejection.  By October, I had been able to make some decisions on my own.  I went from so much emotional pain that I no longer knew myself, to someone who could bear going it alone.  

Needing courage is all wrapped and tied around with fear, huge fear.  Knowing what that fear is; honoring it; finding a way to understand that fear; is paramount to eventual dissipation of the worst pain.  To gather it, I had to bravery (blindly), accept that I was broken, and still move on and then courage came to lift me up.  Somewhere deep inside is inner wisdom, inner self-worth, inner sense of strength.  Being genuinely courageous does not mean the fear is not there.  It means that we accept the emotional pain, honor it, and then allow it to scroll up from within and comfort us, spur us on through the healing process.  Hmm...yes, trusting others to hold us up until we can gain our own feet, is seriously important, and then trusting ourselves to continue on through the healing process.

What do you have the courage to do?  When do you honor your emotional pain?  Where do you cry?  Why do you cry?  Do you rant and rave ( I can, for sure, but not at anyone...merely walk in circles cussing like a fisherman's wife)  Where is your courage?  What do you do to gather courage?  How do you remain authentic and genuinely honest about courage?

Can you journal this?  You can see, I simply collaged my art journal page, and wrote a bit.  I know what this all means, what losses it represents, and that is enough to keep me building bravery and courage for another time, should emotional pain come to visit.  

Love and light.

©Carol Desjarlais 8.8.19