Every single week, I get to practice being brave.
I don’t usually enjoy it. I often dread it. It makes me nervous every time-- hands trembling, heart racing, mind whirling, the whole bit. There’s a standing appointment on my calendar, week after week, and while it might be at a slightly different hour each time, I know that once a week, for about 50 minutes, I’ll be sitting on that blue couch across from a man with a clipboard and a kind smile.
Every single week, I show up to counseling. And I practice being brave. I practice courage.
This whole showing up thing? It’s harder than I thought it would be. And scarier, too. It seems easy to just arrive at a place and be there. But when you’re arriving at a place where the goal is vulnerability and total honesty, showing up gets pretty scary. It’s intimidating. I don’t know what questions he will ask me. I don’t know what I’ll uncover in myself as I start to speak. I don’t know what God will stir up inside of me. I might weep, or maybe laugh, or find myself too stuck to even speak. It’s hard to show up. Counseling has become the thing I so rarely want, but so evidently need.
Photo Credit: Unsplash/Kyle Loftus