They said I was strong.
They said I was fearless.
They said I was brave.
They said I was a survivor.

Tell me how you can call
Me brave when I can’t
Even face a stairwell
By myself.

They were wrong.
I am afraid.
I cannot face my fears
Any better than you can.

They were wrong.
I am not strong.
I am not fearless.
I am not brave.

But, they were right
About one thing.
I am a survivor.
And I am here.

I wrote this poem many years ago and originally released it as the third part of a series. When I came back to it today to upload it here I was shocked at just how far away this version of me feels now. It can be hard, sometimes, to realize how much we have grown as people–how much we have learned, overcome, and evolved.

I am still a survivor. I am still here. But, now, I can face stairwells without a second thought, I faced my fears and overcame them. I am a mother. I am strong as shit. And it is completely okay that I wasn’t before.