Sitting in a class, varied ages and experiences and credentials much more distinguished than mine, my eyes took it all in. Professor spoke, I scribbled notes. A question was posed.
Oh! I know this! I have something to say!
But my analytical self, that side of myself that causes me to pause, cleared its throat and reminded me how small and inexperienced I was. And that I might come across as a young professional pretending to be a grownup. So I pursed my lips and jotted down a few more words.
Conversation continued, my imagination soared, wide-eyed as creativity took flight. Connections between content and real life things built bridges in my mind. Excited, a thought escaped my mouth, betraying the analatical self. Cheeks blazing, fear prepared me to be wrong. I was met with nods of agreement from the faces next to me; a look of surprised approval from professor. Strength was born, its steady warmth rising up inside me. I found the space where I could speak. I found that the things keeping me silent weren't worth forsaking the blessing of finding my voice. Each time my hand raised, that steady strength grew and my voice got fuller and more confident.
Today I exercised bravery. Today I faced the fear of insecurity, the fear of disapproval. I found my voice.
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