Courage

Courage is doing what you dream of with shaky hands and unsteady feet.

I wrote the above statement as a simple fairy thought that floated into my mind one fateful day.

It hasn’t left me since.

I’m a very fearful person. I think it’s a mindset I grew into over the years, somewhat against my will. Little fairy Anastasia was brave and bold and spontaneous. But, as ‘growing up’ goes, it didn’t take long for my eyes to begin to see danger in every step forward. Sneers and taunts came alive in my everyday life, both from those who knew me and those who knew nothing at all.

And yet, I have always had the rather persistent desire to live in a magical way. How I see the world is quite literally colored with sparkles and wonder and light.

And even with all the fear, I find myself reaching for my eternal, whimsical lens. Through it I see a glowing world, and I find the truth over and over again:

I may not always be confident but I have courage.

Courage is who wakes me up every morning. She’s the nervous friend who sits by me and holds my left hand as I write fairytale after fairytale with my right. She cuddles with me when I can’t sleep at night and she helps me make breakfast when I’m too tired to care.

Together, her and I are the oddest, clumsiest, most chaotic duo, and yet we make it work.

Courage shows me that the bravery and boldness of little me is not lost. It may be buried deep and it may take a while to feel it but courage reminds me, gently, that I have to try. That I want to try.

“Look how much magic you’ve made already,” she tells me, hugging me tightly from behind as I cry alone on my bedroom floor. “Look how much joy and laughter you’ve found.”

“I know you’re scared but I really believe in you. There’s no one I believe in more than you.”

And always, always I turn around to hug her back. I bury my face in her old pink sweater that smells like home, because I know she means it, because she never lies to me.

Courage isn’t snotty, or mean, or a know it all flaunting a superiority complex. She doesn’t try to predict my future— clairvoyancey tends to stress her out.

But she loves me, unconditionally. Sad, miserable, anxious, joyful—she feels everything that I feel and we look at each other with knowingness in our eyes. . .and then we burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

“You’re stuck with me.” I’d say cheekily to her on some days as we both stuff our faces with popcorn watching regency dramas. “And you’re stuck with me,” She’d reply sticking out her tongue.

Oh she’s so childish, she so silly, I think to myself with a warmth in my heart. And then I’d walk past the mirror and see her there looking back at me.

Anyone who gets to know me can probably tell that I’m such a planner. I love lists and bullet points and charts and arrows pointing to places I’ve never been. But I have no idea, as is the human condition, what the future will bring.

Still, I’ll be waiting, (most assuredly) on jello legs, a magic wand in one hand, hope in the other. Courage by my side and in my heart, forever.

Xx Anastasia <3