Are you a wimp? I am.

I admit it. It’s nothing new. I have never been a very tough person.

I remember having this not-cut-out-for-this-life feeling as a young adult. I know we’re all different, as if we’re each cut from a different cloth. I’d like to think my cloth is denim, or corduroy, but I’m feeling it’s more like velvet or silk.

So many of you have suggested it is brave of me to share my story here and I’m grateful to you for your support and understanding but “brave” is not how it feels. Weak, helpless; wimpy is how it feels. I fall, you catch me. Which part of that is brave – the falling or the needing to be caught?

Oh I know the drill; I know the techniques. My toolkit is filled with tools, good ones. I have wonderful self-help books all over my house and I subscribe to the best blogs. None of that changes the reality of who I am.

The other day on a Facebook chat a sweet blogging friend typed “How have you been?”

I responded, “Hanging in there. Still in disbelief and not too enthusiastic – about anything – but I’m still moving through my days. Not what you usually hear (or want to hear) when you say “How are you” is it?'”

Her response: “You really are a very very courageous woman.”

My reply to her and what I say to you who call me brave; “I really doubt that but just this little exchange helps me to feel authentic. It’s as if everything else I do is not really meaningful. Thank you.”

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that conversation. It seems that when I am authentic, even if that means being or feeling weak, I feel better.

Courageous woman? Wimp? Whatever you call it, it’s who I am. It’s a starting place at least – acceptance.

Are you a wimp? What cloth was used for the cutting-out of you?

photo credit: Tambako the Jaguar