Courage Wrapped in a Bow and an F-Bomb

My girl has had some struggles with school this year. To say the least. Driving her yesterday I could see it coming. The fear turning her feral right before my eyes. The panic, the reality of the moment creeping closer and closer with every street crossing. 

I could see the wild animal in her looking for an escape. Urgently looking in the mirror, checking all the things and places, asking if her hair was ok, making the pitch one more time to let her just go in and talk to her teacher and then come back to the car and go home with me. 

“But, I still have a bit of a cough…” 

“I don’t want to mama. I want to go home with you...”

“Noperoonie, no can do, my girl.”

“You are blessed with beautiful olive skin so you can hardly see that pimple. Me and your sister on the other hand 😬 Your hair looks great. It looks like the 70’s just like you wanted. Your clothes are a bit shlubby but we will work on that and if you smile it’ll brighten EVERYTHING. Now GO!!!”

Sometimes the pep talks work, but lotsa times they don’t. 

And then she let out an f-bomb.

And it 

Was

Awesome

It wasn’t just resolve, it was resolve with a spiked collar (which I discovered has been around for thousands of years as a means to protect livestock dogs from lethal bites to the throat by predators usually wolves, but also bears and large cats.)

That f-bomb was drenched in committed resolve and I could taste it. 

Instead of choosing to be the feral cat desperate for an exit she became the fighter I know she is. She turned, squared off and focused in on the attack. Even knowing the risks, she was facing it head on. And that was pure courage. 

And for those who don’t know, courage isn’t doing things when you’re unafraid, it’s being afraid and doing them anyway. 

And I know that place well myself. Feeling so anxious that it’s paralyzing. That place where even just thinking about the thing throws you into a slurry and flurry of feelings and stress. In fact I visit that place so frequently that I’ve outfitted it with a comfy chair that fits my bottom perfectly, a salt lamp, a throw blanket, slippers and my favorite assorted teas. 

With this particular delivery of that word, I could see daughter’s resolve to accept her fate and apply herself. I could hear the choice-making happen. It was magical, it was transformational. It was what my elder teacher calls “Shapeshifting”. It was great. 

I told her “YES!!! Cameron, YES!!! Good!!! I know what that means!! Go!!!! And as she smiled and stepped out I said; “I’m so heckin’ prouda you”

And then I watched her walk into the school with a little more pep in her step than I’ve seen in a while. And as I watched her I whispered an f-bomb myself before adding “you go girl”.