The first award I can ever remember winning was ‘The Church Mouse Award’ in the 4th grade. Every student in my class was given an award at the end of the school year, based on his or her personality, and that’s what Mrs. Rath landed me with. It’s funny how I remember that. Maybe it’s because now, eleven years later, I still fit the criteria for that particular award.
I was out with a friend last week, and she said something that’s been stuck in my head. I had said something that was out of character for me, causing my friend to laugh out loud. She told me she’d not expected something so bold and adventerous to come out of someone as quiet as me. It must have bothered me, I guess, because it’s been nearly a week now and my friend’s words are still replaying in my head.
I don’t care that I’m quiet. I like being quiet, and don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I do care, however, that I’m mousey. There’s a big difference, I think.
My whole life, I think, I’ve been afraid. Afraid to make waves. Afraid to be noticed. Afraid to make a move because I might make a mistake. Afraid to breathe. Susan and I got into a discussion a few weeks ago, durring which she pointed out that I am constantly apologizing for everything; “It’s like you’re apologizing for existing,” she told me. Ugh. What if I am? What makes a person feel as if they’ve got to apologize for being alive? I don’t want to feel that way…
I’m tired of being a mouse. I’m tired of being meek and timid. I’m tired of being afraid, and I’m tired of limiting myself because of my fear. What on earth am I so afraid of, anyway? And what does it take to stop being afraid?
Letting Go and Growing Up 
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