Returning to Myself in Silence

I used to think courage was loud. That it announced itself with grand gestures and bold

declarations. But real courage, the kind that changes you, often happens in

silence. Every Tuesday evening at six, I'd sit at the same corner table in

that cramped coffee shop on Maple Street. Not because the coffee was exceptional, but because it was

the one place I could practice being seen without actually being noticed. After months of

hiding from the world following a brutal round of workplace bullying that left me questioning

my worth, this was my quiet rebellion. Showing up. Existing in public.

Breathing the same air as people who seemed so effortlessly confident. There was this older