Sometimes even the bravest girl can get a little weary. After the road trips and the adventures and the bucket list items crossed off the list, there's still all that other crap just waiting for her and bit by bit it'll just beat her right back until she's crouching in a dark little corner, trembling at the merest sound. She is filled to overflowing with doubt. Sometimes the fog sinks into her bones until she can't remember what it is to feel warm anymore.
But then a sun patch appears. Somebody says, "You're gorgeous," or "you're perfectly imperfect," or both hilariously and tragically, "you are not an idiot." Somebody blurts out, "I always learn so much from you," or "I love spending time with you." Somebody gives her a really warm hug. Somebody explains that actually it's the craziness that makes her wonderful. Somebody sends a note that says, "You are okay, and I love you." And the light hits her face just so, encouraging her to lift her head to bask in it. Her eyes blink and water in the unexpected glare. There are audible cracks and rumbles as her heart thaws out just a little bit. She starts to dream again of light-filled rooms and the smell of fresh clean air. She holds the world's tiniest dance party while she does the dishes.
Sometimes even the bravest girl can get overwhelmed by heaviness, and sometimes she can find herself in a scary place. But if she's lucky--if she's really, really lucky--and she reaches her hand out into the darkness, somebody will hand her a flashlight and suddenly the room is flooded with light. I am really, really, extraordinarily, amazingly, gratefully lucky.