Finding Courage
By Bethanny L.
I've never been what you would label as a “bad kid.” For the most part, I've always been obedient to my parents. At least, I've been obedient enough to manipulate the system and get favor in the eyes of my mom and dad. (Oops, confession time!)
What kid hasn't disagreed with or rebelled against authority at some point in their lives? Still, if you were to ask my parents, they'd say that overall, I'm not a rebel, and I haven't jumped off the deep end into treacherous waters. I'm human, sure, and I mess up, but I wasn't a complete brat through my childhood.
However, my mother can think of a phase in my life when we had more than one incident arise that showed a lack of some necessary character qualities on my part.
Shy. Reserved. Introverted. Social anxiety. These are some labels people would use to describe me, especially from age 12-16. My mother and I would, more accurately, label my shortcomings as related to fear, selfishness, and, yes, disobedience.
My wardrobe has always consisted of mostly black clothing, not because I'm moody but because black doesn't show pit stains. I stress sweat by the gallons, to the point where my mom started buying me two of every shirt I owned so I could change when it got too bad and no one would notice. We bought the strongest deodorants and antiperspirants Wal-Mart had to offer,
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