Courage under fire

Let's see ... taking the punishment on behalf of my four-years-younger cousin, who was being bullied by some boys in my class at primary school, letting them punch and kick and "mousey" me, without showing any sign of pain - and then breaking one boy's jaw and ending all the bullying. Standing up to my gym teacher for humiliating my best friend in high school. Getting in front of a steriod-junkie musclehead and stopping him from barging up the stairs and punching the head off my Ally McBeal-sized (female) friend, who was moving out of his psycho slut girlfriend's apartment.

I guess most of my friends and family think my true moment of bravery was the time Deafboy and I were attacked in my house, stabbed, tied up, tortured and terrorised. I let myself be raped because I knew it would keep Deafboy alive beside me, and when the moment came, I was able to get free and fight, and then I beat the everloving snot out of my attacker despite the deep stab wound in my back. Well, that's why my friends think I'm brave, anyway. Actually, I think I did what had to be done in order to survive. Personally I think I was brave because I didn't let it get to me and change me into someone fearful of the world, but propel me further along my path of optimism. We were scared shitless the whole way through, but I guess that's what courage is all about.

Just recently, being so open and honest with MadCat about my life, when before I have laughed and smiled and covered up the things I thought would make people uncomfortable - like the attack. It's the kind of bravery that scares me a whole lot more than being hurt physically. I'm not that strong, that big or that swift, so it's a given that I'll come off second best in most altercations. But opening up and being as vulnerable as I have been recently, telling MadCat all my deepest, darkest secrets, admitting things that I've hidden even from myself for 30 years ... yeah, that's the height of bravery to me.