Strength Grows in the Moments You Think You Can't Go On

Recently, I have been thinking a lot about what strength and courage look like.

I have been reflecting on the moments when I was the strongest, the most courageous, or when I did something that amazed me. Looking back, it wasn't the moments when I spoke boldly and felt confident. It also wasn't when I finally accomplished a big goal.

When I look back, one of my most courageous moments was the first time I called someone to pitch a screenplay.

My heart was racing, I stumbled over my words, and I felt completely unprepared. And I was. I wasn't ready at all. The script I pitched wasn't ready, but I had no way of knowing it then. My skills were still too rough. I had no faith in myself as a writer, and yet, I did it anyways. And that amazes me. That person who did that, she makes me so proud, which is incredible, because afterwards, after that phone call, I felt naive and incapable. I felt like a loser. I was utterly disappointed in myself and my potential.

​I wanted to quit.

I had no idea that I would look back on that moment and gain inspiration and courage from it over and over in the future.

There were many times after that when I thought, I'm not going to make it. I was tired of the rejection and the doubt and fear. I was tired of living for tomorrow, always hoping tomorrow would bring good news. And in those moments I thought, I have no strength to go on. When I felt I couldn't even crawl a step further, those were the moments I felt the most broken and weak, and those were also the times when I dug my nails in and pulled myself an inch further forward.

That inch cultivated more strength and resilience in me than the miles I'd traversed before it.

​Clawing my fingers into the soil of my path, and dragging my tired spirt on, pulled up inner resources of strength and tenacity I didn't know I had. I earned that dirt below my nails. I earned those scrapes on my knees and elbows from where I crawled over rocks and sticks, unwilling to admit defeat.

Where the scrapes healed and turned to scars, the skin became tougher. And the next time I reached that point of I can't I knew I was lying to myself. I could, because I had done it before, and I would again and again, growing stronger and more courageous each time.

Grit, that inner iron will that says I am unstoppable, only grows when we we think we can't go on... and then do.