Showing Your True Self

The Coffee Cup Moment

Two tours taught me to swallow pain. Therapy taught me to spit it out. But some days, the old reflex wins.

Last week, my therapist asked, "How are you really?" not the usual "Fine, ma'am" I’d give a drill sergeant. My coffee cup trembled. The military version of "fine" was a survival skill. Admitting anything else felt like handing an enemy a weapon.

I took a breath. "I’m not fine," I said. Not "I’m okay" or "I’ll be fine." Just the truth. My voice cracked. I braced for the judgment, the "Just toughen up" I’d heard too often.

She didn’t blink. "Good," she said. "Now tell me what’s not fine."

That’s when it hit me: I’d just done the thing I thought would destroy me. And I was still standing. Still talking. Still here.

This tiny win wasn’t about grand gestures. It was about the quiet courage in choosing honesty over armor. It proved that showing my cracks didn’t make me fragile—it made me human. And human is where the real healing starts.

Courage isn’t what you think. It’s not the roar of a squad charging a compound. It’s the whisper of "I need help" when the silence feels like a prison. It’s the moment you stop hiding behind "fine" and let someone see you.

I’ve seen the worst, and I’ve seen people survive it. They didn’t survive by being perfect. They survived by being real. That’s the strength I’m learning to trust.

Start small. Say the hard word. Your truth isn’t a weakness—it’s the first step back to yourself.

— Lois Brown, still serving