Recently a thread has woven through my life, a phrase has stuck to my ribs, names have been called, and a life has been defined. It started in my teens when a friend called me a doormat. Then last year, when a co-worker called me the bosses puppet. And just this week, when my coworker said my student treats me like his servant.

Doormat. Puppet. Servant. I avoid conflict at all costs and this is what it has gotten me. I will go to extremes not to be confrontational; I will fawn, I will mask, I will freeze, I will flee. I will do it all except speak up.

I have read how to do it, I have attended workshops, I have stepped one foot into the shallow puddle, but never gone into the deep end of standing in my own voice. I stay in the shallow waters, and the results remain anemic. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to summon the courage, even in the moment when I know what I should be doing, I won’t do it. There is definitely some heavy anchor weighing me down that I need to unearth. Lord, help me find the strength.