Once, I believed that voice inside me was unstoppable. I told bold stories, chased wild ideas, and laughed at the thought of running out of words. But a year ago . . . it all went quiet. Standing at that threshold — pen poised, heart pounding — I felt nothing but silence. Like the words had stopped coming. I’d lost my pulse in the pages. Fear thrived in that silence, and doubt whispered that my voice was gone for good.

What made it worse were the watchers. You know the ones — people standing at a distance, waiting for you to stumble. They never clap when you rise, but they lean in when you fall. Their voices weren’t loud, but they echoed in my head: She’s done. She doesn’t have it anymore. And sometimes, I believed them.

But in the middle of my silence, something else happened. My circle, the people who love me, leaned in closer. They didn’t let me give up. They shouted, “Courage isn’t gone. You just buried it. Let’s go find it.” Others reminded me that treasure is never found lying on the surface — you have to dig for it.

At first, I didn’t want to dig. I was tired, afraid, and embarrassed that I’d lost what once came so easily. But the people in my circle didn’t let me sit in that space. They handed me the map, the shovel, and the reminder that I wasn’t alone. So I started small. One sentence. Then another. Most of it wasn’t pretty. Most of it felt forced. But each word was like tapping against a locked door, waiting for it to give.

Then one morning, the door cracked open. I wrote a paragraph that made me feel again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was alive. That’s when I realized courage had never left — it had just been locked away, waiting for me to search for it. And slowly, with every person who reminded me I still had a voice, I found the key I thought I had thrown away.

Here’s what I learned: Courage isn’t a constant companion. It’s a treasure you sometimes misplace, buried under fear and doubt. But it’s always there, waiting to be reclaimed. And when you finally find it again, it shines brighter than before — because you know what it feels like to live without it.

So, if you’ve ever felt like you’ve lost your voice, your passion, your fire — don’t give up. Surround yourself with people who remind you who you are. Take the shovel. Start digging. Because on the other side of fear is courage, and that courage will open doors you thought were closed forever.

Sis, we want to hear from you! Drop a comment and tell us about the passion you’re courageously unearthing and reclaiming?