User:LoisBrown/2023-10-27 The Cup That Didn’t Shake
Three years after the betrayal—my closest colleague leaking my medical notes to command during my deployment—trust felt like a minefield. I’d learned to shut down, to take coffee black and alone, to say “no” before anyone could ask.
Last Tuesday, Sarah from the new trauma unit offered me coffee. “Just to talk,” she said, holding out a mug. My old reflex screamed: Don’t accept. Don’t let them in. They’ll use it. I’d spent months refusing even small gestures.
I took the mug.
It wasn’t a grand gesture. No tears, no speeches. Just a warm cup in my hands, steam rising, while Sarah asked about my weekend. My hands didn’t shake. I didn’t flinch when her fingers brushed mine. I didn’t bolt.
This is why it mattered: It proved I wasn’t frozen anymore. That betrayal had carved a canyon in my trust, but I’d just crossed it. One tiny step.
Courage isn’t what you think. It’s not charging into fire. It’s accepting a cup of coffee when your whole body says run. It’s the quiet moment you choose to stay, even when the ground feels like it’s shifting.
I’ve seen the worst, and I’ve seen people survive it. But I’ve never seen the quietest victories—like this—matter more.
This isn’t healing. It’s just showing up. For the next cup. The next conversation. The next time someone offers you coffee.
— Lois Brown, still serving