Again

 I reached forward to take the hand, a saving hand of encouragement and strength. With all my doubts and pity for my every cell, I took it away, letting go again.

Again! 

I reached again to search for the handout, the gift that would bring me to a place of self-confidence. I pulled away again, doubting the results that would transpire if I followed through. 

Again!

I stood tall, and I let the hand come to me to lift me up and guide me forward. I made it.

Again, I am here with a hand up, not a hand out.