Courage comes in a variety of forms. It can mean quitting a job you hate, conquering a fear, or risking your life for others. It can be loud and prominent, or quiet but fierce, like Judy Feragola.

She isn’t a celebrity or socialite. She doesn’t ask for much and she doesn’t expect anything from anyone. She simply appreciates every minute with the people she loves, and she is fighting like hell for each and every one of those minutes.

She had the courage to make difficult decisions that lead her to the man she is meant to be with. She has the unabiding love of a mother for her children. She had the will and the strength and the good fortune to beat breast cancer, and make it look easy. And now she is staring down another lethal adversary, almost daring it to underestimate her.

No cancer is easy to grapple with.

No cure is easily come by and no recovery is easily reached. No person confronted with this disease has an easy road ahead. Nor do the people who love them. Each day requires a new commitment to live that day to its fullest, whether in a hospital or at home, whether physically able to take a walk, or forced to stay in bed.

It should be more than enough for a person to leave one cancer behind them. It is downright unfair to thrust the challenge upon them again. But fate is indifferent to fairness, and we are at its mercy.

It is easy to confuse our frailties with being powerless. We cannot often foresee or avoid falling victim to natural disasters, freak accidents, predatory behavior, or the frailty of our bodies.

Anyone forced to reckon with the aftermath of such occurrences is vulnerable to succumb to the safety of victimhood, for escaping its clutches is a whole other battle, demanding strength beyond what has already been endured.

Some people escape from the clutches of victimhood. Others do not. And some, like Judy, simply never let it catch them in the first place.

It takes courage to stare cancer down once. It takes more courage to do it again. And it takes even more to share that struggle, with all its highs and lows, with others. Allowing oneself to admit to feeling scared, or angry, or simply so damn tired isn’t easy for a warrior like Judy. But she does it anyway. And whether or not she means to inspire others, she is.

How many of us falter under our own burdens, and feel as if admitting momentary defeat or despair is tantamount to projecting weakness? How many of us are tempted to wrap up in the cloak of victimhood, blaming our unhappiness on forces greater than us? How many of us believe we aren’t strong enough, or lucky enough, to overcome what we face? And how many of us overlook the abundance of beauty in even the darkest of days?

Judy’s voice is a message to anyone struggling underneath their own burdens.

Judy’s voice reminds us that while some burdens are just that, most of what we perceive as such are, in fact, blessings. Judy’s voice both acknowledges despair while demanding courage. Judy’s voice should be heard, and we are all so blessed she continues to share it with us.