Inside: Choosing life when you don’t know how you’ll live and you feel alone and unheard. Choosing to love and who you are. Choosing not to quit. This is brave. Maybe you are brave.
I never identified with this word. I knew it definitely did not describe me. I was afraid. I was overwhelmed. I hated who and how I was. I wanted to end my stay here. I felt inadequate and ill equipped for surviving in this world. I was clearly not brave.
But choosing life when you don’t know how you’ll live and you feel alone and unheard. That is brave. Choosing to love and like who you are – to embrace all your glorious messiness – that is brave too.
Fighting for wholeness one day at a time and holding out light to others – a tiny glimmer – so that maybe they too will find themselves one day healthy, whole, healed. I realize now this is brave.
Telling the truth about all your anger and darkness and the hopelessness you feel right now. Letting yourself be seen. Refusing to wear an ill-fitting mask of “have my shit together” and “my life is amazing” and “follow in my footsteps, I know exactly how to do this thing called life” – that is incredibly, terrifyingly brave.
There are no guarantees. You may not get a fairy tale ending. You may end up walking through stuff that is so hard and so heart-wrenching that never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined yourself surviving it little own coming through strong and scared but anchored, with hope to share.
Choosing not to quit, that is brave. Choosing to love fiercely when you don’t know how it will end. Brave. Choosing to end the entrenched family patterns, to choose a new path, even when it feels like you’re fighting an uphill battle with scanty support. This is brave.
Choosing with each step and each breath to scan for beauty like your life depends upon it, to stay open to joyful possibility, to hold space for pain and sorrow but also for growth and restoration. I’m calling this brave.
Maybe you are brave.