It’s been more than 30 days since I began the Be Brave Project and I’ve been trying to figure out how I can adequately communicate what the project did for me. Even though I never verbalized it, I think I had hopes that the project would propel me into this new world of gregariousness, adventure, and fearlessness. In my naïveté I saw myself speaking up without reservation, never second guessing myself, and becoming this big, bold personality.
Can you say. . . “Pipe Dream?”. . . In essence, I thought I would cease being, well, me.
Over the last 30-plus days I have challenged myself in many ways. I have. . .
-Made phone calls I would have rather avoided
-Spoken up when I would have typically stayed silent
-Told a few people about this blog
-Stopped running (okay. . . I didn’t really have a choice, but believe me in the past I would have run anyway)
. . . to name a few.
As I began doing some of these “brave” things I realized something. . . I am still scared out of my mind.
This was not the result I was hoping for. I found myself feeling frustrated because I wasn’t becoming this bold, outgoing person. . .
Nope, I was still me.
But something happened when I wrote this snippet of my story. As I recounted the details of my journey with my Mom it was as if I was seeing the entire experience through new eyes. Through the writing of the story I was given the gift of objectivity and as I watched my part play out, I saw a girl who was scared every step of the way. . . but who was also brave. It was through telling this story that I recognized that bravery is not an absence of fear, but rather a moving forward in spite of fear. I found myself getting excited as I realized that the girl in the story would not cower in fear when it really mattered.
I am the girl in that story and while I may never jump out of an airplane or give a speech in front of thousands of people, I have no doubt that when it matters. . . I will be brave.