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Snap Out of It: On Bravery

It’s funny, sometimes, how often we put up with something, because we think we have to. For whatever reason, it’s good. It’s deserved. It’s honest. It’s justified. It’s necessary. It’s the only way. Ad nauseum. We go along to get along, because in a strange way, it’s almost easier. A familiar cage, regardless of the damage it does, is at least a known difficulty. Otherwise, what’s next? Otherwise, what’s out there? Otherwise, what might happen?

The dangerous, wonderful thing is that everything might happen. And that can be scary, because there are always too many variables to account for. So, you stay stuck in the mud. Smile pretty. Pretend that you like it. But really, when it comes down to it, you’re just hanging around in wet dirt. There’s nothing pretty or honest about it.

People are often dead scared of the loss of control that comes with making changes. Of following your heart. Of honor what inspires passion in you. But to quote my wise, badass, brilliant friend Deanna Raybourn, “But this is a thing that I know–to live with fear is not to live at all. A man will die every moment he is afraid.”

Fear is the worst kind of bully. It lives in your head. It pulls out all your biggest worries. It hurls what-ifs and regrets at you from the inside, when you’re at your weakness. It reminds you of the look n your mother’s face when you’ve disappointed her. It offers you the low, disapproving whistle of friends and colleagues. It hands you a sharp blade made of everything bad that you carry with you, past sins and those that don’t even belong to you. Things that simply hang over your head and maybe always have. Fear holds that blade to your throat and tells you to stay put. To stay within the lines. To bleed if you have to, but don’t you dare or be different. Don’t blink. Don’t breathe. Just stay.

Darlings, if I may offer some wisdom: screw that. There’s nothing noble or worthy of suffering. There’s nothing beautiful about pain. There’s nothing glorious about allowing yourself to stay small, just to keep other people happy. There’s nothing charming or wise about rooting yourself to a rotted foundation, moment, or idea. It’s the opposite, really. It’s cowardly. It’s knowing there’s possibility out there, and eating the same bag of shit, day in and day out. Because, hey, at least you have that bag of shit. Some people don’t even have that.

Right. But at the end of the day, you’re still shoveling crap into your face and calling it necessary. It’s not. One of the most important things in this life is to surround yourself with people who encourage, love, and support you. Who might tell you when you’re being stupid, but in a nice way. Those handful of folks who always have your back and who always cheer you on, near or far. No matter the distance or how much time has passed. Because, yes, you need to be brave to start with. You need to make the choice to be brave.

But, sometimes, you always need a Moonstruck Cher to slap you across the face and tell you to snap out of it. Because life is finite. And love isn’t. Because the days all contain the same 24 hours, but our hearts contain whole universes. Because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, but this breath—right now—is.

I was talking about bravery, yesterday. It’s not an absence of fear. It’s never that. It’s often not even actually feeling competent at all. It’s taking a deep breath and doing the thing anyway, even if you feel like throwing up. I don’t know anyone who is truly fearless. That’s a word we use when someone is terrified, but is also hell-bent on being a badass. Me? I’m scared all the time. I’m scared about a lot of things. I’m a chronic overthinker, who worries and fusses like a champ. I run through conversations, real and possible, in my head. I examine things from a ridiculous number of angles. I am not good at letting things lie, and I don’t know how to calm down sometimes. So, yeah, even if I look collected and at ease, chances are, my emotions are dialed up to 11—and my brain’s on hyperdrive.

However, scared or not, I’m still here. Which means I owe it to myself to be scared, but not let the fear own me. It means that I still have a chance to accomplish something, to change, to achieve, to the thing—to alter my fate, if you want to look at it like that.

I’m a girl who believes in singing along to the radio at the top of her lungs. I believe that hanging out with your best friend may not solve all problems, but it sure dulls them. I believe in laughter at 3am, tequila, and pasta. If I love you, I’ll feed you. It’s not up for debate. You’re eating. I believe in T-shirts and photographs. Feeling the grass between your toes in the summer, because shoes are optional. Cartwheels and hammocks are equally fun. The beach is a balm to the soul, and there’s nothing a glass of wine and a good joke can’t help. I believe in the power of words and the way your name can sound safe in someone’s mouth. I believe in doing the impossible, because someone says it can’t be done. (Yeah, screw that asshole. He ain’t seen nothing yet.) I believe in getting up every time you fall, because pain doesn’t mean you quit. And screwing up never means giving up on what matters. And what matters to you? Deep down in your bones and heart? What sets you on fire and brings an unbidden smile to your face? You fight like hell to keep that stuff in your life. No matter how difficult, you throw down. Tape up your hands and take a swing. Because you give for what you love, darlings. Always.

At the end of the day, I know how to walk through fire. I know how to hold still in a hurricane. I know how to get knocked down and haul myself back on my feet. It’s not because I’m a paragon of virtue or awesomeness. I can’t perform an actual miracle. I’m the furthest thing from perfect you’ll find in the tri-state area. But my momma taught me not to cower to bullies, not even those in my own head. She taught me that you fight for what you believe in—and to always believe in myself.

So, maybe you’re sitting there looking at your life, terrified, wondering what-if. Maybe you’re trying to do the impossible. Maybe you’re surrounded by naysayers and assholes. Maybe you’re trying to find out how big your brave is, because you want something. Maybe you’re in love, but you don’t know how to say it—or those words just plain old scare you.

If you are, hear me right now: you are capable. You are worthy. You are a badass, and don’t let anyone make you think you don’t deserve what makes your heart race. You weren’t made to apologize or beg. You weren’t made to spend your life stooped and stuffed into a box. You were made to shine like a goddamn supernova.

Go out and do just that.

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  1. June 11, 2016 at 1:25 pm

    Awesome post. I struggle with doubts and fears. I find myself comparing myself to other writers and bloggers, thinking I’m never going to be as good as them. Even reading your post, I have my doubts on whether or not I can write something that inspiring. But I need to not compare myself to others. I need to remember that the writing process is unique to everyone. I can’t let fear dictate what I do and define who I am. That’s up to me.

    • June 11, 2016 at 3:07 pm

      Thank you! Remember, too, when you start to doubt — there’s only one YOU. No one else can write like you can, see things like you do. I’m paraphrasing Neil Gaiman, here, but you’re the only one who can write YOUR stories. And the world always needs more stories. Keep at it! And you’re absolutely correct that the writing process is different for everyone. Find what works for you, and do that! 🙂

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