My idea of brave has not only changed over the years, but has morphed into something different even today. It’s become more of an understanding, than a definition. Maybe even an epiphany. Brave is not the same for everyone. I picture it being a lot like thresholds of pain tolerance, actually. A place in our life where joy and fear intersect, causing us to make a choice to either move forward or move backward.
I also understand that sometimes, brave is just making a decision to do something, rather than do nothing. In Sarah Bareilles’ new single, Brave, she poses a simple question.
“How big is your brave? “
Brave is being present, it’s listening with my heart and not just my mind. Brave is being a parent to my children and not their friend. It is getting out of bed some mornings, and turning off the light some nights. It’s holding my tongue when spoken to unkindly and it’s asking for forgiveness when I know I’ve hurt another. Brave is admitting I made a mistake. Brave is pushing my body out of its comfort zone, it is crossing the finish line of my first 5k, 10k and half marathon. It is accepting that not every day is going to be happy. It is admitting when I have had too many sad days in a row and it is telling my children that it is okay to cry. Brave is getting divorced, getting married and having children at all. It is moving away from my family, learning to make new friends, and letting go of those that steal my joy. Brave is giving myself permission to find my own journey of faith, love unconditionally, and teach my children to accept others without judgement. It is making decisions about my children’s educational, mental and physical well-being even when others disagree. Brave is letting my kids fail. It is also pushing them to succeed. Brave is letting go, being silly and completely transparent with my closest friends.
Brave is writing this blog.
My brave feels huge. My brave belongs to me, and my brave will not be diminished by anyone else’s definition of bravery.