Some people think I’m brave, but they’re wrong.

Some people think I’m brave, but they’re wrong.

I’m the most fearful person I know.

I cling to safety with a grasp so tight it would kill a man in six seconds flat.

“Oh but you’ve traveled the world and moved across the country. You’ve gone into red light districts and camped in Africa. You’ve done everything!” they say. “Of course you’re brave!”

Nope. I’ve had my moments, sure, but the truth is I live my life based on fear.

Don’t believe me? Let me air out some of my dirty laundry for a second. This isn’t the kind of dirty laundry that you throw in the hamper before a guest comes over. This is the dirty laundry that you find in the trunk of your car two months after a camping trip. The kind I never want to admit exists.

Today is February 21, 2014. Since the New Year I have been somewhere on the spectrum of casually worried to freaking out that I : 1) have cancer of the diaphragm, 2) am having a heart attack, and 3) have a brain tumor. I have checked to make sure my napping father is breathing at least six times, not exercised because I believed my heart was going to explode, thought my power steering was about to go out in my car and made an exit plan, deleted messages before they sent, and sat in piles of financial papers multiple times with sharpies and calculators figuring out if I was going to make it. I have enough airline miles for a FREE round trip international flight, and they’re just sitting there in my account because I fully believe whatever plane I board will crash.

And those examples are just off the top of my head.

That’s my reality. Fear.

And you know what? I’m done. Fear and worry have stifled me for far too long.

I’ve said that before with little to no avail. I’ve gotten on planes in tears (oh wait, that’s every time) yelling at my soul with all my might to stop being afraid. But I’ve been shaky, panicky, and embarrassed. I’ve tried to convince myself my heart’s not going to explode on the jog, but I’ve stopped and checked my pulse more times than I would gladly admit with shame exploding all over me, rather than my heart.

Shame. He’s the best friend of Fear and the cousin of Depression. And they have no place in my house anymore.

But shunning Fear hasn’t worked very well for me. It’s like when someone says, “Try not to think about a purple elephant.” Yeah right. Not going to happen. So I’ve decided on a new tactic.

Bravery.

We’ve kinda just met, so I can’t tell you a lot about him. But he seems pretty cool. And he’s not really what I expected. He doesn’t march around, chest out, sword in tow, speaking in Old English about his quest to avenge the fallen.

He’s kinda… I don’t know… like a hippie. (Minus the LSD.)

“Like, whatever girl. Let’ just go jump off the waterfall into the lake!” (Do hippies say that?)

“But aren’t you scared?” I question.

“Of course I’m scared. Courage isn’t the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.”

Okay, okay, so maybe that was Nelson Mandela and not my pretend hippy friend, but you get the picture.

Regardless, Bravery is cool. He doesn’t worry about things or always assume the worst will happen. And he doesn’t preach at me either. There are no “God wrote for us to not fear 365 times in the Bible because he wants us to not fear every day of the year” conversations or “Jeeze, Stephanie, I thought you trusted Jesus, you sure don’t act like it” guilt trips. None. We just go on adventures. You know why? This.

(and our God is really good.)

So I’ve decided to be brave this year. Because Fear is stupid and he’s a liar. While I’m under no illusion he’ll leave me alone this year, I’m done carrying his books and holding the door open for him. We’re not friends.

This year, I’m going to become best friends with Bravery.

I’m going to be brave. Every single day. Some days, it’ll be in little things like exercising anyway, writing that article that scares me, or trying out a new recipe. Other days, it’ll be bigger things like starting my own business (check), getting a tattoo (maybe), or getting on a plane again (gulp.)

But whatever it is each day, I want to be brave. Even if it’s just for 20 seconds.

And I’m going to chronicle my journey.

I’ll be using #bebrave2014 when I post about doing something that scares me.

I won’t document every single thing (you don’t need to know when I give someone feedback or write to someone I haven’t talked to in a while), but I want to be held accountable.

And frankly, I want you to join in.

Some people think I’m brave, but they’ve been wrong far too long.

 

#BeBrave2014 so far:

– Ending a full time job

– Starting a business

– Exercising

– Running a video camera when I’m not good yet

– Starting photography again

– Telling you I want to be brave

 

Side note: I’ve recently become aware that #BeBrave2014 was a commercial at the Grammy’s. I had no idea. But I don’t mind sharing great stories in a community of bravery, so let’s keep it going!