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| My son, Declyn, being a superhero |
"You will either step forward into growth, or you will step backward into safety." ~Abraham Maslow
Be brave.
The idea has tantalized and even tortured me for nearly fifty years. It seems so simple, so clear, so obvious: step up and do what you think is right even when it frightens you. Done.
It seems clear and obvious, right? But only when I'm not feeling frightened and uncertain.
Fear and uncertainty muddy the waters and seeing clearly is not an option. In fact, when I am afraid, seeing anything at all is a challenge. I shrink inside myself and leave my body to stand there taking the brunt of things. My eyes are clouded, my head is dulled, my ears fill with cotton, and from far away in the dark I watch the unfolding of things through the murky vision of fear.
This type of extreme fear, I admit, does not happen often. But a more insidious version, an easier to justify version, does.
I noticed it when I was younger and my mom asked me to take my brothers places. I would want my brothers to have big wonderful lives, be welcomed in the world regardless of their uncommon behaviors, but I did not want to be seen failing at helping them learn or knowing what should be accepted. I would take them places when my mom asked, but I would spend the entire outing afraid and behaving for the viewers rather than for the proper growth of my brothers. And I never took them out if mom didn't ask. Not because I didn't want them to have opportunities provided by the outings, but because I was afraid of doing it wrong. No, of being seen doing it wrong.
So I would justify my fear in cruel ways. I'd think of my mom as crazy for expecting the world to be okay with our weirdo family, and I would think of myself as stupid and weak for not knowing what to do, and I would think of one day having kids of my own who I would parent so wonderfully the would not be as disruptive as my brothers. <--- Boy, was I wrong! My sons were wild and disruptive and it was mainly because of how I parented them.
Also, I notice the insidious fear when I want something to happen, or I have an idea I think is valuable and worth sharing, or I have a nudge I want to give my children - the water is muddied and I am unsure of myself. Can I push for what I want to happen? Are my ideas childish and completely unoriginal? Are my observations or suggestions even at all right for my children and their children? And so, because I am afraid, I might do or say nothing.
But this doesn't always feel like fear and, instead, can feel like being thoughtful or polite.
Well, sort of. The truth is I've grown to notice the difference. I can mostly tell when I am avoiding something out of fear vs when I'm not doing or saying something because it is maybe not good timing or simply not necessary to say or do.
Not only have I grown to notice the difference, but over the last few years I've overcome the fear more and more. I've begun to practice saying and doing things despite the fear. It's something that sort of happened for me even more because of the pandemic. I (along with so many others) was reminded that life could lock me down at any time and by being brave I would more likely be happy with the life I'm locked in.
It's been almost easy! And even though I am sometimes met with resistance, or I am sometimes left learning my ideas are silly or my understanding of a situation is wrong or what I am wanting to make happen isn't going to work, I am also mostly seeing my life respond by being more mine. More something I am an active player in creating and designing.
One tiny example: I want to work creatively with my love. At the moment we sit side by side working, and sometimes we work together, but I really love the idea of often working and creating together. I was afraid to say so because I didn't want to be a burden, or to put him in the position of saying he didn't want to champion my work, or something like that. Silly, I know. But fear is often silly. Anyway, I stepped through the fog of fear and said what I hoped for and, funnily enough, he was thinking of something similar. So, rather than wonder what would happen, now we'll see what will happen.
“You can’t walk gingerly. You have to step in and say I am gong to love you robustly, and we are going to get to the end of this!” ~Dr. Lynette Louise ("The Brain Broad")
My mom loves us robustly.
She took our family on outings and taught all of us how to be brave, how to ask for the world to accept who we are while teaching us to find ways to fit properly into the world. It is not cool to say, "Shut up and accept everything," and it is not cool to say, "We are strange and it frightens people so let's stay home," and instead, as with all things, there was a dance of learning, shifting, changing, trying, doing, doing, doing, that had to be done. For everyone everywhere we went. "We stretch people," mom would tell herself when she needed to remember it was worth the work of doing it well.
So, this new year I am going to stretch myself. I am going to love my life robustly. I am going to be brave. I am going to continue saying what I hope for, writing what I'm afraid isn't good, telling my thoughts to my sons even if maybe I've got it all wrong.
Mostly, though, I will be brave about the way I want to live.
Last year I came up with a new year idea that was similar. I gave myself a "Yes Week" every month wherein I would use the month to think about the stuff that was rolling around in my gut as issues perhaps worth speaking up about, and then I would use the last week to speak up about them. As expected, it worked! And as expected, it was not done in such an organized fashion, but it became a healthy habit.
Hence, the idea to be brave is not so scary to me this year. I mean, yes, I'm raising the bar for myself. I intend to be brave in more moments and with more things, but what would have scared the sh*t out of me ten years ago is not so scary to me now.
When I was a little girl I had a memorable, horrible, most painfully frightening nightmare: My mom was being attacked in our home by a cluster of evil clowns while I hid under a table. It stuck with me and was an exact example of what frightens me most about myself: That I am a coward. That I am not brave. That I will hide under a table because I am so afraid of being the one that is seen, the one that is hurt, the one who is the victim, that I will not move toward the scary chaos of clowns to help even the person I love most.
A version of this fear still visits me in nightmares but the better I get at stepping forward into growth, rather than stepping backward into safety, the less the nightmares affect me.
Looking over all my years I can see the influence I have on myself; the impressive impact these small promises I make to me can have. A few of my ideas fizzled (like the one where I vowed to buy myself one pair of pants a month so my pants wouldn't all have holes in them. I think I bought two pairs? But the fizzle wasn't me giving up, it was me realizing I didn't want what I thought I wanted.) but most of them have simply become a part of me. Nothing dramatic in the moment, just small trajectory shifts. Shifts that are dramatic in the long run.
So, I will be brave.
I will say the thing I want and I will share the idea I think is of value and I will nudge the child even if I might be wrong and I will write the story that might not be good.
I will not always be right or wise.
But I will be brave.
I will be brave and see if I like the influence I have on me and our lives.
Happy New Year to you, my wonderful friends!!!
I hope it brings you beautiful things!
