Brave.

brave 2

I used to think of bravery as something big and loud.  Screaming from rooftops.  Standing tall and still and unwavering.  Fearless.  It’s easy to picture this superhero archetype,  but it sells bravery short.

More often than not, bravery looks a lot more like this:

  • The woman who writes openly and honestly about depression and anxiety.  No pretense or flowery prose, just the desire to share her truth in case it makes someone else feel less alone.  It would have been easier to be silent.
  • The friend who goes back to the doctor to get the test results.  It was good news, but she didn’t know that walking in to the appointment.  It would have been easier to ignore it.
  • The student who disregards the prompt for her final essay and writes the story of how she found her way back to “okay” this semester.  It would have been easier to dial it in.

More times that not, bravery stands still right in front of us and does the hard thing simply because it knows in its soul it’s right. It may shake and sputter and turn inelegantly red in the face, but it stands there anyway.  Quiet.  Unmovable.

I would love to hear your thoughts on bravery in the comments below.  Also, since this is likely stuck in your head, enjoy!

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