What comes to mind when you hear the word Brave?

I’m working my way through 100 Days to Brave by Annie F. Downs. In today’s entry she encourages readers to journal about two or three incidents in your life that might be labeled brave.

I recently watched the Disney movie Brave with my 3 year old granddaughter, who also has curly red hair like the main character Merida.

We watched Merida be brave in several ways. She wanted to learn activities traditionally belonging to men like archery. She rode a horse. She fought for her family. None of these brave acts were the same. She was brave in big and little ways.

What about you? Does your definition of brave leave room for little acts of bravery or only big ones?

Sometimes being brave means admitting I have needs. Asking for help was deemed a sign of weakness, a ‘less than’ statement growing up. One of my early memories of having a need was coming into the house after I had fallen down skinning my knees to the point of bleeding (again) and having my mom tell me that the Bactine and bandaids were in the bathroom. I was seven. Now mind you I was a rough and tumble kid. She was probably tired of my superficial wounds. But her response stuck with me.

Childhood memories can become story starters for the way we look at things as an adult. Being brave is admitting the story we're telling ourselves may not be accurate. Click To Tweet

The story I told myself about my depression was not an encouraging one. My inner critic was a nonstop voice of self-recrimination looping through my thoughts. “What’s wrong with you?” was on an infinite loop in my head. I had a hard time focusing. A hard time finding joy. A hard time admitting I needed help.

I’ve been reading 100 Days to Brave. Today Annie wrote of her move from Georgia to Nashville, TN. She shared how hard the move was. A line from the page really resonated with me

I never felt brave. But day after day, I just did the next thing, took the next step, said the next yes.

I used to think that moving was a great adventure, that it was an opportunity to learn new things, meet new friends and have more fun. That was until we moved from our home of 15 years, emptying our nest and relocating all in a couple of months. I had no idea how hard it would be to make a new start in a new area. Nothing was familiar. Finding a grocery store became a chore; finding my way around became more than I wanted to face most days, so I slipped, ever so slowly, down the slope into depression.

It took several months before I admitted I needed help. Thankful for the internet I found a Christian counselor who has helped me work through my depression and other areas of emotional need that I had hidden away.

Maybe that’s you, suffering in silence. Maybe your brave act is to admit you have a need, to tell someone. That is no small act of bravery.

One of my favorite sayings is ‘Awareness is the first step to change’.

Remember what Annie said:

I never felt brave. But day after day, I just did the next thing, took the next step, said the next yes.

She also encourages her readers to think back on your life and journal about two or three moments you or someone else might label brave.

You’re more than welcome to tell me. No one sees the comments until I first read them, so if you want to share, but don’t want your comment posted, you can tell me and it won’t be.

Be brave my friend.