Last week I wrote a post about an issue that, throughout most of my life, has hurt and plagued me. Weight. More specifically, my weight and how society, in general, views those that don’t conform to certain standards of beauty. On the surface it was an open letter to a gentleman that gawked at the size of my posterior (in a mean, prejudicial way), but underneath it was a message about acceptance.
After the post went up I received several lovely comments and messages from people who were moved or impacted by what I wrote… There are quite a few marvelous people in my life, so it shouldn’t surprise me that any number of them took the time to read my words and reach out to me in support. You never know, though. Sometimes is feels I fling these messages out into the ether and no one is aware of their existence. My voice is infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, after all, so even a couple of views feels like a home run!
Of the many kind comments extended, one, in particular, was especially meaningful to me. It came from someone I deeply admire and respect, someone who knows me well enough to read all the nuances of that blog post while not being close enough to lose objectivity. He reached out to me in an intelligent and witty rejoinder and wrote something that meant more than most any comment I’ve received on this blog. (You know who you are, and if you are reading this please accept my apology for not being able to properly convey how much gratitude I feel for your generous words!) Not only did he think my writing was beautiful (words *any* writer, no matter how amateur or seasoned loves to hear), but he told me I was brave.
Courageous. Valiant. Bold. Gutsy.
One of my mantras this year has been to try to approach life with less fear. I have even toyed with the idea of a tattoo to forever remind me of this philosophy. It’s not that I have lacked courage or conviction in the past. It’s not that I haven’t gone out of my comfort zone to accomplish something that was merely a hope or a dream. My nature, however, is to seek perfection and fear anything less. Often, in the past, that fear has paralyzed me. Kept me from goals I could have accomplished. Prevented me from fully pursuing passions or aspirations. I have been frozen in place by fear and allowed self-doubt and negativity to keep me from doing things I might otherwise do. Because I was not brave…
Bravery is difficult. It’s painful at times. Going out into the world determined to valiantly confront whatever comes your way does not automatically mean success. It is not a given. There is a Latin Proverb (perhaps originating from Virgil?) that states, “Fortune favors the brave.” (Or, one more literal translation, “Fortune helps the daring.”) According to myth, Fortuna, the Goddess of luck, is more likely to help those that take risks. My experience in the real world proves that this is sometimes false. Fortune does not necessarily favor the brave or help the daring. In spite of that, I believe it is true that success is *not* merely a matter of luck. Going out into the world bravely does seem to tilt the odds more in one’s favor…
So, this year was about chances. Taking greater risks. Trying to stare fear in the face and simply, be brave. Remembering, even in the midst of my fear, that failure is not fatal… In some respects, I feel I’ve made tremendous strides and dared more than I normally would. In other respects, it appears there is still a long way to go. As I try to redefine who I am and how I face the world, it is amazing and humbling to discover that someone out there actually noticed and took the time to tell me they thought that I was brave.