Brave

BRAVE
It takes courage to be weak. Confused by that statement? It’s understandable. Society so often teaches us that to be brave is not simply a matter of overcoming our fears, it’s refusing to acknowledge that we have them to begin with. We are told that being strong means that you “suck it up, walk it off” and that you don’t burden anyone else with your fear or your pain. I call bullshit on that.

I have learned that being truly brave and strong means taking a leap of faith with those you love and…

Asking for help when you are in need or in pain and actually letting someone help you or be there for you

Admitting you are broken (at least for the time being)

Letting them see the cracks in your veneer that you work so hard to hide

Having your heart broken over and over again and still having the capacity to love with the ferocity of an unbridled storm.

Surviving trauma that runs the gamut from the ordinary to the horrific (let’s face it, pain is pain) and still moving forward with the belief that life is a gift

Sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning is an act of bravery and strength.

I didn’t always feel this way. When I was a child, I visited hospitals far more than the average kid my age due to a medical condition. I appeared fragile and younger than my years. I was, for a time, dependent on others- much more so than I needed to be but I believed I wasn’t capable of more. Add to that an involuntary tendency to feel things very deeply which often resulted in uncontrollable tears and its not surprising that I believed I was weak. At some point I began to associate being vulnerable with being weak and worked hard to align my actions with society’s view of strength and courage. I fought hard to be independent and to be the opposite of what I was as a child.  I made sure that most people only saw the parts of me that I felt comfortable exposing. My warm and open demeanor belied the fact that I was secretly building up walls which would take years to knock down.

But as I got older and my relationships matured and became more complex, I realized that in order to truly thrive and be happy I had to open up the dark, disturbing corners of my soul to others. I had to take a leap of faith and let the mask slip with those I cared about and wanted to have a deep, abiding relationship with- be they friend, family member, or lover.

I started small with just a few people close to me. When I felt pain and needed help, I was tempted to paste that smile on my face and pretend that I was ok. Most of the people I turned to at first probably had no idea how daunting it was to put myself in such a vulnerable position. Actually admitting that I was in pain and/or asking for help was terrifying. It was akin to bungee jumping. You know that hundreds before you have taken the plunge and the cord has held but there is no guarantee that it will hold for you. Truth be told, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes people let you down and walk away. Yet I have found that more often than not, the “cord” does hold. Some of those that have turned away as a result of my vulnerability were not the friends I thought they were. Some were good people who-for whatever reason-were simply not ready or able to interact with me in that way at that time. Funny how removing our mask forces the hand of those around us so that one way or another, their mask is removed as well.

Being open, honest and vulnerable is not only an act of bravery and strength, it’s an act of love. It gives others permission to also share all of themselves – even the perceived icky parts. Allowing someone close to you to utilize their talents and strengths to help you when in need fosters greater trust and strengthens the bond between two people. When you think about it, it’s not really fair to allow and/or expect others to bare their soul to you and not be willing to share on that same level in return.

I’d be a hypocrite if I said I had perfected the art of being brave. Like anything else, being good at something takes practice. But the beauty of this concept of courage and strength is that you don’t have to be perfect. All you have to do is make a sincere effort. If you stumble (which I have done many times) you just pick yourself up and try again. Besides, isn’t false bravado and an unending need to be or at least appear perfect a catalyst for our suffering in the first place?

What it really comes down to for me is that I don’t want to look back at the end of my life and fear that I was never truly loved and accepted by those around me because I never gave them a chance to love me unconditionally and completely. I need to share the whole package that is me rather than just pieces in order for someone to have the opportunity to fully accept all of me as I am.

So if being completely transparent and sharing my pain and darkness (along with my light) with those I love is weak by society’s standards, call me a lightweight and watch me step into the ring that is this beautiful, crazy world. I guarantee that I will outlast those who let their fears inhibit them. At the very least, I will likely enjoy and experience life with a depth that they don’t because when you numb the pain you also numb the joy. Whereas those who are emotionally brave by society’s standards will rely only on themselves to heal their wounds, I will have an arsenal of people helping to pick me up when I fall. When all is said and done I will walk away with my head held high and a smile on my face knowing that it is my “weakness” that has afforded me the peace of mind that comes from being brave and strong.