Words by Allyson

I've been really quiet in this space for a long time. It's mostly because I don't know what to say. I feel like I'm in transition. It seems like everything in my life is tentative and could change at any moment, thus I'm far too afraid to say anything for fear of it changing and having to recant. This nervousness seemed to have seeped into every part of my life. I'm distracted. I find even the simplest of decisions leaves me a bit unsure. More often than I'd like to admit, I just don't make a decision. And if I think about things too much, I start to feel really lost.

The thing is nothing is actually changing.

That's what happens when you don't make decisions -- nothing changes. And all of this anxiety is energy poorly spent.

Last week, I met up with a friend from BYU who has just recently moved to DC. We got to talking a bit about what we were like the last time we'd seen each other two years ago, back when I was working on being Brave. It's a conversation I've been replaying in my head. For a little while, I remembered what that felt like.

While I certainly don't think the past two years have been a mistake or a failure, my chest feels hollow when I think about the person I was and why those habits that I worked so hard to form are fading. They're not all gone, but I'm not nearly as dedicated to it now. WHY? Why did I lose sight of one of the best decisions I've ever made, a decision that I have never once regretted?

I want to do that again. I want those habits to become second nature like they used to be, and I don't want to lose the skills I already have.

Here's to making decisions, and being Brave again.

I read Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie for the first time when I was in high school. I absolutely loved it, but it completely broke my heart. I just wanted Peter to come home to the Darlings. I never understood why Peter didn't want to be a man.  In many ways, I still don't get it.

I've been thinking about the concept of growing up. For me, growing up is really fulfilling. It makes me feel competent and confident, even in the midst of my fear and frustration.

I guess in some ways I'm like Wendy, of whom Barrie writes, "You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than the other girls."

image via

In The Year I Lived Bravely, I embraced wearing skinny jeans because I really liked how my hips look in them.  I looked people in the eye, instead of at the ground.  I called Mom just a little less and wrote things in my journal a little more, trying to get through things without complaining as much (whether or not I succeeded is less certain).  I made friends with that person, in fact several people, I had wanted to talk to for a long time, but had been too shy.  In The Year I Lived Bravely, I told someone on the street that her tag was sticking out of her sweater, and helped a man pick up books when the shelf broke at the bookstore.  I ran my first 5k.  I started voicing the complimentary things I think, but never would have said out loud.
In The Year I Lived Bravely, I did ridiculous things.  I read Shakespeare and joined my first intramural team.  I sang karaoke, which I'm still embarrassingly proud of.  I told a girl I didn't know that I really liked her eyebrows.  I jumped off the high-dive at Wakulla Springs for the first time in a very long time.  I took a class on economic history, which was a mistake but I still passed! I answered the phones at work (which takes all sorts of bravery when you've been out of practice).  I convinced Grandma to take a selfie with me.  I wore red lipstick for the first time.
In The Year I Lived Bravely, I packed my things, said goodbye to some of the best people I've ever known, and moved 1800 miles. I wrote lots of angsty and depressing posts on this blog because that's what I was feeling, which is embarrassing, but I didn't want to lie about it.  I finally made friends. I got started looking for inspiration everywhere, and found things to get excited about.  In The Year I Lived Bravely, I tried to keep better contact with my siblings and friends.  I wrote letters and made phone calls.  I said yes to hard things, and yes to the easy ones, because just because it's easy doesn't mean you shouldn't do it.
In The Year I Lived Bravely, I have said more prayers and cried more tears than I think ever before.  I have taken more showers when I need to think things through, because what better place to think than to shower.  I have asked more questions and learned more truths, and stopped believing things that were false.  I stretched further than I thought I could.  I stopped myself from saying things I shouldn't say and convinced myself to say the things I needed to.  I apologized more often and quicker than I ever had.  I also smiled more than ever.  I smiled in relief that certain things were over. I smiled because I had done something I didn't think I could do.  I smiled simply because I had more things to be happy about than things to upset by.  I tried to trust God and remember just how wonderful He is, because He always took care of me.  Always.
And life was so much better.  Everything about it.  I had way better stories to tell at the end of the day.  My Pinterest boards are way cooler.  My music library expanded , and I now have a taste for carrots and hummus.  I'm way better at the hard stuff, like keeping conversation going and navigating a public restroom.  I talk to people I don't know (though not usually in public restrooms).  I say prayers out loud in my car and at my desk and quietly in the corners of crowded rooms.  I'm happy.
And I'm sad to see it go.  I'm sad that in a few days, The Year I Lived Bravely will be over, and somehow I'll have to keep being brave without that distinction.  But I certainly will keep going.

Robert Henri wrote in The Art Spirit that "it takes a tremendous amount of courage to be young, to continue growing-- not to settle and accept."  And I think he understood what I took an entire year to learn.  That life is better, more fulfilling, more exciting, and flourishes when you're Brave.

I don't think it's really a secret that moving here has been quite an experience for me.  Things I thought would be a cinch gave me some trouble, and the things I expected to be challenging lived up to my expectations.

But one thing I can say is I have definitely had to keep being Brave.

Participating in class.  Making friends with the other people in my program when some of them are more than twice my age.  Making friends with anyone, really.  Wearing my high-top sneakers without feeling silly.  Really owning my personality and being completely confident in who I am.  Trying to drive anywhere more than 3 miles away.  Being vulnerable and honest about this whole thing.  And being persistent through all of the discouragement.

At this point, I'm realizing that I could not have picked a better year to start being Brave.  I'm not sure I could do this without it.

Also, I have to say that taking these pictures was ridiculously fun.  Shout out to little Rachel for her mad photography skills, and to Virginia for being so gorgeous.

Today in the public library I picked up a book, The Society of Timid Souls or How To Be Brave by Polly Morland.

And what is on the front cover?

I spent a fantastic week at my parents house in Florida, before Mom, Sister, and I drove up to Virginia.  Today we walked around campus, and I have a feeling I'm going to like it here.  I also have a feeling this is going to be nothing like the past three years. And that's okay.

These past few days haven't necessarily been easy. It seems that one moment I'm feeling fine and confident, and the next I'm fighting back tears and trying to keep my cool (usually failing miserably). I've said about a million prayers and I'm grateful that my Heavenly Father has answered every single one. I'm not entirely sure what I've been afraid of, but I do know that this experience is stretching me already further than I anticipated. Doubtless I'll have more hard days, but I'm pretty excited to see what I can do at the end of this thing.

This summer held a lot of Brave moments for me.

I made friends with people that intimidated me and opened up to friends and family about some of my worries.

I killed a really big bug when everyone else was afraid.

I let myself relax and show the parts of my personality that are a little more out there and I wasn't ashamed.

I'm glad this summer helped to give me more experience being Brave because very soon I'm doing the Bravest thing I've ever done.

In two short weeks, I begin graduate school in Fairfax, Virginia.  It seems a bit mad that I've been thinking about this for over a year now, and now I'm going. A smile on my face, syllabi in hand, and truthfully a million butterflies in my stomach, I'm heading somewhere completely new.  I'm excited and terrified at the same time.

But I know that I can do it if I'm Brave.

I've been in desperate need of a new swimsuit for a little while now.  On Monday, I put on my big girl pants and went swimsuit shopping all by myself.  It was miserable.  It seemed that my only options were to bare everything or look I was entering a convent--neither of those options were exactly appealing.  On top of that I'm convinced that swimsuit shopping is the way that Satan has designed to make women who are already insecure feel even worse about themselves.  I ended up crying in 3 different dressing rooms, found nothing, and I pinched my finger in a door.  When I met up with my brother afterward, I could barely contain myself.

I was hesitant to go back, but I still didn't have a swimsuit which just seems sinful as a Floridian.  So today I went out again but I was PREPARED!  Last night, one of the girls from the camp where I work gave me a few nice notes.  On the envelope, she told me not to open one until I needed a pick-me-up.  I read one before I even walked into a shop, just to help me start on a good note (yes, that's a bit pathetic. no, I don't have qualms about admitting it on the Internet). 

The note completely made my day.  I smiled, walked into a store, and ended up buying the first suit I tried on.  And it felt good.

image via

"I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship."
                                                                                  -Louisa May Alcott


image via

This is one of my favorite historical photographs, from twenty-four years ago today.  Thanks for your bravery Tank Man.  You inspire me.

I sang karaoke for the first time ever this weekend.

And it wasn't bad.

I mean, I wasn't great, but I wasn't embarrassed.  In fact, I actually had a lot of fun.

I even did (part of) a song all by myself.  I should tell that I have not sung by myself in front of an audience since my senior year of high school, and even then I only did it once.

I was just smiling the whole time because I couldn't believe I'd done it.  And THAT is why I wanna be Brave.

image via

image via

Brave has come to a standstill.

She's not brave anymore.  She doesn't even try to be.

And it's silly and dumb.

She could be so much more than she is if she would.

I want to be so much more.

Let's start over and be Brave again.  I like myself better when I am.

image via

While doing some reading today, the book cited this quotation:


Isn't that the case with Brave?  You think there's no possible way your can do something, but you wish you could.  Then you imagine yourself doing it.  And once you've gathered all the strength you can muster, you do it.  It's wonderful and exciting and scary, and you wonder why you didn't take that step sooner.  At least, that's what happens to me.

image via

I failed.  For the first time since I started trying to be brave, it didn't pan out.  I was brave, but magical things didn't happen like they normally do.  Instead, I was embarrassed.  I didn't even know what to say.  I don't remember if I said anything.  And I realized what I've known for a long time, but what is sometimes hard to come to terms with.  That is that sometimes it just doesn't work out.  Other people get to make choices too.  I won't deny that I think I'm a little gun-shy now.

That's not to say it was bad.  Quite frankly, that's probably the bravest I've felt through this whole entire experiment.  So it was worth it.

Caspar David Friedrich, Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, 1818

I've been thinking about this post for a long time, and I've written drafts of it several times.  But each time, I chicken out and delete it.  So here it goes . . .

Do you ever have that moment when you realize that maybe you're not going to make it?

I love my major.  Every day, every reading assignment, every research paper I'm reminded that I definitely made the right decision.  I love knowing what happened, and I like the kind of person I am now that I know.  Studying history has completely changed my life.

But then, almost on a daily basis now, somebody asks me, "Oh, you're a history major?  Well what are you gonna do with that?" My insides clench and every ounce of gumption disappears.  My lungs suddenly seem restricted, and my heart sinks and pounds at the same time.  Then I tell them I want to do museum work, archiving, teaching.  They smile and walk away and I breathe a sigh of relief that it's over.  But a few hours later, when I'm working on an assignment, or in the quiet of my walk home from school, that fear creeps up again.  And a voice, a really awful voice in the back of my head says


Invariably tears follow (usually in public because that's how lucky I am) and a phone call to my mother ensues shortly thereafter.  And it hurts. A lot.  More than I should let it.  I get this vision of me ten or fifteen years down the road working in retail, or as a secretary. Dissatisfied. Not because they're bad jobs, they're just not what I want.

So I intend to work until I get what I want.

Today marks one whole month since I blogged about being Brave.

Being Brave is fantastic.

Brave wears a bright orange coat that makes her stick out on campus.




Brave meets lots of people, but sometimes they forget her name.

Brave participates in class even when her professor makes her feel foolish.

Brave plays on her older brother's water polo team even though she's awful. And secretly (or not so secretly) enjoys it.


Brave's heart rate is probably faster than it should be because of all of the excitement.

Brave looks people in the eye when she talks to them.

Brave goes to a concert even when she doesn't think she belongs and has a blast! (And Brave has a wonderful friend who invites her to said awesome concert.)

Brave tells everyone about being brave because she likes it a lot.

Brave has better stories to tell her mom when she calls, and Brave laughs and smiles a lot more.



Brave is not perfect, and sometimes she forgets her name and goes back to being Timid.

But when she needs it most, Brave remembers she is Brave.  Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

So here's to many more months of bravery.

Photos via

So I set a lot of goals for this year.  And while I don't want to share all of them, I'll let you in on one of my favorites.  I want to be Brave this year.

Not brave like Robin Hood or Batman or Harry Potter. I want to be Brave like Allyson.

I want to ask the questions I've been too scared to think about.
  What do you want?
  What are you doing poorly?
  Are you spending your time the right way?

I want to talk to that person who I'm dying to be friends with, but I've been too shy.


I want to think bigger, go further, and smile more than I ever have before.


I want to wear the clothes I've always dreamed of and sing the songs that speak to me without fear.

Michael Kors

Monique Lhuillier

Valentino

I want to be vulnerable, and be OK with being vulnerable.

I want to help people, and not be afraid of what they will think of me.

I want to own my awkwardness and my quirks that I hide from everyone.

I want to take risks and trust God that things will be okay.

Today, I was Brave.  I met six new people today. SIX! I don't remember the last time I had enough confidence to walk up to 6 strangers and say, "I don't think I've met you yet, I'm Allyson."  And guess what?  Not one of them was mean.  Not one was rude.  Sure, it was a little bit awkward, but I met them and they met me.  I liked being brave today.

photos via 
photo via