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.