bravery found her this year
fear was still there, but so was she.
This year, I’ve met so many versions of myself. Some were tired. Some were hopeful. Some were just trying to get through the day without completely falling apart. But if I had to choose a favorite, it would be the brave one.
For a while, I thought these versions were signs of weakness, proof that I was falling apart. But as the year comes to a close, I see them differently now. They were all part of becoming someone braver.
There’s someone I met who once called me Brave, like the Disney movie Brave. The princess there is named Merida and she has orange hair. We met when my hair was orange, and he said I had a strong personality. I laughed it off back then. I didn’t see it. I didn’t feel brave. I just felt like I was surviving.
Now, it makes sense.
Bravery didn’t show up in grand gestures or dramatic moments. It arrived quietly, disguised as things I used to avoid.
I learned how to do things even when fear was sitting right beside me.
Going to cafés alone. Taking a bus or jeep home until I’m the only passenger left, just me, the driver, and my thoughts spiraling a little too loudly. Handling situations that were uncomfortable, confusing, and emotionally heavy, without disappearing or abandoning myself.
For the longest time, I thought courage meant not being afraid. But I’ve learned that fear doesn’t disappear just because you’re ready. Fear stays. Your hands still shake. Your chest still tightens.
The difference now is that I move anyway.
I do it scared.
One of the hardest things for me was meeting new people and sharing my story. I was afraid of being seen, of being judged, of opening parts of myself I worked so hard to protect. I almost didn’t go to the PREX seminar. I was scared of unfamiliar faces, of speaking up, of standing in my truth.
But I went anyway.
I said yes.
Little did I know that saying yes to that seminar, and to God, would gently begin my healing. It wasn’t instant. It wasn’t loud. It was quiet and steady, like learning how to breathe again.
Healing didn’t arrive as a grand moment. It came softly, in small yeses, in ordinary days, in choosing to stay.
As the New Year begins, I’m not stepping into it as someone who has everything figured out. I’m stepping into it as someone who learned how to be brave in the middle of fear.
I’m still scared sometimes. I still have heavy days. But now I know I can do things scared.
And somehow, that version of me, the one who shows up despite the fear, is the one I’m most proud of. Not because she’s fearless, but because she chooses herself, again and again.
This year didn’t make me fearless.
It made me brave.