Do a Brave Thing

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My secret is out.

I have a blog.

Or I should say, I’ve HAD a blog for seven months now and you’re just now finding out about it! The truth is, I hadn’t planned on ever sharing it with anyone. It was gonna be my hidden treasure amongst the trillions of pixels and web domains parading about the internet. But today, I invite you to it both excitedly and humbly for one reason: I accepted the challenge.

This story actually began a year ago, on my 21st birthday. My first day of Twenty-One was like filling your lungs with too much air and not wanting to let it out because you’ll never have that exact same breath again. It felt big. Important. And so, I made it my goal to challenge my fears that year. I got on elevators. Ate fear foods. Shot a gun. Sang a solo. Spoke from the stage. And I stopped sleeping in the basement during thunderstorms. I thought that I had done it all. That I had held nothing back….

Until a few weeks ago.

It was then that one of my dearest friends, who is also a blogger, sent out this challenge to all of her social media friends after a day of facing one of her longest-held fears:

“Do something brave today! Because being afraid isn’t a way to live; it’s only a way to wish that you had.”

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Several people reacted with brave stories of their own, while I just stared at her words; struck by the realization that I HAD been holding something back after all:

This Blog.

This blog where I’ve written my story. This blog where I’ve discovered my voice. This blog that I’ve kept hidden out of fear. This blog which is, ironically, all about being fearless.

So today, on my last day of being twenty-one, I’m not hiding it anymore. I’m going into twenty-two knowing that I left no fear unturned and no insecurity unchallenged.

This is it. This is my brave thing.

Now, I want to know yours! Help me continue this challenge by commenting your brave story either directly on this blog post or on Facebook and Instagram! It could be anything! Did you talk to someone new? Go for that interview? Stand up for what’s right? Play a piano solo? Or did you simply try an exotic food and experiment with a different style? Whatever it is, I want to know because I’m proud of you!

So go ahead! Comment! Tell me your story. Be fearless. ❤

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(I dedicate this, my first blog post to the world, to my dear friend Courtney. You’ve supported this space from the start and inspire me constantly by simply being you. <3)


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Summer is more a friend than a season. Winter is a season. Fall is a season. Spring is.

They all make their appearance and leave at the most inconvenient times. But not Summer. Summer comes right when you need it the most. Summer would stay forever, except for the fact that fall is selfish.

And I know Summer. I know how it thinks. Giving us the gift of longer days, in the hopes that we would see more, and in seeing more that we would feel more.

It dreams for us.

In the stars.

Even when we close our windows to their whimsical whisperings.

It’s misunderstood too. I know, because I’ve listened.

The Summer heat isn’t offered in merciless cruelty, but in compassion for the bitter days ahead. It can’t take us through the winter, but it can give us warmth for the road.

And I think I’m Summer’s favorite, although it would never say so out loud. When I want to see the ocean, the tree leaves roar like crashing waves. When I’m all alone, younger days become alive again just to be my family. And when I’m not the person I want to be, Summer reminds me of all that I’m becoming in the subtle moments of bravery accomplished within its realms.

I’m not sure why it loves me the most. Maybe because I took the time to get to know it. I’ve always treated it like a person, and not a mindless season that comes, goes, and doesn’t feel.

Or maybe it’s because I was born to its sunny skies right in the middle of July, and we’ve been connected ever since.

It was even there when I was born again. Watching. Celebrating.

I’m so thankful that I was born to a friend, and not to a season.

Whatever the case, Summer is my favorite too. ❤