You Gotta Be Bold!

My sister Sam celebrated her 30th birthday this past weekend. She had a really hard time with it, which I couldn’t comprehend because she has never lived life in fear. One thing I have always admired about Sam is her ability to live boldly. What I mean by this is she lives life as herself, and she doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. Her life is free of the expectations of other people; she only answers to her own expectations.  I wished I was more like that. I have a habit of sometimes—I have been told too many times—caring what people think of me. While I would like to deny the truth of the statement, I have to admit that even though I try not to care, I do.

Truthfully, I have no fear mechanism. I watch murder mysteries—too much—and then go to bed. And I sleep relatively fine. Meaning I don’t have nightmares after watching them. Though, the Ted Bundy Tapes were too disturbing for me, and I have yet to watch the Aaron Hernandez documentary, even though I want to. Although I have no fear mechanism, I have no boldness mechanism.

I have done things to push me into bravery and out of my comfort zone. I wrote and published a book. I had a book signing in which I talked to complete strangers about my novel. I traveled and lived out of the country on my own. If you know the story, that trip to Greece may have been the bravest thing I have ever done. Then I went back. I have accomplished difficult things:  4 degrees, which required a lot of public speaking and presenting arguments.  Hell, I am going swimming with sharks. People tell me I am crazy for wanting to do so. Then, I watch as their eyes get bigger when I tell them I am going to cuddle one. Sharks are misunderstood, so I want to learn to understand them. I am not afraid.

I have done other things out of my comfort zone. Some of which I am not sure how I was convinced to do them. When I was in 6^th grade, my best friend Melissa convinced me to sing and dance to “Any Man of Mine” by Shania Twain in a school talent show. We got dressed up in boots and country vests and danced in front of the whole school. I don’t like dancing in front of people. I am a terrible dancer. I have no rhythm. When I was in 7^th grade, my chorus teacher signed me up to sing, “Take My Breath Away” at the school talent show. I remember violently shaking in the spotlight. The song had to start three times before I began singing.  I hate my voice, so singing in public is worse than dancing in public.  Defending my dissertation was totally out of my element. I knew everything I was presenting, but having someone question my expertise was not something I was totally prepared for—mostly because I wasn’t sure what my committee was going to ask (a whiskey Apple Jack helped calm those nerves). My friend has asked me to edit her dissertation, which is bold for me because I have never edited a dissertation before. I can’t wait for the opportunity and to help her move forward in her dissertation process. I also can’t wait for my dissertation to be discoverable, so I can share my hard work and expertise with more people.

What scares me is being vulnerable: opening up myself to someone for the potentiality of getting hurt.  I’ve done so in the past and had my heart broken. Badly. I know to move forward in life I need to keep opening up myself and allow the possibility of hurt. I feel like every time I get close to doing so, I flee. I retreat into my own personal bubble of safety. I would like to say I do so because of the actions of other people, but it’s me.

Because of this, I don’t think many people know the real me. (My alter Morganitis does come out on occasion).  I want to show people Morgan, but I am not sure how to. I am quirky. I do dance: badly, in my room. I do sing: not so badly, also in my room. I write down all my emotions. Short stories, novels, poetry, and blogs. I even share my writing with others, at times, which I am told is brave. To me, vulnerability means showing emotion, which I am also not good at. I am stoic. Defense mechanisms are funny things. I have a habit of pushing people away, even though I don’t want to. I have been trying not to do that, but old habits are hard to break. I know the reasons behind protecting myself by not letting my guard down. I know showing vulnerability to others is hard—everyone struggles with it—but I also know it is worth it. Even though I have been hurt from allowing myself to be vulnerable in the past, it was worth it. I grew from those experiences, and the hurt has made me a stronger and more empathetic person.

Being bold is something I have been trying to work on for a while, and being vulnerable is a huge part of that.  I have let my friends convince me to sing karaoke, though they will argue how much karaoke was sung (I stood on the stage while my friend sang), I have tried new things, and I learned “The Cupid Shuffle,” which I was terrible at, but I let myself have fun. Being carefree is a huge step to vulnerability .  I appreciate my friends have pushed me out of my comfortability, and I owe them a karaoke song. Haha. I bought a red bikini and leather pants. Bold fashion choices for me. You have to start somewhere, right? Letting people into my house–into my space–for my graduation party is a test of my vulnerability. I am afraid of people seeing they might be disappointed in.

One of my biggest vulnerability issues is this: I am vulnerable, or I am not, then I relive the moments in my mind. Over and over again. It’s both annoying and exhausting, and I wish it would stop. I know in my heart, though, if I were to live in more boldness, the overthinking and overanalyzing would stop as well. Boldness is easier said than done.

I have never had a problem speaking my mind, especially when I know I am right. Which is most of the time 😉 But, as I have learned, I need to learn to be kinder in my truthfulness. I have been accused of being crass and heartless: neither of which are characteristics I do not want to be known for, nor do I think I am either of those things.  Being relatable to people is how I can help them live more fulfilling lives.

This month, our church had 21 days of prayer. A theme was chosen for each day and discussed. I didn’t find out until after it started, but I did my own version. Truthfully, I am terrible at praying. When you are a thinker, a quiet brain doesn’t happen often. Praying requires a peaceful mind.  One of the themes I chose was boldness. Day 19. I really liked what my study on the subject taught me. Boldness is the courage to act or speak fearlessly despite real or imagined dangers, and acing regardless of the risks. Hurt is an imagined danger. A broken heart can be survived. I have done it before, so I know I could do it again. I can’t be rash or aggressive, but I must be assertive. Assertiveness empowers someone to speak and do what is necessary  in spite of possible negativity. Life has enough negativity, I need to be positive. I vow from this moment on to be more bold. To live more fearlessly, more like Sam. I will sing and dance even when people are looking. I will let people hear my crazy laugh. I will dance in the rain and in my cowboy boots. I will say yes more and no less. I will open myself up to people.  To hurt and to life.

As a first step, I am going to share a poem I wrote about lack of boldness. It is taking everything in me to share this poem with you, so please be kind.

Should Haves

(Written 1/17/2020)

I should have held his hand

when he offered me his,

but I let fear hold me instead.

Haunted by past hurts:

old patterns; unchanged results.

I should have said

how I felt, what I meant;

I opened up, shut down:

felt foolish and ashamed,

retreated to privacy, safety.

I should not have hesitated—

should have let destiny in—

I should have been unafraid.

I did it all wrong:

ran away, took time (too much time),

fleeing the benefit of the doubt.

I can’t regret or should have.

Love fell in our hands;

life had other plans.

Should haves find their way

of getting away from us.

I know it has to be this way

because life is not lived

for what should have been,

but for what could be.

Life is better this way:

lived and loved.