Brave New World - Part 1

I want to chat about being brave.

Or courageous.

Or strong.

Or anything the crafty second graders call us cancer patients in their wonderful handmade cards distributed at hospitals.

I want to chat about being brave, but something rather uncomfortable is in my way. I can’t talk about bravery if I don’t talk about fear first. And fear is not my favorite topic despite my intense, non-consensual exposure therapy to it.

I can admit, I have a lot of pride in my courage and very minimal in my fears.

I spent the better part of two years telling people that I wasn’t even scared, “just nervous”, as if fearlessness–or feigning it–was the definition of bravery. Honestly, now it just seems like a slight definition match for psychopathy or a really, really stupid lie.

I was scared when they told me it was cancer. And I was scared when I had to call doctors on the phone. I was scared every time the plane took off to Boston and when the doctor told me that, because I’m an adult, I had to be the one to make decisions bigger than the 26 years of experience I held. I was scared of signing a living will, and I still get slightly scared when they prick me with a tiny needle. I am scared of the way people look at me. And while I’m being honest, I'll probably be scared posting this. I have a lot to be scared about. If cancer is running through your veins so is fear.

(I will say, on a lighter note, I am the only person I know who scrolls through a WebMD article for whatever mysterious ailment and when hit with the ominous doom of, “in some rare cases, it could be cancer,” doesn’t even flinch.)

Despite this reality, I desperately tried to separate the adrenaline of courage with the depths of fear, with a terribly weak smile. In my mind, there was a harsh red line splitting the two, and crossing it was admitting I am not as strong as the second graders think.

I’m not sure where I got the quote–I want to say some antique book from a corner library, but it was probably Pinterest during work hours–but it fundamentally changed my take on fear: “If you can’t beat fear, do it scared.”

The harsh red line dissipated.

It just made sense. It invalidates the insecurity and performance of pretending your pulse isn’t racing or your heart isn’t dropping or there aren’t tears oozing into your waterline. In reality, courage actually is the reaction to the presence of fear. Simply put, you have to be scared to be brave. And I am scared.

And now I can talk about being brave.