Nobody Wants to Be Brave

Nobody wants to be brave.

Seriously.

Who wakes up and thinks,

"I hope today requires enormous courage."

Nobody.

Because courage always comes wrapped in fear.

And fear feels awful.

Maybe your fear looks like crying on the bedroom floor while your husband sits beside you for two hours trying to convince you everything is going to be okay.

Maybe your fear looks like driving home from work for the hundredth time saying,

"I swear to God, I'm quitting tomorrow."

Maybe you've rewritten the same text message seventeen times because you're terrified of being misunderstood.

Or you know you need to tell your adult child no...

...but your stomach knots up every time you think about it.

Or your boss asks one question in a meeting and suddenly you're defending your entire existence instead of answering the question.

I've coached high performers for over a decade.

And here's what surprises them.

They think they're missing courage.

They're not.

Most of them are incredibly brave.

They've built businesses.

Led organizations.

Raised children.

Survived unimaginable loss.

They're courageous...

...just not in the place their life is asking them to be courageous today.

I used to think courage was a personality trait.

That some people were simply born with more of it than others.

I don't believe that anymore.

Because I'm afraid almost every day.

Sometimes several times a day.

I'm afraid of disappointing my clients.

I'm afraid my writing will miss the mark.

I'm afraid my family will need something from me that I don't have to give.

I'm afraid my future self will look back and wish I'd been bolder.

Sometimes I'm afraid I'm asking too much of myself.

Sometimes I'm afraid I'm not asking enough.

Fear isn't a sign you're doing life wrong.

It's often a sign you've wandered to the edge of who you've been.

And you're looking into the vista of who you might become.

What I've learned—through thousands of coaching conversations and through my own life—is that courage is specific.

The courage that built your business isn't necessarily the courage you'll need to tell your daughter the truth.

The courage that got you through chemotherapy isn't automatically the courage you'll need to ask your spouse for what you need.

The courage to stand on a stage doesn't mean it's easy to apologize.

The courage to care for everyone else doesn't mean it's easy to disappoint someone you love.

We don't need more courage.

We need to build courage in the places we've been avoiding.

Not by waiting until we feel ready.

By being willing to feel exactly what we've been trying so hard not to feel.

That's the muscle.

Every hard conversation.

Every boundary.

Every honest sentence.

Every time you let your values make the decision instead of your fear.

You don't become fearless.

You become someone who knows fear gets a vote...

…but not the final one.

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