Stories.  We all have our stories, our moments, however brief, of striking courage that surprised ourselves most of all.  We look back and wonder at our own bravery, or foolish recklessness, because sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.  Sometimes we don't even recognize it as bravery.  We were just doing what had to be done and didn't feel any special commission that stated, "This is bravery, right here."  It was just necessary and we did it.

“Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow.”  

 ~ Mary Anne Radmacher

Bravery isn't usually on display.  It rarely is and that's why we have such high standards for it and don't recognize it in ourselves.  We have a Hollywood expectation of bravery.  We think that once we do something rash exhibit courage that it should be a game changer, that all will be set right because we finally did what we were afraid to do.  That's bullshit. There are times in life when we must find the courage to keep going every single day.  That's no better or worse than any other kind of bravery.  It's made of the same stuff.

We need to understand that we're not going to understand someone else's brave.  What may come easy to one is a daunting struggle to another.  My experience of a similar or even the same event is not your experience.   I come from a family of introverts, of which I am one just less so, who thought I was brave to dance in front of an audience, speak to large crowds, and tell off a judge (and gained his favor in doing so).  These things come easy to me so I don't see the bravery.  Sometimes I can look back and see it, but never in the moment.  Some of the most courageous things I've ever done were done where no one could see, and even had they seen they probably would not call what I did courageous.  Dragging myself off the sofa to take a walk in the midst of a debilitating depression was brave.  Leaving one life behind for another while everyone, even I, disapproved was brave.  Someone else's brave may be leaving the house determined not to re-check that the stove is off.

My sister was recently diagnosed with leukemia.  The chemo made her feel much worse than the disease and she had to go through four agonizing rounds that made her guts raw, her body weak, and took away her beautiful long hair.  There were times she said she had frightening thoughts of dying, but overall she tried to remain positive.  She told me, "It's just a ride.  A crazy ride, but we'll get through it."  I don't understand this brave.  Were it me, I'd have my funeral planned, written long letters to my loved ones, taken videos to leave them, and cried and cried in mournful self-pity.  I once had a biopsy (benign, of course) and did all these things.  My sister is now in remission and cancer-free.  Brave, not just to face the disease but also to take control of her wellness.  She might say no, it was not brave, just something that had to be done.  But that's what courage is made of: doing what needs to be done.

 “To try to be brave is to be brave.”
~ George MacDonald