being me, bravely

I'm part of a local moms' group that meets every other week in town.  It's one of those things that I was initially pretty resistant to sign up for---another commitment, something to show up for and something that would require me to be present and real for.  Would I sign up and then not want to go because I felt like I had to?  What if I just wanted to go to yoga class and lie in savasana instead?  What if I just wanted to curl up with a book for an hour while Lulu was at school and feel resentful that I had to go socialize?

 

Despite my reservations, I signed up.  At the first meeting, we were informed that the theme for the year is "Be You, Bravely."  At first it didn't speak to me.  I wasn't getting the message.  What did I have to be brave about?  Then I attended my second meeting, and after hearing a very powerful speaker offer us her story of bravery, the whole message really got driven home. 

 

These past few months for me have been huge on the bravery front.  I had to be brave to have a C-section alone, with no support, on Christmas Day while my family was tucked into their beds.  I had to be brave to go to the doctor and pursue treatment and surgery in May.  I hate going to the doctor and never go.  I'm that person who doesn't know who their PCP is.  I didn't want to go at all.  But I knew something was wrong and I knew that my old ways of ignoring things and pretending that everything was fine wasn't going to work anymore.  I've had to be brave tackling the state of my postpartum body.  After I attended Squam (where I had a humbling experience where I couldn't hike up a mountain with my friends due to my huffing and puffing), I decided to completely change the way I look at my body.  I started going to yoga regularly, began working out, and totally revamped the way I look at food.  It feels brave to admit this in this public forum.  Brave to admit that I wasn't happy with the way my body was feeling and looking.  Brave to admit that I'm trying to change it, because change is slow, and hard.  It hasn't been easy.  Finally, brave for me was standing up in front of almost two hundred people at my friends' wedding this past weekend, and speaking into a microphone, and officiating their marriage.  I always told myself that my social anxiety prevented me from doing things like that.   Being brave this week meant going back to the dreaded doctor for some more answers to lingering health questions. 

 

Being brave is in the little things.  Waking up with a smile, making the same lunches again for the millionth time, wiping another butt without complaining, taking the dog out when it's freezing.  It's the little things that have the power to bring us to our knees, especially as moms.  Being brave is admitting that you need help, that you want to change, that you wish some things would always be the same.  Being brave is taking time for yourself and taking an extra minute for one more deep breath. 

 

 I am committing to bravery for the rest of 2014, and into 2015.  What sorts of things are you being brave about?