An Honest Assessment of Myself

"You are brave." I seem to get that a lot. And it has come up a couple of times this week. And usually it makes me either uncomfortable or pissed off. People say I am brave because I got pregnant knowing the odds were good I was going to be a single mom. I am brave because I managed to survive Carl's death. I am brave because I am willing to fly cross country alone with a one year old. I am brave because I will take my child on a long camping car trip. Heck, I am brave to camp alone as a woman. I am brave to take on the responsibility of herding 13 girls through Girl Scouts and camping. I am brave because I say what I think even if it leads to me being embarrassed.

My first reaction to most of these comments is a knee jerk denial. I am not brave. Bravery is all about facing danger, and the only thing on the line in most of my adventures is my self esteem and sanity. But then I was thinking about the real meaning of bravery, and if bravery is the showing of courage, and courage includes persevering through fear and difficulty, then I guess I am brave. It is weird to think of myself that way, since bravery (or even courage) are not generally on my list of adjectives I would use to describe myself. And most of the time I am putting on a brave face, my brain is screaming at me to flee the country (or at least the state).

But then I wonder if maybe instead of brave, I am foolhardy. Am I able to keep going in the face of fear and difficulty (brave) or am I needlessly bold (foolhardy)? Maybe I am a little of both. I can add them to the list of things I know myself to be. Stubborn, confident, intelligent, generous, a mediocre housekeeper, a great cook, a fairly decent mother, a little lazy when left to my own devices, and self reliant.