The courage to trust yourself
I hope you had a chance to exhale a little over the long holiday weekend.
I've been rethinking courage lately.
Not the kind that gets a big standing ovation.
The quieter kind.
Our Courage Quest retreat is coming up this October, and as Priya and I have been planning the experience and booking outdoor adventures, I've found myself reflecting on what courage really means to me.
Because courage can sooooooo easily get hijacked by our inner critic...
It quietly becomes another should.
Speak up.
Be bolder.
Push yourself.
Say no more.
Prove how brave you are.
But that's not courage.
That's pressure.
One of my favorite definitions of courage comes from Glennon Doyle. She tells a story about overhearing a father talking to his child at the grocery store:
"Well, it's brave to go on a roller coaster. And it's also brave to say you don't want to go on a roller coaster. Brave is doing, on the outside, whatever your insides want to do."
I've found myself revisiting that idea again and again.
Especially because so many of us, particularly women, have become oh so expertly skilled at reading and calibrating to everyone else's expectations before checking in with ourselves.
We're rewarded for keeping the peace. For being accommodating. For making things easier for everyone else.
Somewhere along the way, it becomes surprisingly easy to lose touch with our own inner compass. 🧭
I've been practicing this in a [very!] unexpected way over the last month.
I've had a stubborn stye that's hung around for over a month. It's been painful, annoying, and, if I'm honest, embarrassing.
Two urgent care visits and three different prescriptions later, this stye persists.
I've found myself sitting farther back from the camera on Zoom. Wearing my sunglasses long after the sun had gone down. Wondering if people were staring right at that little bugger instead of me.
Then I started judging myself for caring.
"Seriously, Stacy? There are so many bigger, more important things happening in the world."
That voice wasn't particularly helpful.
Neither were the well-intentioned people who told me it "wasn't that bad."
Because whether it looked bad to them wasn't really the point.
It felt bad to me.
One response, though, stayed with me.
One morning, my dear friend Claire looked at me on Zoom and said, "You're such a badass for showing up stye and all."
She didn't try to convince me I shouldn't feel self-conscious.
She simply honored the courage it took to show up anyway.
That landed differently.
Kinda made me feel like a ripped t-shirt rock star if I'm honest!
Over the past month, courage hasn't looked like pretending everything was fine.
It also hasn't looked like hiding at home until I felt confident again.
Instead, it's looked like checking in with myself over and over again.
Some days that meant passing on a social commitment because that's what felt right.
Other days it meant being in the group selfie anyway.
It meant seeing Brandi Carlile in concert in two different cities in less than two weeks because I wanted quality time with my sister. My inbox could wait.
It meant saying yes to seeing St. Vincent play with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra on a Tuesday night and getting waves of goosebumps in the audience even though I still felt self-conscious about my stye.
It also meant floating down a muddy Georgia river despite a slight chance of rain and a high chance of water snakes.
And it meant saying no when I needed to.
None of those decisions happened because they looked courageous from the outside.
They happened because they felt true from the inside.
The point wasn't getting it "right."
The point was letting my inner knowing, instead of my inner critic, make the decision.
The more I pay attention, I'm realizing this lesson isn't just about a pesky stye.
It's about learning to trust myself.
I'm learning that even good advice has to pass through my own inner knowing before it becomes my path.
Maybe that's what self-trust looks like.
Not ignoring other people's wisdom.
Not outsourcing your inner knowing to someone else.
Just listening deeply enough to hear your own truth before deciding what comes next.
As Priya and I plan Courage Quest, this has become one of our guiding intentions.
Our hope isn't that women leave having proven how courageous they are.
It's that they leave trusting themselves more than when they arrived.
I don't know what courage looks like for you right now.
Maybe it's trusting one quiet nudge today instead of talking yourself out of it.
Maybe it's saying yes to something that brings you joy without feeling like you have to earn it first.
Maybe it's finally letting your inner knowing make the decision.
Maybe it's simply doing, on the outside, a little more of what your insides have been trying to tell you all along.
One small, courageous choice at a time.
If spending four days practicing exactly that with a group of thoughtful, supportive women sounds like something your heart has been quietly asking for, we'd love to have you join us for Courage Quest this October.
Not to become someone new.
But to return to the person you've been all along.
P.S. If someone came to mind while you were reading this, I'd love for you to forward this email to her. She might be longing for exactly what we've been talking about: not the courage to become someone new, but the courage to trust herself just a little more.
P.P.S. If you're looking for a gentle companion on your next walk, the second episode of Rootward: Letters from the Senses came out on Monday. In under 18 minutes, Seema and I explore the sense of smell, the thresholds we all move through, and what helps nourish us when life feels uncertain.
My sister and I in front of Seattle’s Pike Place Market after Brandi Carlile show #1.
