Everyone has moments in their lives where they feel truly empowered, fearless, and brave. For some, these moments are few and far between. For others, a daily choice.
I find myself walking a line between the two hemispheres. My face and body language frequently mislead people. I’ve been accused of having an RBF, and people describe me as “intimidating” when we first meet — a word I’ve come to both love and hate. I look fearless, and sometimes, I really am.
This summer, I put myself in the position to make many brave decisions. Most of these would impact my future. A few would impact the way I saw myself and how other people perceived me. All would fulfill me. All would terrify me.
I want to be fearless. Fearless in mind, body, and spirit. For the first time in my life, I think I saw myself that way. I reflect on the choices I made this summer, and I can’t help but feel impressed. My life has done a complete 180, and I owe my current happiness and peace to myself.
I left a long-term relationship.
After a year and a half with someone, you’d expect to be perfectly happy. Content. Not looking for anything more, and never wanting anything less.
So you can imagine my surprise, shock, and sadness when I started having thoughts about being free. I realized I was using my relationship to fill many empty spaces. My social life was hanging by a thread, my days were monotonous and repetitive, and I felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. Missing my family freshman year had caused me to anxiously attach myself to someone who no longer fit into where my life was. I was slowly and torturously giving up who I was. Leaving was difficult, but I knew that staying would’ve made it more taxing to return to where I needed to be.
I’m not sure if this feeling is relatable — being comfortable with someone but knowing that there are bigger, better things out in the world, waiting for you to make them yours. Yes, a tiny piece of my heart remained with this person, but my soul had left long before to chase my dreams.
I moved to a new city for two months.
I’ve said it once. I’ll say it again. As many times as I have to. Living in a new environment during your 20s is one of the best, most identity-affirming experiences you could ever have. There is truly no whirlwind of emotion comparable to moving to a new space on Earth.
This summer, I took the leap and decided to study abroad in Tokyo. After living in Europe for the majority of my life and knowing the countries like the back of my hand, living in Japan felt completely insane. Instead of feeling fearless, I was terrified. How would I understand the people? What if I couldn’t connect with the culture? How would I survive the jet lag? Should I have studied abroad with the rest of my friends in the spring?
I look back on my time in Tokyo now with a sore heart. Not only did I get the opportunity to immerse myself in a culture I love and cherish so deeply, but living in a new city, completely alone, gave me an incredible sense of security and confidence in who I was, where my life was headed, and who others saw me as. I felt free.
I cut my hair. Short.
When you’re having trouble processing emotions, you should always wait until the dust settles to change something major about your appearance.
That’s what I wish I would’ve told myself before I asked my dad to chop half of my hair off. Shoutout to my dad for always supporting me!
While he did a fabulous job, I was left to stare at my new hairstyle in the mirror, mouth agape, wondering what I had done and why I had asked for it to be so short. The phantom limb syndrome was real. Combing through my hair was a daily, almost hourly reminder that I had damaged something beautiful about myself, and I was filled with regret.
But the weirdest thing happened. I’ve come to love my shorter hair. It allows me to experience a new side of myself. Many of my friends have told me how great I look, and I feel lighter, happier, and more refreshed with short hair.
I picked up a crab.
Not all of my brave decisions were large.
On the beach of Miyajima Island, standing underneath the Itsukushima Shrine, I looked around and saw thousands of tiny crabs. Wishing I could admire their shells more closely, I picked one up and gently observed it. The crab stayed still in my hand before moving around. Not once did it pinch me, and I placed it back with its friends when I was done.
My brave decisions keep my spark alive. They have brought me to a place of incredible happiness and love for my life. Being fearless is never an easy choice, but it’s definitely a rewarding one. Embrace uncertainty, make the most of your life, and never underestimate the power of restarting.