I’m glad I reread books.

You never know what little beauties you’ll rediscover when you return to a text you’ve already read. Right now I’m rereading Pride and Prejudice, which I could write about for a year and still not say all I have to say about it, and I’m rereading The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown. A friend and I decided to read this book together. Rather than rushing through it, like I did the first time (because I am an insatiable reader), we’re taking it very slowly. I’m taking notes on this book again in my journal, this time paying close attention not just to the points she makes, but also to the intentional, daily practices she encourages her reader to try to start living Wholeheartedly.

It’s a phenomenal book and I highly recommend you read it if you haven’t yet.

One thing I’m picking up this time around is her points on choosing courage. I have never seen myself as a particularly courageous person. When I left my ex, a lot of people told me I was incredibly brave and strong, and while I knew that yes, leaving an abusive relationship is always an act of courage, I did not feel brave or strong. I was, for months, only seconds away from running back to him. I was terrified of what my future would look like. I was miserable on a daily basis and didn’t feel like I could express that misery. I made posts on Facebook and on Twitter during the really dark moments, asked for help and encouragement when I was closest to asking my ex to take me back, but the daily ins and outs of my suffering went pretty much unnoticed and undisclosed. Other people in my life seemed to have it worse than I did, and usually attempting to talk about what I was going through with them went nowhere.

Rather than continuing to bring it up, I chose to suffer on my own. I went on hikes. I spent a lot of time in my room. I took myself out to cafes and bookstores to write and journal and somehow get the restless, negative energy out of my body without, apparently, bothering the people I thought would be there for me the most. (In hindsight, I can see these were red flags for the disasters to come, but at the time I was too caught up in my divorce to see any of it as really toxic behaviors.) And yes, going through my divorce was very courageous. It was hard. It tore me apart over and over before any piecing myself back together could begin. And I can look back on that time and feel very proud of how hard I worked to get through all of that without becoming bitter and resentful.

However, even during that time I allowed myself to be minimized. There were a lot of moments when I wanted to speak up about something bothering me, about a boundary that had been disrespected, and most of the time, I didn’t. As Brene Brown points out in her book, it takes a lot of courage to be honest and speak our needs to others because we risk being rejected, being judged, being criticized, being hurt. But choosing not to speak up is self-rejection. That was easier than what I really needed, which was an honest conversation about my needs, about my boundaries, and how I felt I was being continually taken advantage of. That is a hard conversation to have, and it was one I completely avoided, to my own detriment.

Choosing courage is hard because sometimes it looks like things we don’t feel ready for. Sometimes people avoid confrontation because they’re worried about what the relationship will look like afterward, if there’s a relationship at all. When the truth is, if speaking my truth about how I feel about how I’m treated is enough to completely change a relationship, then there isn’t a relationship at all. And I won’t know if that’s true until I do the courageous thing and speak openly and honestly about who I am, how I feel, and what I need.

So I’m choosing courage. I’m owning my story every day. I’m choosing to communicate my needs, my feelings, and my desires to the people closest to me. And hopefully the people in my life will do the same with me.