Building Bravery

 

I’m at the top of the water slide and there is only one way down.

This might be a bad idea, my brain whispers. You don’t like speed or falling. And you keep getting letters from the AARP. 

“Humph!” I retort, refusing to back down. It seemed like a manageable plan when I was climbing up. Yes, I’m fifty-one and I haven’t been on a water slide in years—but I’m challenging my comfort zone, so here I am, perched up high, with the water far below.

I picture myself gliding down the slide with the grace of a mermaid, landing elegantly into the turquoise water with barely a ripple. I fumble from a standing to a sitting position and attempt to lay down on the slide. My body starts to slide, so I grab the sides above me. Yikes! Too fast! But gravity is pulling me downward, so half nervous, half elated, I let go.

A moment later I splash into the water, and surface with a bear-like snort, water up my nose. My hair is like a tangled clump of seaweed (Ariel the mermaid never had this problem), but I swim to the edge and feel a little proud that I did something new, something not entirely comfortable. Of course, I’m glad that no one witnessed my awkward attempt. This was just for me. It didn’t need to be graceful—it just had to be done.

Truthfully, this was not one of those skyscraper waterslides you see in videos online. It was an eight-foot 1970s pool slide with a curve, but shoot—I challenged my own doubts, and I'm glad.

Moments later, I’m informed that the family did see my descent, and I feel a bit chagrined. My performance was like the videos of a confused panda somersaulting backwards off a deck or getting tangled as she attempts to belly-flop a swing set. These pandas are graceless--but determined. My slide attempt was clumsy. The Olympic synchronized swim team will not be recruiting me, but hey—I’m proud I did it. 

A year ago, I decided I was going to try more things outside my comfort zone, without caving to my fears of failure or looking stupid. Trying things (not cuteness or perfection) is the win.

So what is bravery? It often is portrayed as physical challenges in which injury is possible--visible displays that defy fear or gravity. As kids, our role models were Wonder Woman and Superman. We learn that bravery is skydiving, bungee-jumping or walking over hot coals. Action. Capes. Shields. Heights.

I say sure, these acts require courage, but bravery can be small acts (that feel big). It's brave to raise your hand in class, sharing a personal story because your teacher asks for volunteers. Your heart may have been pounding, and this goes against your brain’s command to avoid anxiety-inducing acts. But you did it anyway. I'm proud of you for that.

Sometimes bravery is in doing something new. Or making major life changes. Bravery is not a contest, with a finish line and a clear winner. It’s not always a physical challenge--it may be an attempt to overcome a fear. Bravery is built by challenging yourself.

My own bravery journey has been an ongoing quest. I've done activities that made me scared, like climbing Half Dome at Yosemite. But the bigger challenges were not physical--they were emotional. My journey has had loops, wrong turns and dead ends, but I kept going. Two books that helped me shift my fear of judgement are Brave, not Perfect by Reshma Saujani and Rejection Proof by Jia Jiang. I heard NPR interviews with each author, and their stories fascinated me. I decided that like them, I wanted to try things that were out of my comfort zone. 

Physical Threats

When I was a child, I was scared of everything: big kids, dogs, snakes, spiders, heights, judgement, the dark, roller coasters. I’m still scared of heights but over the last few years I have challenged myself to ride the Skyfari gondola above the San Diego Zoo. You ride high over the treetops—awesome for some, but scary for me. I’ve ridden it at least thirty times now, and while it’s not 100% comfortable, I’m much less nervous than before. I used to count the seconds until it was over, both hands clenched onto the pole. Gradually, I began holding the pole with only one hand, and eventually, I stopped needing to hold the pole at all. To those without a fear of heights, this may not seem like a big deal. But for those of us who don’t enjoy falling, this was a big deal. A sign of my growth. I’m proud of that.

Me on the Skyfari ride. Look--no hands!

And what about my fear of snakes? In the last few months, I've challenged myself to look at the snakes in the science museum. I used to look at the floor in the reptile room, determined not to look at snakes, with their beady eyes and big appetites. But recently, I started looking at the snakes because I wanted to challenge my fears. When I was very young—five or six—we saw a long rattlesnake on the ground, less than ten feet away. I was terrified. My mom told us to back up very slowly so as not to startle the snake. The snake moved along, and no one was hurt. But this is a core memory, and it is not easy to overcome fears that date back decades. So, looking at snakes in glass enclosures is my first step toward challenging my own fears. We will not be getting a snake as a pet any time soon (at all, ever) but I’m building my way up to possibly holding a gentle, sleepy, small snake at local nature center. 

(Update: I wrote this post about two weeks before publishing it and during that time I said to myself, "Why put this off? You can go hold a snake right now. Empowering!" So, we went to a nature center and held a California Kingsnake. I was a little nervous but not terrified. I challenged my own fear and it wasn't overly scary. Go me!)

Physical health can present huge threats. I know people who are facing true health challenges right now: cancer of various sorts. That takes amazing courage by the patient as well as by the patient's loved ones. A friend’s husband is battling cancer, and I know she worries about him. But I see her walking her dogs each morning, going to work, dropping kids at school, despite her worries over her husband’s cancer. He is brave and so is she.

Physical threats sometimes involve the loss of a home, which is a double loss because it also involves emotional loss. I’m quite proud of the people I know who have started over after losing their home. Putting one foot in front of the other after tragedy—that takes guts. Courage doesn’t have a look or an age—it’s on the inside.

Emotional Threats

Fears sometimes involve emotional discomfort, not a lack of physical safety. A lion eating us is frightening for obvious reasons, but why is public speaking so scary to many people?

It's brave to face an emotional hurdle. 

Our ancestors who lived outdoors faced physical threats as well as emotional threats like exclusion. When people lived in nomadic tribes, feeling accepted within the tribe ensured survival, because food, shelter and safety were group goals. To be shunned could lead to death. Fear of exclusion is real, even if we are no longer nomads.  This is why fitting in at school feels so important to kids. Everyone wants to belong without judgment. 

A close friend came to town for the weekend, and we had a long talk about life. She’s faced a lot of challenges and is still finding her footing. In my eyes, she has true courage and resilience.

I'm proud of facing an emotional challenge a few months ago. It was graduation at the school where I taught art for seven years. When I visited my former students at school in September 2024, I promised the eighth grade that I would go to their graduation in June 2025 and I wanted to keep my promise and cheer on the kids. But I was nervous about it for weeks ahead of time because I did not want to be near my former boss at graduation. He was dishonest with me, and I confronted him when I visited school in September. Although necessary, the confrontation was uncomfortable, and I didn’t want a repeat. But I found the courage to go, and it was so good to see the kids again and to be part of their milestone. Of course, it wrecked me afterward—the loss of that part of my life. It opened wounds that had been healing for almost a year. Still, I’m proud that I didn’t let fear stop me. Courage can be small or big acts—but it often means doing what you feel is right, even when there is potential discomfort.

Fear of judgment or exclusion has reared its head multiples times in my life. My fears said, “Don’t rock the boat. It’s safer to be quiet.” So, I didn’t speak up. Or if I did, I was tentative. I dressed in a safer way, because I wanted to earn approval. I’m happy to say that I’ve grown and I dress in whichever fun way I want now. I speak up. I still like belonging but I’m not willing to shrink myself to fit into the mold. (Shrinking myself to please others didn’t work anyway, so it was a double loss.)

Sometimes going against the group feels as threatening as battling a lion. Speaking up might lead to exclusion—but it is essential to find the courage to be true to yourself. 

Fight or Flight

How do our bodies respond to fear? Some people sweat, faint, or have a fast heartbeat. Why do we have physical responses, even when the threat is emotional discomfort rather than physical harm? My online search led to the University of Edinburgh Science Media website, which posted the article 

 "Fear: from ancestral origins to modern thrill-seekers."  

Here is what I found:

Anxiety first emerged for human protection in the face of present danger. Fast forward to modern times, and our need to protect ourselves from predators has disappeared. Some of those instincts have remained ingrained in our programming, but most of our fear now lies in the future; whether that be paying bills on time, preparing for exams or working on a relationship. We now live in a delayed return environment, where the choices we make in the present will often not have an impact until later.

When we are afraid or anxious, our bodies release stress hormones. This leads to increased blood flow and oxygen directed to our muscles—a way to prepare our bodies for battle or escape (fight or flight).

So why do some of us experience these physical symptoms when we are not in physical danger? Certain activities feel emotionally dangerous. For some people, public speaking leads to the release of stress hormones--even a panic attack. There is no actual lion, but the audience feels like the lion.

Yet there are people who love scary activities—haunted houses or extreme sports. Why do these people run toward frightening activities, while others run from them? The University of Edinburgh article says that some people seek a natural high (dopamine release) from scary activities.  

The Comfort Zone

People fascinate me: our differences, and our commonalities. Everyone fears something.

Our fears and strengths are a map of who we are. What do we fear? What is our comfort zone?

We are encouraged to get out of our comfort zone. This often feels counterintuitive—like trying to exist without oxygen. So, why get out of our comfort zone? Here are a few reasons:

·       Our comfort zones can be a safe place, but they may limit us, too. If you don’t try new things, you may be missing out on something wonderful.

·       Taking baby steps out of your comfort zone allows you to grow. Growth is good!

·       Tiptoeing out of our comfort zone is a way to challenge our own fears, to dismantle them. If you challenge that inner voice that says, “Don’t,” and you try something and it goes well, that fear no longer controls you. It’s freeing.

There is a kid at my preschool who recently challenged his own comfort zone. He’s four and this is his first time in preschool. He looks strong and confident but he was nervous about his first visit to our outdoor art studio. His teacher cajoled him into trying it and I didn’t insist that he try the messy stuff like finger paint. He was allowed to play with toys I have set up for the kids who don’t want to make messes. I reassured him that he can take his time getting used to this new activity. Allowing someone to take baby steps is important, whether that person is four or sixty-four. It helps ease their anxiety. The new activity is not always the challenge—it’s the fear of the unknown aspects of the new activity/food/person/job/place. Fear of failure or discomfort.

A friend recently commented that she wishes she had the courage to dress in a braver manner. She is stylish but sticks to a neutral palette. I was surprised because I think of her as quite brave. She plays softball, after all! I dress in a fun and perhaps brave way, but I’m terrified of softballs. (Specifically, moving softballs. Softballs on the ground are okay.) I’d rather confront a rattlesnake than get hit by a softball zooming toward my head at fifty miles per hour! What terrifies some is fun and exciting to others. 

Discomfort won’t kill you.

A therapist I know says that avoiding scary things is not the answer. She advises us to remember that we can handle uncomfortable things. Avoiding discomfort keeps us removed from the possibility of good outcomes. Her advice has been helpful when I was nervous. If the “why” is important, and the potential good is there, challenge yourself to try something and know that you can handle some discomfort. The growth is the reward. This is coming from me, the kid who was so shy at four years old, she stood outside birthday parties because she didn’t want the kids looking at her. (I’ve come a long way!)

Have you overcome a fear? Please share in the comment section. 

(I've been told that the comment section is not allowing people to comment this time around. Sorry about that. Blogger seems to be a little temperamental right now. If you are able to comment, I always enjoy the feedback.)

I hope you are proud of challenging your fears, even if you think they are small victories. They aren’t. And challenging our fears helps us to grow. Let's keep building our bravery. We’ve got this!

Does Anyone Need to go Potty?

Happy spring, everyone! I’m back with a long-overdue blog post. It’s been longer than I intended since my last post (six months), but I’d rather post something meaningful, even if it means posting less often. Today I will share some photos from my job at a local preschool, as well as some photos of my own art.

Let me begin with work. It has been eight months since I started working at preschool, and I’m happy. I still miss my students and the teachers from my old job as an art teacher, but I’m healing and I’m glad to be where I landed. I feel comfortable, liked and respected.

When you work with two-, three- and four-year olds, the phrase you say most often is, “Does anyone need to go potty?” We say it many times each day, especially on the playground, where fun activities sometimes distract kids from heading to the bathroom on time. 

               

For the last three months I have been teaching preschool art in our wonderful outdoor art studio. The school used to have art studio time twice a week and my boss decided to bring it back in February. I feel so lucky to work outdoors, surrounded by tall, mature trees. Of course, some days are cold or rainy, and then we move indoors. But mostly we do art outdoors, with chirping birds as our background music. You really notice the turning fall leaves and the new spring growth when you spend hours under the trees. 
 

         

                  

Our art is mostly process art, with the kids’ exploring materials without the expectation of a finished piece of art. But sometimes we make a permanent piece of art, like this painting for our recent school fundraiser. I had the kids put their handprint on a canvas I’d painted of a sunset, and I like the different colors and the collaborative aspect, too. 

Preschoolers make art with true joy. They don’t pressure themselves to have specific results—they are simply in the moment, trying out new materials and discovering what happens. It’s a good reminder for all of us. Have fun! Explore! Experiment! Play! 

 

After art studio, it’s lunch time, and you will find me folded onto a tiny chair made for preschoolers, knees pressed up against a kid-sized table. The kids bring their own lunches, in plastic or aluminum bento boxes. The latches on the lunchboxes may be the creation of NASA designers. The boxes are vacuum-sealed, and the chances of one opening accidentally are one in ten thousand. Have you ever wrestled with the latches on a lunch box? You begin with a quick stretch, then bend your legs for maximum leverage, bracing for the battle ahead. Five sweaty minutes later, as you’re trying to catch your breath, you realize (sheepishly) that you were trying to undo the permanent hinge at the back, which looks exactly like the opening latches. 

back of lunchbox

front of lunchbox.

What, we can’t get someone to stamp “open” on the front end? I have written a letter to the Lunchbox Federation with my recommendation.

Anyway, once the jaws of life pry open the lunchboxes, the kids exclaim with glee over Pirates Booty (“I have that, too!” someone squeals), sliced cucumber, squeezable yogurt and shiny pieces of fruit. Some kids are fast eaters, and some are slow eaters. Some devour every last crumb, and some take two bites and declare themselves finished. Negotiation ensues. Three more bites? We need energy for the playground!

Recently, I was sweeping up after lunch and glanced down at the dustpan, noting the colorful mix of glitter and macaroni.

Side note: “Glitter and Macaroni” was my original title of this post. This combination almost sums up preschool. Lots of kids bring pasta for lunch and a few pieces land on the floor. These kids have a sophisticated palate for two-year-olds. Some have penne with tomato sauce. Some have fusilli with spinach. There have been several pesto sauces spotted. One three-year-old brought sushi!

And glitter—have you ever known a kid who doesn’t love glitter? It’s shiny, festive and colorful. Kids love it—because they don’t have to clean it up. No matter how much you sweep, you will never get all the glitter off the linoleum. I’m considering dumping a whole container of glitter on the floor and sealing it with polyurethane. It’ll be colorful and any glitter that falls will blend in.

As you may know, kids say the funniest things. Here are a few memorable things the kids have said to me:

Why are you wearing blue stuff on your eyes? Will it stay forever?

Why does your hair look like that? It’s so much higher today.

Why do you have a Band-Aid on your hand? I have a band-aid, too!

Will you be my teacher forever? (Every time you are at preschool, yes!)

I need a purple Hot Wheels car. (I find one.) No, a different purple one. (I find another.) No, one where some wheels are big and some are small.

I’m going to go have a conversation with my water bottle. (This from a very talkative two-year-old.)

This shaving cream smells like juice!

Why is your skin so dry?

You’re always funny! (Thanks, Austin!)

Once I began working at preschool, the little ones quickly got used to me. Depending on their ages and speech ability, they call me variations of “Sarah,” including “Miss See-Rah,” and “Math Sah-wah.” It’s awfully cute to hear a little child say your name.

If they are feeling a connection with me, they give me things. When you are two and three, there are various forms of currency. They have given me their “treasures,” shiny plastic sequins that we sprinkle around the playground for them to hunt.

They sometimes give me drawings, and there was that time a child gave me her sparkly mermaid sticker to put on my hand. Stickers are beloved by preschoolers, so I was flattered. 

One amazing thing about working with two-year-olds is watching their vocabulary grow. To hear a two-year-old string together five words, when she used one or two words a few months ago—that’s a wonderful thing to witness and encourage.

To help me learn more about art and preschoolers, I’m taking an in-person Child Development course at a community college. The topic is process art for young kids. Below are a few photos of assignments--the art activities I invented for young kids. Having fun is one goal, but there are also learning fundamentals to incorporate, based on age and development. We have learned how to tie in an art project with another concept from a different branch of education, like math or science (this is called “an extension,” in case you want to bring that up in conversation later). 

This is a project I designed for class. Kids can use a dish
brush to apply paint to a train track I drew on cardboard.

My track before paint.

Track after the kids used brushes
and then hands to paint the track.

I also gave the kids a chance to paint the train track using trains as their brushes. Big mess = big success!

The next project needed to be 3-D, so I created an activity zone called "Sandy Land," which allows the kids to play with kinetic sand, sculpting it, and pushing it on swings and down funnels and slide. 

The class is interesting, and I’ve learned some helpful things. But I’m ready for the end of the semester. It’s a lot to juggle work, class, my family, health, self-care and all the odds and ends of life.

 

When I’m not at work, with family, or chipping away at my chores, I’ve been doing some art of my own and below are some of my creations from the last six months. Most are acrylic paintings, but there is one sculpture, one experiment with printmaking, and several collages. Collage is rewarding because you don’t have to be exact. If you don’t like the effect, keep layering until you like it. I save lots of things for collage, including junk mail, scraps of patterned origami, food labels and barcodes.

Many of my paintings are small (6” x 6” or smaller) but a few are larger. Sometimes I’m too tired to do art at night, but when I have the energy, it refills my cup. 

Adventures in printmaking...

My homage to sculptor Tom Fruin, who makes
colorful structures you can walk into.

Another project I’ve been chipping away at is a floor mural in our backyard. The concrete pad was here before we moved in, and I finally decided to turn it into the painted koi pond I’d imagined. I started it in October, and here we are in May, with it not quite finished. It’s about 90% finished, and I’m showing it here now, because waiting for it to be complete may take another few months.

 

Although it seems wild to me that I haven’t finished the koi pond painting after seven months, I am giving myself grace. In the life of a busy adult, certain projects are put on hold when the laundry piles up. And that is okay!

It’s spring and there are signs of new life everywhere. I’m enjoying the magic, and I hope you are, too. Until next time, find some joy, and shine on!