on bravery

strawberries, angels, and morning espresso runs

Good morning my beautiful friends,

It’s a Saturday morning, and I’m eating strawberries and drinking my first espresso of the day. I went to bed last night dreading this morning, because I knew I ran out of coffee and had to go to the store first thing to pick some up. And I refuse to function before I’ve had any type of caffeine enter my body.

This week has been mildly quiet. I mean, it started off strong (re: last week’s newsletter), and I wondered what I could possibly even write about after that entire scenario. But, I did want to fill you in on something that has brought me so much peace, comfort, confidence, and joy this week. 

I’ve been seeing psychics and mediums for around 4 years. There was one year where I was obsessed with getting my own cards read every few months - but it scared me to a point where I stopped really living because I had to consult the cards before every little thing I did. So, I decided to quit that - and now I resort to seeing either an astrologer or medium at most once or twice a year. 

Ps - I highly recommend getting your birth chart read. One of the coolest things I’ve ever done and completely changed my life.

Anyways, this week, my friend recommended a woman to me (DM me if you want her details) after she had an incredible experience connecting with a loved one. 

And when I tell you I felt like an angel had just come down from wherever (the stars/the sky/heaven/the universe/etc.) and gave me a hug - I really, really mean it. 

“My daughter is so gutsy.” She said to me as she started to relay messages from my mother. 

“Your mom has so much reverence for you. She’s saying you’re her mini-me.” 

Which was always her name for me.

And she said the most beautiful and the most wonderful things, most of which I want to keep close to my heart because it truly was so beautiful and magical and special. But the gutsy comment - that is the one that has been following me and my mind around over the past few days.

Do any of us consider ourselves to be brave? Or do we see ourselves as just “going through the motions” or “this is what I had to do because I had no choice”. Maybe we don’t see any of the amazing risks that we’ve taken - as risky, but rather, they’ve just been decisions that we’ve wanted to do without any fear of consequence. 

I never used the word brave to describe myself. In fact, the last time I used the word “brave” to describe someone was probably my mother after numerous chemotherapy treatments and drug trials.

The word “brave” was plastered over motivational posters at hospitals, cards that came with get-well-soon flowers, and spoken through the mouths of friends with solemn eyes every time they came to visit her. After that, the word bravery looked very different to me. 

So, as I bite into a strawberry after coming home from a walk in 20 degree and sunny weather, right after throwing an internal fit because I wasn’t able to make a coffee first thing out of bed - the word brave still doesn’t seem like the right word to describe myself.  

For my mom, bravery was her fighting to spend more time on this earth with her daughters. It was coming to my university graduation in a wheelchair after she just had surgery a few days prior. It was waking up on Saturday mornings, after a day spent at the hospital, ready to pick up sandwiches from the latest Italian bakery that had just opened. It was her opening her eyes, after days of sleeping in her final moments, to hold our hands and ask us how our day was.

And, even though the doctors told her she had 6 months to live, she ended up living for 24. Still too short, still not enough, but a lot more than what we bargained for. 

But maybe bravery can be choosing to wake up in the morning after your world has been broken. Maybe bravery is leaving the job that is burning you out but has kept you financially stable. Maybe it’s leaving the relationship that you’ve invested so much time in, but something has been whispering to you - I deserve more. 

We do deserve more. 

We deserve longer Sunday mornings in bed, we deserve to hear the words “I love you” from the right one, after years of being with the wrong one. We deserve the smell of sunscreen and citrus and Aperol on a Saturday afternoon. We deserve more time, we deserve more love, and we deserve our bowl of fresh strawberries and our morning espresso.

And as I sit in the kitchen - tears now streaming down my face, I think back to last week’s conversation over cigarettes and an open window: “I deserve it, Emily. I tell myself - I deserve it.”

So, maybe bravery is knowing what we’ve always been deserving of.

Well my friends, I love you. You’re braver than you think.

Emily