Resilient I am. Brave, I am not.

When a careful daughter decides to see the world

My older sister, and me falling in love with another ugly toy.

The thought of landing in Mumbai on the fourth of March, just four days before I turn thirty, fills me with a feeling I can only liken to the night before Christmas. Led atop the triple bunk bed I shared with my two sisters, brimming with anticipation and urging each other to close our eyes because the morning would arrive quicker. That, mixed with the time I got lost walking over the sand dunes and at ten years old, sat down to accept my fate of a slow death and eventually being pulled apart by sea gulls. My mum told me I could head off the beach path but I must walk directly up and over. Walking straight to a child who day dreams so frequently they crash into swinging pavement signs, was not straight at all.

My word for 2025 is ‘bravery’. I have previously written about wanting to be braver. To be able to use the hand dryer in a public bathroom or drive on a dual carriage way by myself. I am a resilient person, but a brave one I fear I am not. But this is life and sometimes we find ourselves alone in the dark, leaving through the back door of a place we once called home or in the presence of another brave person, following them into the full participation of life.

Dale has been that for me. A hand that reaches back to find mine and pulls me forward through the world. He’s the person that tells me he’s proud in a way I wouldn’t notice the absence of others praise. There is not enough new writing about how incredible some men are, and how true, monogamous love still exists and I feel grateful to be able to share that. When I told him I wanted to see the world with the same gusto I tell people I’d like to be a runner, he said ‘let’s go’. I’ve not been running - obviously. But we are getting on that plane.

Careful daughters are not born, but bred. To feel truly brave and take calculated risks that still echo ‘I matter’, requires a belief that the world is more warm than cold to touch. Formed on more good and less evil and a deep knowing that people will stay despite the outcome.

There is a line in a Taylor Swift song (I have a strange gift that files away lyrics which I hope will transform into something useful like learning how to file my own taxes) that goes like this: ‘You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter’ and I knew how that felt. Although not a rebel, just a woman who gets a little bit braver each day. No matter how scared we’ve been there’s always a chance we’ll meet a braver part of who we are, whether we find that in ourselves or someone else.

In March I’ll walk away from a town I have loved and loathed and not return for a patch of time stretching longer than any before. I am over the moon to tell people I’m excited not only for the food, places and people we will meet but the way my life will be eternally altered after each day. It happens now, sometimes without me noticing, and will happen then and I hope to be awake for it.

The excitement is served with a side of fear. The rocket in the side-salad I am not interested in eating, but without it something’s off balance. I’m fearful of the open space not having a return date provides, of my friends moving on without me, of someone I love needing me and I can’t get there. I feel nauseous about the centimetres my niece, nephew and god daughter will grow and waiting longer to become a mother. Despite all that the thing that frightens me the most is not fully participating in life. This is something I really want to do, along with many others and this time makes the most sense. No matter what unfolds while we’re gone, I trust love will always be waiting for us no matter which continent we find ourselves on.

We are all frightened sometimes. Life constantly asks us to walk through the world without foresight but the fear of the unknown is never a good enough reason to hide from its darkness and only live in pursuit of the sun.

PS, can’t wait to take you around the world with me x