I have a constantly changing definition of bravery.

Is being quiet the daring thing, or is it speaking your mind? Is bungee-jumping daring, or is it keeping your feet planted on the ground?

I dare you to leave. I dare you to stay.

I dare you to deny yourself. I dare you to fulfill yourself.

I dare you to want more, more, more. I dare you to be happy with what you have.

Accept the things you cannot change. Change the things you can. I dare you to know the difference, because I don’t anymore.

I dare you to do something that makes you uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable all the time.

I dare you to do something to impress others. I dare you to impress only yourself. Who cares what the others think anyway?

I dare you to write that email, make the phone call, reach out. I dare you to let sleeping dogs lie.

I dare you to seize the day. I dare you to let it seize you.

I dare you to be honest. I dare you to hear the truths that don’t need to be spoken.

I dare you to be your best when no one’s watching. I dare you to stop watching others.

I am tired of trying to prove myself all the time. The biggest dare of all is to proclaim an impossible dream and knowing the terrible odds, to keep on going despite them. To know that even if I am good at something it might not even help me. To keep willfully throwing my heart and hands into a sausage grinder. To hear over and over again, “You’re not what we need.” And yet I keep asking, “Is it my turn now?”