Brave Like Ellie
If only I wasn't too big for the slides.
This week, I made a point of appreciating the beautiful weather and spending as much time outside as possible.
Ellie and I took long walks, went to the park multiple times, and got a nice sunburn during a picnic.
I truly do believe toddlers are meant to roam the wild like the feral animals they are. Ellie is totally in her element, climbing and digging in the dirt to find treasures.
It is a true feat to drag her inside, and it breaks my heart to do it, even when I am so tired of my heart racing just watching her scale the high structure at the park.
And she couldn’t care less. She runs fearlessly to the most complicated way up and climbs it, knowing she will either make it to the top or someone will catch her.
I’m always there to do just that.
I was not a fearless child; I was terrified of falling or getting hurt, and I second-guessed myself and my choices constantly. My confidence came later and is still developing as I try new things. My husband, on the other hand, was fearless as a child and still is one of the bravest people I know.
Ellie is a good combination of us, stubborn from both sides, and brave like her dad.
I wish I could be as brave as her. I am constantly afraid to fail.
As a teenager and even into adulthood, I would avoid trying things just because I was afraid I would be bad at them and ultimately fail. There are so many things I look back on now that I tried to be nonchalant about, but really, I couldn’t wrap my head around not succeeding.
It couldn’t hurt me if I didn’t try in the first place, right?
Watching Ellie play, I don’t see her look around to see if anyone is judging her.
I don’t see her evaluating the odds of falling. She just goes for it. She is so confident in herself and her body that failure doesn’t seem to scare her.
Somewhere between toddlerhood and adulthood, we lose that confidence.
Along the way, someone or something has made us doubt our ability to succeed. We start measuring ourselves before we even try. Sometimes, coming to the conclusion that failing is too big a risk to even try.
I am so guilty of this.
But watching Ellie build her confidence, one shaky step at a time, has made me realize that I don’t need a time machine to build my own.
I just have to start somewhere.
One shaky step at a time.