Bold and Brave

Two Fridays ago was one of those days where I felt good because I accomplished so many things. I only have class from 12-12:50, so after a quick lunch, I found myself facing my increasingly messy side of the room (I’m not typically one to just “put things away” when I’m done using them), determined to class it up. Also being five days into October, I thought it’d be a good idea to update my whiteboard calendar. Putting on some music, I buckled down and managed to get pretty much everything besides vacuuming and trash done by the time four o’ clock rolled around. But as I was working on my calendar, a feeling hit that I get every so often while in my dorm: I need to get out. Usually when I get that feeling, I just head a few doors down to my friend’s room and hang out in there, but this was an I need to get out of the dorms kind of thing. So I picked up my phone and fired off a text to my three best floormates, asking if they wanted to go to the movies that evening. We talked and although Ann declined because her boyfriend was in town, Litzia and Allie both agreed to go see Pitch Perfect with me. We decided on the 7:40 showing because, being college students, we’re highly dependent upon public transportation that stops at 11.

Except I said that it didn’t.

“Are you sure?” Litzia asked me.

“Yes.” But in truth, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure when the bus stopped running because I really didn’t know how to read the schedule. Unfortunately true to our usual selves, we left way later than we should have and ended up having to see the 9:00 showing. I wasn’t worried when Litzia nudged me during the movie and said it was almost 10:50, wasn’t worried when we had to run like hell to get to the bus stop, and I wasn’t worried when the bus did arrive and the driver said he wasn’t going back to ASU. I could tell Litzia was nervous and that Allie wasn’t exactly peachy, but I said that we’d be okay because I really did believe we would be.

Luckily, another bus came and we were able to get back to ASU. However, when we were riding and trying to decide where we should get off, both Allie and Litzia said something that struck me.

“You decide where we get off, Elizabeth,” Litzia said. “You’re brave.”

Allie agreed. “Yeah. You seem pretty bold.”

I felt so happy in that moment. I was pleased that two people would actually describe me as brave and bold because, truth told, I didn’t used to be. From the time I was a child, it was instilled in me that the world was a dangerous place. I have my mother to thank for this, though she did it unintentionally. I know every mother wants to protect her child(ren), but mine took it to the extreme. My sister and I began staying home alone when we were just 8 and 9 years old and although we nearly killed each other every day, what we didn’t do was play with friends. Why? We were forbidden to leave the apartment. My mother always needed to be able to get in contact with us and, in her mind, if she couldn’t, that meant we were in danger. My sister and I weren't even allowed to cross the street to get the mail, or open the door to let our friends know why we couldn't come out. When we were older (11-13 & 12-14), the three of us lived in a little house with a huge backyard. There was nothing in this backyard, and the only way to get to it was to go out the front door, around to the side of the house, and through a gate.
Did I ever make that trip? Not hardly. Once again, my sister and I were forbidden to leave the house. Every single day for five summers was spent inside.

Later, when my mom granted my sister and me even more freedom, the fear had been installed in us that someone was going to kidnap us as we walked down the street. If I was walking to my friend's house, I had to text or call my mom as soon as I got there. I was afraid of any approaching person or car. When my friends and I would walk around at night, I nearly had a heart attack out of fear. Being home alone late at night would equal all lights being on, every door locked, and every door to a dark room tightly closed. And walking around in the dark? Forget about it.
I was terrified of my home, my surroundings. Terrified. Nobody should be that afraid of what's around them.

Then, suddenly, I wasn't anymore. Without even realizing it, I could walk home without being afraid that someone was going to snatch me up or shoot me. I can’t even pinpoint exactly when it happened, just that it did. Coming to college increased that bravery because even surrounded by 70,000 other students, I am alone sometimes. Going to class, walking to the MU, so many other things require me to rely on myself and nobody but.

And I can’t rely on myself if I’m afraid of the world.