"Damn, Girl. Good for You."

It's becoming a pattern. About 15 minutes after I pull into a new campground or RV park, a slow, steady stream of good-hearted Curious Georges (or Roys or Kevins or Jims) start to appear, offering their compliments on my trailer, Clementine, and asking me if I'm traveling/towing alone. The comments go something like this. "That's a real cute trailer." "You towin' that thing all by yourself?" Damn, girl. Good for you." Sometimes the wives or partners of the Curious Georges will wander over and say something like, "Are you doing this by yourself?" "You don't have a husband or a boyfriend with you?" "You're traveling for how long? Ten weeks to 10 Parks? Wow, that's brave. I couldn't do something like that alone." At first I wasn't sure how to respond, but now I've decided to simply say "Thank you! I do feel brave. . and a year ago, I couldn't have imagined doing this alone either."

The more I thought about it, the more I felt compelled to reflect on the word "brave." I've never thought of myself as a particularly brave person. In fact, I've felt a lot of fear in my life, about all sorts of things. Fear of not being good enough, fear of being rejected, fear of being taken advantage of, fear of not knowing, fear of making mistakes, fear or being seen, fear of not being seen. The list goes on. Even as I prepared for this 10 week trip, I bumped up against some pretty strong fears, practical and emotional. What was different for me this time around, was that I chose to notice the fear and acknowledge it, rather than push it away. This allowed me to let the fear move and eventually pass through me and then I had more choices and more freedom. I also realized that the scariest thing I could have imagined happening to me, had already happened. And I survived. This entire past year of my life has been about coming face-to-face with myself, my fears, my heartbreak, my potential, my capacity, my ability to expand into more of myself. So when the good-hearted Curious George's or anyone else comes along and says, "Damn Girl, Good for You." I smile to myself and think, "Yes, Good for Me."