growing up my brother had a stuffed Care Bear called Brave Heart. he took it with him everywhere. in fact, i would wagger a guess it’s still with him even today.
or at least propped up on his childhood bed at my parents house.
i’ve been thinking about the term “lionheart” lately. namely because the radio keeps playing Of Monsters and Men and i can’t get the lyrics “You’re the King and I’m a lionheart” out of my head.
i’ve been trying to conjure up all the courage i can muster these days, and failing miserably. my reserves have been depleted. outwardly i can fake it for others, but inside i’ve been feeling paralyzed. as though any decision i make — even if it is the right one — will be wrong.
it’s exhausting being alone through it all too.
perhaps i need to dig out my own Brave Heart from the back of my closet (her name was Rainbow, a small stuffed bear with suspenders) and remind myself of a simpler time when i felt fearless. if only for nostalgia sake.