Boldness Has Its Bruises

Fearless. That was the word I chose in January of 2024 when a dear friend prompted me to select my “word of the year”. The idea was to find a word that represented what you wanted the coming new year to be, how you wanted to live your life for the new year. Essentially, it was supposed to be your mantra.

I’ve tried to live fearlessly in all areas of my life. Life’s too short not to. Our time in this body, on this Earth, is limited. It’s finite and impermanent. It will eventually end. So I believe in making the most of it while I can. I take the risks and I jump in head first into the deep end, often without looking. Does this get me hurt sometimes? Yes. Of course it does. Sometimes being fearless and bold gets me beat up, bruised, and bloody.

I forget how dangerous living boldly can be. I look at Instagram and see everyone else being so fearless and apparently never getting hurt. Social media is full of people living boldly and fearlessly. Often it appears that’s how everyone lives their lives. And they look like they’re doing so positively, all the time. You know what I’m talking about. It’s that Instagram facade. The charade where someone’s life and journey look pretty damn perfect and easy. But that’s because that’s all they choose to show. The good stuff. The easy way.

But in real life, boldness isn’t always glamorous. Often, it’s messy. It’s vulnerable. It’s stepping into the light knowing full well that someone, somewhere, might not receive you gently. Knowing that vulnerability may lead you to getting hurt.

And yet… we step forward anyway.

Because boldness isn’t just about showing up.
It’s about showing up as yourself—unguarded, genuine, and willing to let people see who you really are.

Opening Up Often Means You Get Hurt

If you’ve ever met me in person, you know that I am a what-you-see-is-what-you-get person. I have no poker face. Often, I also have no filter. I try to tell it like it is, and not bullshit you or leave things out. I also tend to be an open book; I openly share about myself, my life, and my story. I try to be genuinely me all the time. And don’t get me started on boundaries. Generally, I have none. I struggle to set boundaries. I can’t say no to people. (for a long time last year I wore a permanent bracelet with the word “no” to remind myself that it’s ok to say it).

For someone who has trust issues, (insert childhood trauma here…) I sure do live very unguarded. I can’t help it. It just happens. Every time I get hurt by someone or something as a result of living boldly and putting myself out there, I swear I am not going to let it happen again! This whole conversation ensues among the committee in my head: That’s it! This was the last time we’re allowing ourself to be so open. We’re not going to let this happen again. Walls are coming back up.

And yet, here we are again.

Sometimes being bold means you get bruised. When you open your heart, your creativity, your dreams, or your time to others, you invite connection—but you also invite the possibility of disappointment. Not everyone will honor the space you offer. Not everyone will understand your passion, your boundaries, or your intentions.

Sometimes people misunderstand you.
Sometimes they take advantage of your kindness.
Sometimes they simply walk away.

And yes, it can hurt.

Lesson Learned

Boy have I learned this lesson in 2025.

My dream of the shop becoming a place of community has been difficult on me personally this year. As the business grew, so did the community. New people came in. People who I quickly let into my space, my life, my heart. People that I opened myself up to in many ways.

Some of those people took advantage of my kindness. Shocking, I know. This is the story of my life. You’d think I’d learn by now. The committee in my head sure reminds me enough.

I used to tell my students at the beginning of each semester not to mistake my kindness for weakness. Yes, I am often overly open, kind, accommodating. But I do have a line, and I don’t like it when you cross it. That speech still goes for the shop now. I do have a line where my kindness ends, and when it’s crossed I am hurt and I get upset.

There have also been people this year who misunderstood me. I’ve been called two-faced, phony, that I act one way publicly and another privately, that my kindness, sincerity, and openness is all an act. I wish. Maybe if it was all an act then I wouldn’t get so hurt. Others have told me I let too many people in, that I’m took quick to trust, and that people in my life are manipulating me.

People have also walked away.

I think this is what hurts me the most. When people I have let in just leave. It makes me start to question myself. Why do I put myself out there so much? Why do I have to be so bold? Why can’t I tone myself down, close myself off, build some walls, set some boundaries? Why do I let people in so easily? Why can’t I just put up those walls and protect myself?

Bruised and Bewildered

And that’s where I find myself again today. Hurt. Bruised. Bewildered.

My boldness that allowed me to be so open and inviting when creating our community at the shop has once again led to me being misunderstood, to someone walking away, and to me feeling wounded.

But here’s the thing: the pain is not a sign of weakness. It’s not a sign that I did the wrong thing. It doesn’t mean I should change. It doesn’t mean I should be less bold.

The pain is simply a sign that I felt something. And the ability to feel—deeply, sincerely, fully—is a strength, not a flaw. It’s taken me years to realize this. It’s ok to feel everything. It’s ok to have those big feelings. And sometimes you just have to sit with them. It might be uncomfortable. But it’s ok.

The Risk Is Real… but so is the Reward

Every time you put yourself out there, you are betting on the possibility of something meaningful: authentic friendships, aligned partnerships, shared creativity, a sense of community, the right people finding you at the right time.

Being bold is how you discover those people—the ones who see your heart and say, “I’m here. I get it.”

But the only way to ever meet them is to stay open… even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it hurts.

The Hurt Doesn’t Mean You Should Close Off

When someone wounds us—intentionally or not—the temptation is to retreat, to armor up, to build walls. But walls don’t just keep out harm. They keep out healing. They keep out joy. They keep out the exact connections you’ve been searching for.

Your softness is not a liability.
Your openness is not naïve.
Your willingness to try again is not foolish.

It’s courageous. It’s fearless. It’s BOLD.

I know, this is easier said than done. I’m telling myself all this today, more than I’m telling everyone else out there. This blog post is more for me than anyone else! I’m reminding myself of all this.

Being Bold Takes Practice

It’s not a one-time choice; it’s something you decide again and again:

• When you introduce yourself to someone new

• When you share your art or your ideas

• When you let people into your world

• When you speak honestly instead of hiding behind “I’m fine”

• When you choose hope over fear, even after disappointment

Boldness is a muscle. The more you use it, the more grounded and self-assured you become—even when things don’t go as planned. So here I go again (cue the Whitesnake song…). It’s time to practice being bold. I think for the near future I will be “faking the funk” so to speak. While I still feel wounded, I will be practicing my boldness by putting on that brave facade, at least for a little while.

Here’s the Beautiful Part

The hurt fades. The lessons stay.
The right people notice.
The right connections blossom.
And you become stronger, wiser, and even more authentically you.

I try to live in the moment. Let things roll off my back. Not hold grudges. Don’t stew on things. Let it go! (cue the Frozen song now). Again, life is simply too short. I don’t want to waste my limited time here being upset.

Being bold means risking pain, yes. But it also means opening the door to everything good, meaningful, transformative, and life-shaping.

So I’m going to keep putting myself out there.

Not because it’s painless—
but because I’m worth the risk. And life is too short.