There’s approximately 5 people who read this title and went “ooh Fearless! I know that blog!” The rest of you have no idea what I’m talking about, so let me quickly bring you up to speed. Approximately 5 years ago, I curated and wrote for a blog named Fearless. It was a little more serious and deep than this blog tends to be, I was in a season of major, major growth and used it as my outlet for these things. At some point, after a particularly gnarly breakup, I used it as too much of an outlet. I wrote a scathing post about my ex’s friends that while the heart behind it was essentially good (make sure you’re surrounding yourself with people that care about you, because you may end up depressed if not), the delivery was all. wrong. If we’re being candid, I called them assholes. Not my best moment. And understandably, said people were less than thrilled about this post, and I got called out for it. Honestly, rightfully so – but my pride and pain from being rejected culminated into a lot of raw, hurt feelings. It just was all around not pretty. Fearless began to die a slow and sad death after the fact. I didn’t feel safe writing anymore, I didn’t trust myself to not be petty, and I was just all-around hurt. I didn’t stop writing completely, I have archives of Word documents and enough journals to keep Barnes and Nobles in business for some time.
Ironically, a lot of that writing has been about becoming actually fearless. Becoming brave. On the header of the old blog, I had this Taylor Swift quote (the irony is killiiiiing me):
“To me, Fearless is not the absense of fear. It’s not being completely unafraid. To me, Fearless is having fears. Fearless is having doubts. Lots of them. To me, Fearless is living in spite of those things that scare you to death.”
Living in spite of those things that scare you to death. How little I knew when I started that blog 10 years ago and chose this as its mantra. I had no idea that I’d be walking through a hard breakup with the boy I thought I was going to marry, that came hand in hand with a lot of lies and and a lot of chains. That I’d later walk through almost losing my favorite little girl, and the months upon months of debilitating fear that would result. That my anxiety and depression, while present at the time, would get worse before they got better. Or that the Lord would lead me to talking openly about mental health, even when it’s hard and scary as hell. I definitely didn’t know that 6+ years after the death of Fearless, I’d end up having a really cool conversation with some of the exact people that I hurt with that previously mentioned post. The Lord would lead me to be fearless and humble (ouuuuch) and own my crap, and the amount of good that would come from it would be insurmountable. He would use one of those conversations to bind up and heal almost decade old wounds that I didn’t even know I was still carrying (rejection is a bitch, y’all). He would use truth and kindness to set me free of things that still stung, even through marriage and babies and being over it all.
I’m rambling, but at the same time I just want you to see and know what He can do. That things always come full circle. I had a blog as a naive, often immature 20 year old named Fearless; with no idea that that word would become the battle cry of my life. And at 28, one of my biggest passions is encouraging other women (and men) to live that way. Pushing aside doubts and fears to be brave as hell. My sweet, wonderful husband now uses words like “gumption” and “wild at heart” to describe me and my whole life lights up, because that was what that 21 year old wanted so badly. And Jesus was the way to it. So I guess you could say I’m back? I’m officially throwing my hat back into the blogging ring after a year or two of dipping my toes in from a safe distance. And there may only be about 3 people that that registers for on any level; but it’s okay, because I’m doing this for me. I’m doing it for that 21 year old Blake that knew grit and moxie and fearlessness were possible and what the Lord wanted for her, but was grasping at the wrong straws to find it. I’m doing it for the 28 year old wife and mama and business owner and general badass I’ve become. I’m doing this because I love to write, and am becoming a little more sure every time I do that maybe Jesus gifted me with these words. Maybe I’m supposed to share them. I’m not sure (confidence in your giftings is weird, isn’t it?), but I’m getting there.
So here we go. Should be one hell of a ride.