Getting Braver...

I'm really trying to work on being brave.

I am generally really NOT brave.

When I was younger, my mom used to try to get me to help her by running things up to peoples' doors for her so that she wouldn't have to get out of the car. The thought of having to knock on someone's door and hand them a paper TERRIFIED me. And these were generally people I knew quite well. Oh, and I was probably 17 or something. (Ok, maybe not 17, but still...I was shy, shy, shy.)

I always hate being different because it makes me stand out. When Jeff and I first moved to Austin and our car had a "Utah" license plate, I was SO embarrassed. I was certain that EVERYONE saw and that it made me SO different and that everyone had all of these preconceived notions. Uhhh...can we say paranoid?!

I had a really hard time at our first and second wards (church congregation) in Texas. I felt like I was the only woman without kids and pursuing a profession. Week after week, I would sit alone during Relief Society (the women's class during the 3rd hour) and feel completely alone. Over time, I started to get to know people a little bit and went to a few activities, but I never REALLY got to know anyone. I was constantly feeling awkward and different.

Eventually, we ended up in our third and final ward. I served in leadership positions, which helped me get to know people, I gave birth to Nathan, which suddenly threw me into similar circumstances with the many young mothers there. I felt like I finally "fit in" somewhere.

And then we moved.

A bazillion miles away.

To England.

And I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. I feel like being a mother of two (especially so close in age and especially that are being carted around in a baby bjorn and stroller on foot) calls attention to me. Even at church, I feel like my life situation is drastically different. There AREN'T many young mothers, there AREN'T many women who aren't working on a career. I also feel like every time I open my mouth, my American accent is screaming, "I'm a clueless foreigner!!!" (Although in reality, they usually can't hear me at all because I talk so softly when I'm embarrassed). And I worry about negative preconceived notions people might have about America. "What must they think of me?!" I wonder.

As I've moved through various experiences in my life, I have started to come to realize that most people just don't have time to sit and stare at me and think about how different I am. I really think that most people just don't notice. They are too busy worrying about themselves or something else. Sure, a select few might be thinking fleeting, judgemental thoughts, but so what? At the same time, a select few might really be in tune enough to notice me and reach out.

It's interesting how feeling so different or lonely makes me focus so intently on what I am doing. Every action I make, every word I speak is overanalyzed in my mind - almost to the point that I can hardly function at times. From experiences I've had on the other end of the situation, I know that I am not analyzing the other persons' actions at all! (Except occasionally to think, 'I want to be a friend to this person because I know what it is like to be on their end...')

And so, armed with this "understanding," I am trying to be brave. Having young children helps motivate me to open the door to my flat and go outside because I don't want them to miss out.

I'm doing things that are stretching me like taffy. To another, they might seem trivial or inconsequential. But to me, they are huge.

I'm walking everywhere with two kids in tow. I'm using public transportation on my own. I'm trying to figure out British libraries, British toddler groups, and British doctors on my own. I'm discovering that the Internet doesn't not seem as useful for information as I'm used to and so I'm forced to talk to people I don't know, whose words are hard for me to understand. I'm living life in a way that is significantly different from what I am used to.

And at moments, I am starting to feel just a little bit brave.