Finding My Bravery

My father gave me the best advice I ever received. In 2010, I had just graduated college. I decided to move to Chicago as soon as the diploma hit my hand. I had never been to Chicago, but it was my destination anyway. I moved away from home to go to college and wanted to go even farther afield. I wanted to feel independent.

When I made this plan to move to a place I’d never been and where I knew no one, it felt bold. It felt audacious. It felt like a good omen for the rest of my life. Two weeks later, as I tried to pack a box inside my childhood bedroom, it felt terrifying. The anxiety spiral began.

Like all anxiety spirals that occurred in my childhood home, it included a lot of walking around the house moaning. My entire teenagehood was spent walking around moaning. It was as if my parents were haunted by a particularly hormonal ghost.

So, there I am, haunting my parents’ house, getting closer every second to a full-on sob, when my steps finally took me to the kitchen. My father, who had heard at least four years of moaning at this point, knew these were serious. They were life-changing decision moans, not homecoming-dance moans.

When I made this plan to move to a place I’d never been and where I knew no one, it felt bold. It felt audacious. It felt like a good omen for the rest of my life.

I wailed, “I can't move. I won’t. I’ll live here in my childhood bedroom forever!”

My father grabbed me very gently by the shoulders, looked me straight in the eye and said: “Katie, do you want to die a coward?” (He worried for the rest of time that he was too harsh.)

But, for me? Those words changed my life.

The clouds parted. The heavens opened. I felt a clarity of purpose that led me to the midwest and then to New York City and, again, to Los Angeles. I've made (and kept) bold plans and acted on audacious ideas.

Whenever I’m afraid, I think of that question. Will I die a coward? I’m happy to say: absolutely not.