Real Women. Real Stories. Real Bravery. 

Yay, It’s Monday!! Time for another Live Brave post!! No doubt today’s contributor is brave! This girl is full of life, creativity & is an influencer! Thank you Rihanna for owning your story & Living Brave!

Brave. That’s always been a word that has resonated with me. As a young girl, I always thought being brave looked like Pocahontas as she fearlessly fell in love with someone against her father’s will; or Ariel as she traded in her mermaid tail for legs and embarked on a whole new life. But I quickly learned that being brave wasn’t just for Disney princesses. Bravery was essential to survive.

Bravery was what pushed me to dive off the high diving board after joining the dive team when I was seven.

Bravery helped me face each day when my uncle was tragically killed and my family began to fall apart right before my eight year old eyes.

Brave was what I saw my mom become as she had to care for a family of four young children while in the midst of losing her brother.

Bravery was what motivated me to move at the age of 18 to a new city by myself to pursue my dreams of singing.

Bravery guided me while I found myself in rehab at the age of 19 for an eating disorder that had taken over my life.

Bravery was what stood by me when, at 26 years old, I decided that bulimia could no longer have a place in my life and I chased after recovery like I’ve never chased after anything before.

I understand what being brave is. I also understand what shame is.

I recently found myself sitting across from a counselor as he watched me use 3/4 of his tissue box, sobbing about how I feel so defeated in my life. As I mentioned, since I was a young girl I had struggled with eating disorders. Everything from anorexia and bulimia, to binge eating, has tormented me for most of my life. When I was 26, I moved to Redding, California to attend ministry school. My first year here was a dream come true. I felt that I grew in ways that I never dreamed possible, and for the first time in my adult life I finally could say that I was recovered from the grasps of bulimia. My newfound freedom turned me into this poster child, so to speak, when it came to eating disorder recovery. I was asked to speak at events about my journey, as well as help mentor those who were struggling. I was perfectly content in my new life because being free was all I ever wanted. Those who have struggled with any sort of addiction can relate.

So how did I end up in a counseling session two and a half years later because I, once again, can’t stand the sight of my own body? Looking back, I can see where I made conscious decisions that had the potential to jeopardize my recovery. Once I felt comfortable in recovery, I decided that I wanted to try to lose a little weight. I began slowly restricting my calories, as well as certain foods, to help me do so. I began over-exercising by going to the gym two times a day for hours, and obsessing over every bite of food I put into my mouth. It didn’t help that I had a roommate that would project her own insecurities onto me by making slight jabs about my appearance and looks in an effort to feel better about herself.

Slowly over time, my self-esteem began to plummet to the point where I didn’t want to be seen in public because I felt ugly, fat, and like a failure. I didn’t relapse in the sense of using bulimia again, but I did become obsessed with my weight and food, and began believing the lie that my appearance was what made me valuable. I avoided social events, and wasn’t even willing to talk to my close friends about how I felt because shame told me that if I let people into my process, they would see that I was a fake.

You see, once I began to take my focus off who God called me to be, shame came in and reminded me of who I once was. Shame is what kept me from reaching out and getting help. Shame is what told me I was now unlovable because I had gained a few pounds. Shame is what helped me build a self-made prison because it said that I should fight this battle alone.

As I sat across from this counselor, my head spinning from all the defeat and self-hate that overwhelmed me, I realized in that moment that I was anything but weak. I was brave. Being brave means to face or meet a challenge courageously. I finally had stood up to shame and decided that no matter the cost, I will get my freedom back.

Right now, being brave to me looks like going out in public, and believing that I don’t need to have the perfect body for people to love me.

Being brave looks like walking with my head up into church, even if I have to repeat to myself over and over that my looks don’t define my worth.

Being brave looks like calling my friends when I’m having a bad day, and allowing them to see me fully where I am.

Being brave means taking an honest look at my mistakes and saying, “I am not afraid of you anymore.”

Being brave looks like putting one foot in front of the other while keeping my eyes on Jesus.

I hope you’ll be brave today too.

Rihanna is 29 years old and lives in Redding, California where she just completed Bethel School of Ministry. Her passions include writing, singing, long drives, and desserts.