The Real Definitions of Bravery and Luxury

I’m always astounded when someone tells me that I’m brave for having done the things I’ve done or made the choices I’ve made or survived the traumas that have been visited upon me. And if I’m honest, I also find it slightly irritating. It’s not as if I were presented with other, more pleasant opportunities, and I said to myself, “No, I’d much rather take that path over there, which requires me to walk over hot coals for 10 years. That would build character.”

If someone were caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, I suppose choosing either one would make that person appear brave. But really, those could only be considered brave choices if there were also other options. The choice of having no other choice is not really a courageous choice. If an angry grizzly bear were charging toward me and I knew he would tear me apart, and my only other choice were to jump off a cliff into the ocean where I might be insanely lucky enough to survive, then jumping off the cliff wouldn’t be brave, it would be expedient.

For what it’s worth, I also do not consider extreme sports or foolhardy stunts to be brave. Voluntarily hanging by one hand over an abyss or climbing up the outside of a skyscraper isn’t brave unless you’re trying to save Fay Wray from King Kong. Pretty much every other reason is arrogant and selfish. You’re putting first responder’s lives at risk, you’re terrifying your loved ones, and you’re inspiring others to be similarly stupid, all so you can have the adrenaline rush and the attention.

Bravery is making hard choices when you have other, less difficult options. Firemen don’t have to go into burning buildings to save people. They could choose, instead, to become accountants. If someone is being attacked, you can pretend not to see what’s happening and go about your business (as a disappointing number of us will do), or you can step in and try to intervene so that no one is killed.

This will demonstrate how brave I am. In the scenario above, would I step in? It really depends on the circumstances. Yes, I’d call 911. Definitely. 100% of the time. And I would raise hell from a safe distance. Would I do more? I’d have to answer several questions first. Does it appear to be a fair fight? Are there any weapons involved? Are there other people within shouting distance? If an adult were beating a child or a big man were beating a little woman, and I couldn’t get others to come running, I might jump in if I could find a length of pipe or a trash can lid and there were no guns involved. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t. But I’d probably beat myself up about it for the rest of my life. Is that brave? (And where does self-preservation end and cowardice begin? Perhaps that’s a topic for another blog post, but I’m not sure I have the answers.)

It’s all about options, isn’t it? I thought about that this morning, when I experienced a very common dilemma. I woke up about an hour and a half before the alarm was to go off. I was about to roll over and go back to sleep, but I realized that I had a slight urge to pee. Should I get up and go to the bathroom? Ugh, but I wanted to go back to sleep. If I got up, that might wake me up more, especially since my husky/retriever has this annoying tendency to occupy my spot on the bed in the meantime, and then magically transform herself into an unmovable bag of wet cement.

But that annoying inner voice inside my head knows me all too well. It said, “If you don’t go to the bathroom, you’ll just lie here and worry that you’re ignoring that need, and you won’t sleep anyway. Then you’ll be forced to get up and pee even closer to alarm time, and by then there will be no point in even trying to go back to sleep. Just get it over with.”

There I was, in a miniature version of being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea (only this sea had the potential of being yellow in color). My stock inner response to that inner voice is, “Dammit, you bully! Alright! I’m getting up, already. Jeez.”

But on this glorious, wonderful day, I suddenly realized that I had a third option, because I had not set the alarm. I was taking the day off from work. I could get up and pee, I could lie there and worry that I wasn’t getting up to pee, or I could roll over and go back to sleep, safe in the knowledge that I could get up any time I please, because I had the entire day to sleep or not sleep, pee or not pee, or do anything else that floated my boat. So I went back to sleep. And as I slept, I wrote this blog post in my dreams. That may not have been brave, but it was blissful.

That, Dear Reader, brings us to the true definition of luxury. It is options devoid of urgency. Bravery is the least of your worries at times like these.

3 responses to “The Real Definitions of Bravery and Luxury”

lyn

Feb 28, 2025 at 4:38 pm

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvNKbJnmWn8 When your options are a matter of life and death, what are you willing to sacrifice? When it doesn’t affect you personally, in the moment, it’s a luxury to rationalize your lack of involvement, but not standing up for those more vulnerable than you only delays your forced future personal involvement. The quote, ‘First they came for the Communists and I did not speak out…’ has never been more appropriate than today. Small acts of bravery add up if enough of us speak out. (We can display symbols of the Ukrainian flag in our windows and hang ribbons of it’s colors in protest against these atrocities.) What privileged luxuries are you willing to forgo, now, so they will not come for you next? They’re already coming for me because I don’t even have the illusionary privileges of the white middle class, but when they’re done with me, guess who’s next. Please don’t ignore these warnings as you’ve told me not to stress over things I can’t control. It’s too late for me. I won’t survive all the cuts to my benefits that kept me alive and from homelessness, but you still have a chance to fight for a better future if you make sacrifices now. Small acts of bravery. Make them, find them and point them out while you still have a platform to make some good trouble. Be the courageous, unapologetic advocate that you’ve encouraged your readers to be. Be the Barb whose brave words lifted us and inspired us to be better. Be the Barb who wouldn’t take the time to question their own safety before saving the life of an endangered child. Where did that Barb go?

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1. The View from a Drawbridge
  
  Mar 1, 2025 at 10:48 am
  
  Wow, that’s harsh, Lyn, even for you. I suppose it’s easy to assume that my blog is 100 percent of me, but it isn’t.
  I still maintain, though, that anxiety over things you can’t control is an exercise in futility, and it’s exactly what they want. While we run around screaming “Henny Penny, the sky is falling!” ( https://americanliterature.com/childrens-stories/henny-penny-the-sky-is-falling ) they’re doing everything they want to do. Our energy can be much better spent.
  What we need to do, dear Lyn, is calm the fuck down, gather our energy, focus, and yes, do those things that we can.
  I am doing things, but not all of them are in the public eye, as is prudent these days. I’m also being supportive of others, sometimes in the public eye, sometimes not. As long as there is breath in our bodies, it is never too late for us. What we are seeing is the fall of Trump’s Rome, and he’s taking a lot of the underpinnings of our democracy and society with him, which is horrible. But steps are being taken to prevent what we can. Judges are blocking him at every turn. People are getting increasingly horrified and speaking out, and those who can affect change, when they see a way to do so, are taking steps. I genuinely believe that America is waking up, and while there will be ashes and rubble, what rises from this will be new and, one would hope, even better than before. I really believe that.
  Please let me know what sacrifices I should make that I’m not already making, that will actually have an impact, and I’ll make them. As for small acts of bravery, it really insults me that after all these years you assume that I am not already doing that on a daily basis.
  I have two months of blog posts already written up, and in queue, and some of them will sound like the “Old Barb” to you. Mostly they won’t. I honestly think that writing about other things so people can have a respite, a chance to catch their breath, is a service, too. Apparently you disagree. But it’s my blog, and I can write what I want. I hope you’ll continue to read it, but it’s entirely your choice. And besides, Lyn, I’m no influencer. I’m lucky if 10 people read this thing in a single day, You are about the only one who makes comments. Haven’t you noticed? (And I’ve always welcomed those comments, as you well know.) My platform is so small as to be laughable. I’m mainly writing for future historians to know that we all didn’t hop on the MAGA train and cheer as we rode off the cliff. Because they need to know that this shit can happen even if everybody is not on board, so they need to take care.
  If you were a Facebook friend, which you are welcome to be if you do Facebook, you’d see that I do post quite a bit of important information about current events for the few people who actually bother to listen to me. I offer up a safe space for those who need one. I give advice about preparing for the worst.
  If, by the “Old Barb”, you want someone who will hysterically panic and rage, I’m sorry I can’t be that for you. I’m hoping that Barb is gone, because right now there’s too much at stake to indulge in that foolishness. And panic and anxiety? How’s that working for you? How’s that doing for your health? And as it impacts your health, how is that allowing you to live to fight another day? Think hard about ways that you can make a difference, Lyn, and think hard about ways you can protect yourself, and focus on that. The rest is only adding to your stress load, and that is only doing you damage. You live in a Blue state so you still have some tiny bit of a safety net, so you’re much better off than those in red states, who, ironically, voted for this nightmare.
  Just because I am refusing to plunge headlong into the toxicity 24/7, just because I’m listening to audiobooks rather than conspiracy theories, does not mean that I’m minimizing your plight or thinking everything will always be sunshine and lollipops for me if only I let a smile be my umbrella. I have not been stepping back because I’m resting on my white middle class privilege (and while I own the white part, I have been relegated to the white trash bin for the bulk of my life, so the middle class epithet chafes more than a bit.) I have been stepping back to avoid overwhelm, to gather strength, to observe. And what I’m seeing, clearer than most, it seems, is a lot of people are lost in an anxiety feeding frenzy, snapping at their own tails and accomplishing NOTHING. I’m trying to figure out ways to avoid that.
  I know you’re afraid. You have good reason to be. I know you’re frustrated. That’s understandable. And anyone who doesn’t feel a certain level of outrage has to be sucking on nitrous oxide.
  I’m glad you find me a safe space to lash out at. But jeez, Lyn, if after all this time I haven’t earned a little bit of the benefit of the doubt with you, then I’m at a loss as to what to add to this debate, other than the fact that as an autistic person, I’ve been misunderstood, dismissed, and discounted my entire life, so I’m used to this. But it disappoints me to see it in you.
  Please don’t take this as being dismissive or sarcastic or what have you, but I hope you’ll take about 10 minutes and watch some videos of dachshunds or something before responding. I genuinely think it might do you good. And I do want good for you, Lyn. The worst thing we can do in times like these is lose sight of the beauty, joy, and humor in the world. Without that, what are we fighting for?
  
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2. The View from a Drawbridge
  
  Mar 2, 2025 at 8:49 am
  
  And furthermore, since I lost a lot of sleep over this last night, I’ll add this. Do you honestly think I’d sit there and let a child get killed? In the post above, I SAID I’d call 911 and raise hell from a distance and fight if guns weren’t involved. My raising hell from a distance would most likely deter or slow down imminent death until others could safely intervene. The Barb that you think would get shot, and thus die and still not save the child, NEVER EXISTED, Lyn. Not ever. Being heroic does not mean being a total idiot. After seeing how hurt this whole exchange made me, Dear Husband recommended the following podcast. I have yet to listen to it, so I don’t know if it supports your arguments or mine, but anyway, here’s the link. https://open.spotify.com/episode/56ENuO0LODJ6uyyyCsuZeq?context=spotify%3Ashow%3A20Gf4IAauFrfj7RBkjcWxh Do with it what you will.
  Oh, and as further evidence of my total lack of influence, that post I wrote yesterday, entitled “Enough! Stand Up for Us!”, which I shared with everyone I could think of, did not get subsequently shared by ANYONE. Not one person. It didn’t even get liked. Or commented upon. And I thought it was a great idea, although time sensitive. So there’s what sacrifice gets me. You’re welcome.
  
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The View from a Drawbridge

The random musings of an autistic bridgetender with entirely too much time on her hands.