Self-Compassion: Courage

By: Carol Doyel

                  “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.” ~Brene Brown

I’ve never considered myself a particularly courageous person. But as I reflect on my life, I see that courage often comes quietly—through hard choices made in the face of fear.

In 2001, I made one of those choices: I left everything familiar in Seattle and moved to Central Oregon. My oldest daughter had just graduated high school, and I felt it was the perfect time for a fresh start. It was a decision I wrestled with deeply—praying, pondering, questioning. I had come to a painful point in my life and marriage, and I knew something had to change. I felt led by God, and though the unknown terrified me, I moved forward.

The move meant leaving my daughter as she started college, leaving extended family and a close-knit group of friends. It meant walking away from a steady job, a home we had just built, and my sister who struggled with mental illness and relied on me for support.

Looking back, I see now that it took far more courage than I gave myself credit for. Acts of courage often arise in “fight or flight” moments—when survival or love compels us to act. Our compassion, for ourselves or others, fuels those decisions.

I didn’t think of it as brave at the time—I just knew I couldn’t stay where I was. Self-compassion played a quiet, essential role. I loved myself enough to believe I deserved peace. I leaned heavily on my faith, knowing I couldn’t do it alone. Without God, I wouldn’t have had the strength to do it.

But courage begins with honesty. We must face our truth and admit when something in our life needs to change. When we recognize and accept that truth, we open the door to freedom. The truth will set us free.

Choosing to value your well-being—emotionally, spiritually, and mentally—is an act of courage.

Now, more than two decades later, I can say without a doubt that it was one of the most courageous decisions I’ve ever made. It didn’t come with fanfare or dramatic gestures. It came in the form of quiet resolve, of choosing growth over comfort, of letting go so I could move forward.

And perhaps that’s what courage really looks like—not the absence of fear, but the willingness to move through it with faith, self-compassion, and conviction, trusting that something better is waiting on the other side.

Where in your life do you need courage?

What would it look like to practice self-compassion in the midst of fear and uncertainty?