Choosing Courage.
My very happy and courageous grandson.
The other day, my almost–three-year-old grandson took a pretty rough tumble on his scooter. He loves practicing “going fast,” and from my point of view, that little boy doesn’t have a lot of fear. Not in a wild, uncontrollable way—but I think he’s someone who’s wired for adventure. When he and I were talking about his big BAM, he said “Yeah. My Mama got me. She came running.”
Don’t you love that?
A long time ago, someone called me the Courageous President of the company I ran for most of my career. I remember smiling slightly when that title simply showed up on our website after I made what felt like a really big (perhaps risky) decision—to resign a very large account that was sucking the soul out of our team.
Just the act of being called courageous is something I will never forget. It shifted my point of view—and the filter through which I lived my entire life. Sometimes it felt a little silly when people would introduce me with that title at conferences where I was speaking, or in meetings where there were lots of new people in the room. But mostly, that simple word did its job.
I’ve had a lot of things in the last couple of years that have shaken me to the core. I won’t get too personal, but as you age, things just get harder in a lot of ways. And because I’ve been dealing with a lot—a whole lot—my adrenaline and cortisol have been at peak levels.
Like, all the time.
I’ve been on high alert for quite a while now. And here’s the kicker: I’ve actually been having panic attacks. Trust me, if you’ve never had that experience, you can thank your lucky stars. They are downright terrifying, and I’m hesitant to even try to write about them. It’s strange—it’s like everything in your body suddenly feels off. I’ve had four now in less than three months.
I’m lucky. I have a great friend whose husband is also my friend and my doctor (thanks, Jim). We have a plan to calm down my central nervous system, and I’m really hopeful. I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to right my body again so it stops attacking me. And by the way—if you’re dealing with this, find yourself a great and caring doctor.
I’ve been using this last week of the year to really think about the way I want to live my life. That’s what reminded me of being called the Courageous President for so much of my career.
What if I decided to live my life with courage instead of from fear?
What if I stopped seeing—and thinking about—how things might go wrong, and focused instead on living without fear? Like my grandson. That doesn’t mean I won’t get hurt (he took quite a beating to the face when he hit the pavement on his scooter). There will still be hard things to deal with as I continue to get older. But what if I really took that Courageous title back and OWNED it?
What might change?
Fear shrinks your world. Trust expands it. Calm minds make better decisions. I know this for a fact.
Fear asks:
What if everything falls apart?
How do I prevent pain?
How do I make sure this doesn’t happen again?
You can replace those thoughts with more grounded questions:
What is actually happening right now?
What is the next kind, honest step?
What is not mine to control?
I’m courageously choosing to learn from what I’ve been feeling lately. This year, I’m not making resolutions about the scale being a certain number. I’m not setting a goal to walk to Alaska and back (although that might be fun). Instead, I’m going to study and surround myself with courageous people who refuse to live small lives—people who choose to look FEAR straight in the eyes and say, YOU DO NOT OWN ME.
I am so lucky. I mean, really, really lucky. I have lived a big and exciting life. I have the most wonderful family, partner, and friends a person could dream of. And I know one thing for sure—if I can remind myself every morning that I am COURAGEOUS, life will continue to surprise, excite and amaze me.
My word for 2026 is simply and bravely… courageous.
XO, Robbin
