The Other Alternative

People often call me brave.

And while that might look true from the outside, the reality is—I didn’t leap because I was fearless. I leapt because the alternative was worse.

When I’m faced with a decision, I don’t just look at the risk of moving forward—I ask myself, what’s the other alternative? 

For example: if I’m standing on the edge of a cliff and the only options are to jump or be eaten by the lion behind me… I’ll jump every time. Not because I love the unknown, but because I refuse to let fear devour me.

That choice—to move forward, even shakily—is a thread that’s shown up again and again in my life.

Lions, and Tigers, and Agoraphobia…Oh Sh*t

At 22, I was diagnosed with agoraphobia. I had just escaped an abusive relationship. I was a single mom with an infant, no family support, no emotional stability, and no real sense of safety. I couldn’t leave my house without spiraling into panic. Just touching the doorknob sent my nervous system into chaos.

But I had to work. I had to feed my baby. I had to keep a roof over our heads. And the truth is, the alternative—losing everything or worse yet, having my son taken away—was more terrifying than the panic itself.

So I chose to face it.

Little by little, I took steps forward. I found lifelines. I figured out what helped me regulate. I started to untangle the trauma that lived in my body. Underneath the diagnosis wasn’t a broken woman—there was a young girl who had never felt safe and was finally asking to be seen.

And this took time. It certainly wasn’t easy. But I did it.

And I’ve carried that question—what’s the other alternative?—with me ever since.

Every time life has invited me to grow, to stretch, to break old cycles or step into the unknown, I’ve asked myself: What will happen if I don’t?

Sometimes staying stuck is the scariest option of all.

Forward Isn’t Always Graceful

Forward motion isn’t always graceful. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it looks like crying in your car, or walking into a job interview when your hands are shaking, or getting out of bed when your soul feels heavy.

But forward is forward.

And your nervous system doesn’t need perfection. What it needs is consistency. Safety. And a little proof that it’s possible.

So no—I don’t think I’m brave.

I just made a choice. Again and again. To choose healing over fear. To choose the unknown over what was slowly killing me. To choose the leap—because the other alternative wasn’t really an option.

If you’re on the edge of something right now, and fear is whispering “stay,” I invite you to ask yourself gently:

What’s the other alternative?

And then move toward the light, even if your legs are trembling.

I promise—you’re stronger than you think.