Brave: A Painfully Shy Life
The author of Brave states, “I wrote my memoir to explore the nature of severe shyness. . . . Although it was dreadfully difficult to relive the emotions, I spent nine years describing my innermost side in order to reveal the hurt, depression, sadness, and the waste of time and energy that severe shyness causes. From time to time, I insert some poems . . . to illustrate the freedom my mind can now to enjoy roaming outside of the self.”
She writes of “a lifetime marred by shyness” and provides a self-help guide of sorts for overcoming it. The author has persuaded me to conclude that she has accomplished her arduous mission:
The notion of Brave came to me while climbing a long, steep hill on a hot day between sessions. Suddenly I envisioned a wooden nickel with the word “brave” on one side and “shyness” on the other side. I loved it instantly because it illustrated that shyness and bravery are two sides of the same coin—it is difficult to be brave, but that’s what it initially takes to overcome shyness. However, I find that once I conquered shyness, I no longer need to endure being brave.
The book is well written and easy to read, but it can be emotionally draining and may necessitate a break or two. The author describes her experiences with shyness with exquisite sensitivity, challenging me to pay attention by evoking thoughts of my own struggles with shyness. I have begun to encourage my colleagues to peruse this book to enhance our assessment and treatment skills, and I have recommended it to some patients who are working on a recovery plan to promote self-development and social connectivity. It may help to stabilize them as they extricate themselves from their previously deeply siloed lives by engaging with others to find meaning and add value to their lives.
Today I am no longer shy. But after that initial action of seeking help, it took me nearly twenty years of effort to become totally healthy, to direct all my attention to who and what’s before me, wasting not an ounce of energy dealing with shyness. I feel as liberated as a giant sea turtle, who after being lost on land reaches water.
Ms. Rivas-Rose ends her foreword thus: “how I wished they’d been there for me when I was small. . . . Although I couldn’t speak up about the hurt, during the break, I wrote on a piece of a paper, ‘Selective mutes are full of pain when they are alone, away from home’ and dropped it into the suggestion box.”
“There should be no shame in being shy,” writes Helen Rivas-Rose. I concur fully.
