Learn to Be Brave Again

Reckless? No. Risk-capable? Absolutely.

We’re not born cautious. We’re born bold. Brave. Loud. We climb things we shouldn’t. Ask awkward questions. Take leaps without fear of failure—or of looking like an idiot. Then life happens.

Bit by bit, we trade that instinctive bravery for responsibility. For reputation. For routine. We start measuring risk in salary bands, school runs, insurance excesses, and what the neighbours might say. It sounds sensible. Mature. Professional.

But really? It’s just fear. Wearing a very nice watch.

Now let’s be clear—I’m not about to leave my wife, abandon the kids, and buy a yacht to sail around the world. This isn’t that kind of midlife meltdown. I’ve been happily married for years, I’m immensely proud of the three young adults we’ve raised, and I’ve built a life I genuinely love.

But… Even with all that, there are still moments when I catch myself missing that younger version of me—the one who acted before he overthought. Who wasn’t scared to look stupid. Who felt the fear and just cracked on anyway.

We don’t lose that part of ourselves. We just bury it under layers of caution and comfort.

So… where did our bravery go?

We got trained and conditioned out of it. We got rewarded for keeping the peace. Praised for following the plan. Promoted for avoiding risk. We became good at protecting things—our status, our income, our image. But not always our happiness and enjoyment.

And that’s when the questioning starts. The itch. The mental restlessness. It might get labelled a “midlife crisis,” but truthfully, that moment of reflection can come at 28, 48, or 68. It’s just your inner compass trying to get your attention.

Bravery isn’t always big or dramatic

Let’s ditch the Hollywood version. Bravery isn’t about skydiving or launching a tech start-up in a shipping container. And let’s not pretend that bravery exists in a vacuum. When your finances are on the ropes, your health is shaky, or your mental state is barely holding it together, of course it’s harder to be bold. That’s why Mental Wealth matters. Bravery needs a foundation. You can’t leap if the floor’s crumbling underneath you.

Bravery might be:

Having the uncomfortable conversation you’ve been avoiding for weeks.
Admitting something’s not working—even if everyone else thinks you’re flying.
Doing something just for fun, with no productivity outcome, no monetisation plan, and no guilt.

I remember once staying far too long in a business project that had long passed its sell-by date. On paper, it still ticked the boxes. But I knew in my gut it was done. Comfortable? Yes. Exciting? Not even close.

It wasn’t until a mate in my support circle told me straight—”Mike, you’re making do. You’re playing small.” That hit. Hard. And it reminded me that bravery isn’t always a bold leap. Sometimes it’s a whispered “enough.”

And what if… everything changed?

Here’s a tough one for you. If your partner passed away tomorrow (again, hypothetical—my wife is absolutely fine), what would you do differently? If your kids moved overseas permanently, or your job disappeared next week—where would your heart go first?

It’s not about being morbid. It’s about clarity.

There’s a very thin line between building a life you love… and building one that’s just convincing enough to stop people asking if you’re OK.

That’s the danger zone—where bravery gets replaced with inertia and the spark starts to flicker out.

The war on risk is killing our fun

Somewhere along the line, risk became the enemy. Now everything needs a waiver, an insurance policy, a disclaimer. We plan more than we play. We calculate instead of create.

The Western world has become obsessed with eliminating all risk—and it’s strangling our joy and creativity.

But life doesn’t come with a guarantee. It never has. And trying to remove all risk is like trying to breathe without lungs.

Zero risk = zero fun. Zero growth. Zero adventure.

I’m not talking about being reckless. I’m talking about being risk-capable. Bravery isn’t about blindly charging into chaos. It’s about knowing how to step forward with clarity, awareness, and a bit of fire in your belly.

Relearning bravery – not from scratch, just from storage

This isn’t about reinventing yourself from the ground up. It’s about remembering.

You’ve done brave things before. You’ve made hard decisions. You’ve said the uncomfortable truth. You’ve taken leaps when it mattered.

You haven’t forgotten how to be brave. You’ve just filed it under “not right now.”

So here’s a thought:

Pick one thing that scares you—not terrifies you, just enough to make your stomach wobble a bit.
Say yes to it.
Tell someone about it.
And do it anyway.

Bravery builds like compound interest. One decision, then another. Small steps. One honest conversation. One risk embraced. One permission slip to have fun just because.

Learn to Be Brave Again

Learn to Be Brave Again

Reckless? No. Risk-capable? Absolutely.

Bravery isn’t always big or dramatic

And what if… everything changed?

The war on risk is killing our fun

Relearning bravery – not from scratch, just from storage

Further Reading (a.k.a. People Who Aren’t Talking BS):

Final thought