My family taught me to be afraid of strangers. There's a word for that: xenophobia.
I know they meant well...but it didn't work for me, and it took me years to get over.
I learned it's good to have family, but it's bad to have family.
Almost everyone honest knows that feeling.
To be brave.
What does that mean? I don't know...
I was encouraged, or not disallowed, to do things that many kids might think were scarey.
I love storms, the dark, i am not uncomfortable being alone. I like to go fast. Climb high. I speak my mind.
Just things like that....
Sounds adventurous...which could contain more than a soupçon of bravery also...
that they had strange ways I chose not to follow.
Marriage can be a completely futile exercise.