Shawn Marie Graybeal-Sellers

There are concerts I remember because I was there. And then there are concerts I remember because I wasn’t.

A couple of years ago, I had tickets to see Shinedown. I was excited. I love their music. Songs like “Atlas Falls,” “Daylight,” “Second Chance,” and “A Symptom of Being Human” have spoken to me for years. Brent Smith has a way of writing songs that acknowledge life is hard without surrendering hope.

I had every intention of going.

But the day came with rain and crowds and all the chaos that comes with a large concert venue. Somewhere between anticipation and reality, my nervous system simply decided it had had enough.

I stayed home.

For a long time, I was disappointed with myself. I felt like I had missed something important.

But with a little distance, I’ve come to understand that there is a difference between courage and forcing yourself to do something that overwhelms you.

Today, I posted my first video of myself talking to the camera.

That might not sound like much, but for me it was a big step. The difference was that I was sitting in my quiet home. I controlled the environment. I could stop and start over. I could breathe.

The concert was different.

Thousands of people. Rain. Noise. Traffic. No easy escape.

Those are not the same thing.

Sometimes courage looks like standing in front of thousands of people. Sometimes courage looks like sitting in your living room and pressing “Post.” Neither one is more noble than the other.

One of the things I love most about Shinedown is that their music has never felt judgmental to me. Their songs understand that being human is messy — that we struggle, that sometimes we rise and sometimes we retreat. There’s a strength in their music that comes specifically from having fallen down first, not from never falling at all.

Maybe that’s why Brent Smith would understand something I’ve only recently begun to understand myself: missing one concert doesn’t mean I’ve missed my chance. There will be other concerts. Other opportunities. Other songs.

And the truth is, I didn’t need to stand in an arena to hear what those songs were trying to tell me.

I heard them anyway.

This afternoon, sitting safely at home, I listened to “Atlas Falls” and “Second Chance” and “Daylight.” I thought about the video sitting there now, out in the world, something I made and posted without anyone watching over my shoulder. My hands weren’t even shaking by the end.

Not every dream has to happen all at once. Sometimes life asks us simply to take the next step.

And sometimes the music reaches us exactly where we are.

Maybe that’s enough. For now.