Tomorrow as many as 35 women and a few men are going to tell their truth. Yep. They will share their truth in our new book, "This is my story, but it is not my life." I hope they will feel better too. My guess is they will. They absolutely will.
I could not think of what to share this time around. This is my 3rd published truth story. And it was not for a lack of having nothing to say. It was the choosing of what hidden part was ready to reveal itself. The hardest part of truth talking is when everyone around you has a certain perception of you and your telling will shatter that paradigm. I have learned that that shattering comes with the truth telling part.
Would I tell people that how I have deep fears? Fears of becoming my alcoholic mother, a deep fear of being alone if my only remaining sibling were to die first. Would I share my guilt of being the first one in my immediate family to break out of poverty and make it over to what they call "the made it" side? Would I tell of how I move so fast because if I stop too long I will think too much? And sometimes thinking brings sadness.
Do I just share another uncomfortable piece of me and whatever that new revealed piece is that I share, I will own it? I will embrace it as an essential part of who I am and share how God is using even that piece to craft his work in me. Do I tell the world that I have learned to love even the hidden parts of me? And that even though some parts have not been revealed to others, I know what they are and embrace how they came to be a part of me.
The truth is this. I am complicated. We are complicated. The difference between my new self and my old self is my insatiable desire to use everything inside me to discover the best parts of me. And through that discovery I desire to love all of me in return. And that is my truth. It really doesn't matter what anyone thinks. It matters that those hidden parts had their chance with light. And that I might live longer.