How to Speak Your Truth (without being burned at the stake)
By Summer Bacon
Been there, done that. Being burned at the stake, that is. Sometimes figuratively, and sometimes literally. When I was nine years old I was awakened in the middle of the night by the belief that my house was burning down. Out of a dead sleep (no pun intended) I got up on my knees and groggily pounded the wall next to my bed, “Fire! Fire!” I tried to shout through my exhaustion. Even amidst the playing out of this past lifetime scenario my young logical mind knew that there was no fire there in my bedroom in 1969. But, I was not me…I was a young woman, in the late 1700s, and someone had deliberately set fire to my home. I was about to die because of someone’s belief that I was a witch.
I believe that night it was both of my parents who came to console me. Not the first time for either, and not the last. It would be another eight years before, as a 17 year old teenager, I would begin crawling into bed with my parents at night, clinging to my mom and begging her to not let me go out of body again.
Now, in 2003, after decades of trying to make sense of my life, and feeling reasonably successful at that, I stood in front of forty-five brave souls who attended my first Get Real! mini-seminar, about to speak my truth once again.
A beautiful young lady, nearly sixteen years old, sat in the front row. She nervously dropped her lip gloss just minutes into my lecture. I wondered whether she was bored.
During the break she came up to me. “You know something?” she said, “I believe what you say about speaking your truth.” She was specifically referring to my point that, if you don’t tell someone you love them for fear that you might be rejected, you may never know if they love you back. You might just miss the chance to be with your soul mate. ”When I go home tonight I’m going to call the guy who dumped me. I love him so much, and he’s going to move out of state, and I don’t want to miss the chance to tell him how much I care about him,” she said courageously.
Needless to say, I was plenty flattered to think I’d said something that impressed a teenager.
Well, call him she did. A renewed friendship was born out of her courage, and although the boy she loved didn’t express his love back, they slowly became very good buddies, wrestling in the hallway, flirting in art class, and occasionally talking on the phone.
This young lady talked to me again on another day. “I think I’m going to tell him that I love him, and I really want this relationship.” She was hurting, and her words were coming from this hurt.
“I’m not so sure he would hear you, sweetheart,” I said, “He already knows that you care about him. Now behave as if you care about him. Demonstrate it. You can’t control his feelings…you can only take responsibility for yours. So, allow yourself to love him by talking to him, teasing him, playing with him…in other words, just be yourself! I’ll bet if you do, he’ll take notice.”
I bombed with this one. She became cold and angry. Oops.
I shut my mouth, and went my way in peace, love and harmony. Either she would eventually hear me or she wouldn’t.
Four weeks later I received a phone call on my cell phone. It was this young lady.
“Um, hi,” she said softly.
“Hi!” I said cheerfully.
“Um, guess what?” she said.
“What?”
“He and I have decided we’re going to work things out. I didn’t make that phone call, and I did what you suggested, and he just told me that he has had more fun with me than anyone else since he moved to this state,” she said, obviously giddy with joy.
“That’s wonderful!”
“Yeah, I just decided to be myself, and I talk to him and tease him just like you said to do, and we’ve gotten really close. I don’t worry about how I look or what I say. I just speak my truth, and it works!”
“Wow. Good for you! I’m proud of you, kiddo.”
“Um...you know...I was thinking. I think it was a good thing that he broke up with me before. I’ve learned a really important lesson,” she shared so vulnerably.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Well, no one wants to be with someone who is always depressed and doesn’t love herself. I really like myself now,” she said like a spiritual pro.
“Sweetheart, you’re ahead of most of the world if you’ve figured that one out at the age of sixteen!”
She didn’t say much in response, but I knew that she knew I was right.
Oh yeah, by the way, I felt pretty doggone good about myself too after hearing her story. Sometimes it’s scary to speak your truth… especially in front of forty-five people.
And, especially when the young lady in the front row who just dropped her lip gloss is your own daughter.