Don't Argue with MY Experience!
I was watching an interview with Sheila Nevins, world-renowned documentary film maker and producer, on CBS Sunday Morning when something happened that angered me from deep within. Ms. Nevins shared very vulnerably that she knew her mother was never interested in her or in being a mother and the interviewer argued with her. She argued with her! Really?! First of all, was she there to witness the relationship between Sheila and her mother? Second of all, what does it benefit to
Any Given Sunday
I was judged earlier this week and I haven’t been able to shake it. The inability to shake it has had me confused because I fully realized in the moment that the judgment was about the other person’s fear and had nothing to do with me. Nonetheless, it has been rolling around in my head ever since and I just figured out why. Here’s what happened: An acquaintance asked me in passing what I was doing for Easter. I responded, “Nothing and I love it! Easter has never really been a
When Questions are Threatening
When I was 8-years-old I learned questions could get me in trouble, yet I had to ask questions. Questions were the means to calming fears, exploring my world, and learning about everything the peeked my curiosity. I didn't have the capacity to stop asking questions, so instead, I became a very savvy questioner. I asked specific questions of specific people and even in specific contexts or moments. It was one of the first skills I developed to survive my environment and still
Where Our Stories Begin
I didn't realize I had a story until one question forever changed the trajectory of my life. One question. That is all it took. That question came from a dear friend during one of those late night girl's weekend discussions where courageous words come forth freely in the darkness unlike in the light. I was relating a recent interaction with my dad that had landed me in anger and pain, which wasn't unusual, and she was quietly listening. When I finished sharing, she remained q
I am more scared not to
I remember the first time I shared part of my story. I was 9-years-old and the local newspaper held a contest for elementary students to write their autobiographies. It was like I had found my calling! The words flowed out of me and when I was finished, I was scared to submit my story. I didn’t want my parents to read it because I was afraid of disappointing them. I had shared my struggles with believing in God and I was pretty sure they would not appreciate my authenticity.
