The Right to My Story

In the recent past I have become aware of how much I value authenticity. Perhaps it goes hand in hand with my love of connecting to others, but I have always valued a platform of being open and honest about one’s self and not needing to hide. Hiding, to me, feels dishonest and yucky and keeping something from someone sometimes feels like I am living a lie. I’m sure this bent towards authenticity comes from a deep craving for it within my family. Growing up I always knew there were secrets; looks and glances were exchanged, voices hushed, certain topics of conversation ceased when certain people walked into the room. I was a pretty intuitive kid so I noticed this. It wasn’t until years later, until my 30’s actually, that many of the family secrets were finally brought into the open and most of what I guessed to be true was actually found to be true. There were large parts of my life that began to make sense and the sharing of secrets opened up into a light space that made interactions not quite so uncomfortable. 

I can understand why this drive towards authenticity exists in me. Always wanting to know the truth about what was going on but never really knowing it probably led to a huger for truth and a motivation to just be up front with who I was. Interestingly enough, authenticity, while always a value, has been a learned practice for me—safe authenticity has not always been present in my life. I grew up in a culture where authenticity was required in the form of accountability for punishment, judgment and shaming purposes. Openness and questions (about life, love, faith, the world, etc.) were typically met with a harsh attitude in which people would use the information they gathered against you when the time was right. I developed a struggle within me swinging back and forth between wanting desperately to be authentic and known by others and fearing the repercussions of someone using my story and my deepest thoughts against me. 

In doing my own work I have come to recognize not only my own value of authenticity and why it has been so difficult for it in the past but I have started to learn how to live out that value in my day to day life. In my professional life I live in a world that consists of complete authenticity—free from judgement and harsh criticism; it’s the beauty of therapy. Personally I have chosen for the people who I most closely surround myself with to also be people who I can be open and honest with—who refrain from judgement and shaming and who offer their own authenticity back to me. 

In fact, it’s gotten to the point where I sometimes naively believe that no one will judge me for my story—the life I have created for myself honors the value of authenticity and absence of judgementalism and I sub-consciously expect for others to offer me the same. The sad truth is that, though ideal, this is not reality. 

This is not a concept I have understood with ease. In my mind I did one of those “opposite sides of the spectrum” thing—because I had spent so many years inhibited from authenticity it seemed only natural to swing to the opposite side of the spectrum and have a ‘no-holds-barred’ mentality and let anyone know anything about me. But as we know, neither side of the spectrum is really great to camp out on. 

        I have seen this to be very evident in dating. Men who I went on a handful of dates with would know, sometimes, intimate details of my past and relationships simply because they asked the question “why are you still single?” In my mind I felt an obligation to let them know the truth—I grew up in an uber religious home and once I got out of that I was in an abusive relationship from which I have done a lot of therapeutic work on and am finally at a place to have something to give to another. While entirely true, this was being said to someone who had not yet earned a position in my life to know this. They barely knew my last name—they certainly didn’t need to know the wounds of mine that had just healed or were still healing! 

Part of my desire for authenticity is also because I don’t enjoy playing games. While I don’t need to know all the minute details of someone within the first couple dates, I appreciate someone being able to share with me appropriate amounts of their life at appropriate times in the relationship. But it seems that in today’s day and age this process, like so many others, is a bit warped in what information is requested/expected of another in comparison to the level of the relationship. In my naivety I have believed that if someone is going to ask a personal question they have a level of investment that will allow for me to offer a more detailed or personal answer. 

As an example: I have been asked, multiple times, on the first date if I have ever been pregnant. Not do I have kids or do I want to have kids. They don’t even ask if I am currently pregnant. They have asked if I have ever been pregnant. How do you, safely, answer a question like that? What if I say “no” and the relationship continues on and then I have to come back and tell them I lied to them? But if I say “yes” then it seems that they would want to know why I don’t have any children (which leads to a further discussion…did I have an abortion, miscarry, give the kids up for adoption or not have custody of the children?) This is quite the situation to put someone in that you have known for less than a couple hours—and even more of a dilemma when you hold a value of authenticity!

Another example might be the choice that I have made not to drink for a while; when I go on a date where we meet for drinks and I order a club soda or Diet Coke, I inevitably get the question, “why aren’t you drinking?” Part of me feels the need to urgently assure them that I’m not an alcoholic who is working on sobriety or pregnant. But then I know if I take those two things off the table I am at risk of having to explain that I am having some health related issues that I have been working on and am choosing not to drink in order to heal my body. That’s a whole other can of worms. Telling the guy that “I am just choosing not to drink for a while” never seems to sit well at just that, yet they know very little about me that would make me feel comfortable sharing my entire health history. 

In chatting about this concept with friends, I know that I am not the only one in this situation. I have heard stories and had my own experiences of men asking questions about sex, past relationships, mental health issues, trauma, family issues and so much more within the first couple dates. Often times when we get these highly inappropriate questions we are faced with this pressure to give an answer AND an explanation. So if I say “yes” or “no” to a question, I must also explain why that is, how I got to that decision and the important life events that have shaped me and I have grown from in order to make my yes my yes or my no my no. And while the person on the listening end of the conversation might appear to be interested in your response he has not yet earned the right in your life to hear that much about you. 

This is a real thing, people! 

So…what’s a girl to do?

The only answer that I can come up with is: appropriate authenticity—and this requires a bit of boldness. This first means that I take time to reflect on what I feel comfortable sharing about my life with just about anyone—whether I meet you on a date, in a community group or on a city bus. I recognize that on the first few dates these are the things that I can feel safe talking about with my potential suitor and allow myself permission to become aware if it feels like things are going into uncomfortable territory. Secondly, it means that I can give an answer to a question without an explanation; and if an explanation is requested I can share that the story behind that answer isn’t something you share with just anyone. Or, if it’s a really absurd question (like “have you ever been pregnant?”) I might just need to ignore the question altogether and change the subject. 

Yeah, sure…they might have bought you dinner or even poured their own heart and soul out to you. But that was their choice. You have a choice in the matter as well. Your story is all they have—make sure that the people you share it with have proven worthy of such an honor. 

Your Story is Not You

This week’s episode of the Bachelor has me perplexed. Since the episode ended last night, I have tossed around various ideas of what to write about today…there were certainly a few redeeming moments of the show—when Whitney discussed the importance of being kind to someone even when we didn’t like their actions; when Becca offered empathy and compassion to the Bachelor in the midst of a hard situation. Or when Carly spent time conversing with Chris and asking questions—doing an excellent job of sharing just enough of her heart, experiences and genuine fears in an effort to be known, yet not giving everything away (instead of spending her one-on-one time making out with him.) These were important moments of the night and definitely should not be overlooked. But unfortunately these moments did not stand much of a chance in being some of the pivotal themes of the night due to a few of the other girls’ handling of themselves and their emotions.

For those of you who don’t watch the show, we are introduced to Kelsey at the beginning of the season in a video vignette as she shares with us that she is a widow; her husband passed away abruptly, a mere 18 months ago, due to heart failure. America’s heart went out to this young woman as they embraced her story and her chance to find love again. Kelsey has stayed somewhat in the shadows the entire season, likely due to editing, but has started to make a bit of a name for herself in the past couple episodes which led up to her grand entrance on the episode last night. 

With the other widow being booted off the show in the previous episode, Kelsey now had the most tragic story in the house and she knew it. She began sharing it with the other girls in the house during this episode—catching the girls off guard as to the timing of sharing her story. We hear her say “I can’t go home without him knowing my story”, so without the other girls’ knowledge, Kelsey sneaks to Chris’ room to tell him of the death of her late husband. Awkward is probably a mild word to describe the exchange. As Kelsey shares her story, in depth, the editing cuts back and forth between her conversation and her individual interviews as she talks about how fabulously tragic and amazing her story is. She proclaims that there is undeniable sexual tension between she and Chris and we cut to Kelsey finishing her story and awkwardly planting a passionate kiss on Chris. And, since Chris’ coping skill in all situations awkward (or not awkward) is kissing, he obliges—though his body language indicates he would rather not be there with her. 

Cut to the end of the episode and Chris lets the other women know that Kelsey has shared her story with him—this after she condescendingly shares with the girls how confident she is that she will get a rose tonight. After realizing what is happening the girls begin their chatter and we end the episode with Kelsey on the floor having a ‘panic attack’ as we hear Ashley I.—the self-proclaimed virgin who has spent at least half of her on-air time trying to convince people that it’s not a big deal and and the other half creating drama due to her insecurities over this very same choice—break out in frustration and tears stating, “great, now someone else’s story is more tragic than my own.” 

Drama at it’s finest!

"I'm a virgin, it's not a big deal"--Ashley I.

As I contemplated what to write today, over and over I kept coming back to the overarching theme of the episode being that there were girls who were promoting and defining themselves as women and the totality of who they were based on one choice or one experience. They were viewing their existence among the other women as a game in which they were seeking to come out on top. If I have the most tragic story, I win. If there is another virgin in the house, I lose. And in getting caught up in these mere experiences or choices being what defined them as a woman, so many of these women (who I am sure are truly wonderful) began their demise—when their experience was invalidated so was their identity. 

Now, I am the first one to say that coming through a tragic situation or making a choice that is unpopular in the eyes of others takes an amount of courage. And I would never want to suggest that someone’s experience or decisions weren’t absolutely pivotal in their lives and had a lasting impact on them; we all know that there are certain moments in life that change who we are. But to suggest that one experience or one decision is what makes us who we are entirely, shortchanges our identity and leads to a fragile view of ourselves. Our experiences and choices challenge us, affirm us, devastate us and bring amazing joy into our lives. Sure, sometimes our experiences and choices even seem to beat the hell out of us—bringing us to a place of feeling wrecked for a while. But our choices and situations are just that—choices and situations. They aren’t us. They don’t define the totality of who we are or the essence of our character. Our choices and experiences are a small part of who we are; they are not all of who we are. 

One of my favorite authors, Brene Brown, made a statement that owning of our story is one of the bravest things that we can do—and I agree wholeheartedly. The ownership of our story however, is the sharing of different parts of us—the different experiences, relationships and emotions that have helped us grow, learn and go through the refining process. Loving ourselves through that process makes space for celebrating that our stories are not bigger than us, more attractive than us, more tragic than us or even what defines us.  They are, simply, stories.

My hope for us all is that we would desire for others to be attracted not to our stories but rather the person we became--the person we are--as a result of all of these different cards that life has dealt us. When someone is attracted to us for our character, rather than the character we played in a story, they are worth keeping around!