I lied to hide my feelings, my talent, my anger, my vulnerability, my past, my family, my belief in God, my fear, myself, and my humanity.  I was so used to lying I thought I was telling the truth.  I didn’t know in my mind I was lying, but I knew in my heart.  Deep down I felt it. It touched me in rare, open moments like while I was showering.  A wave of sadness would wash over me for no apparent reason.  It took all of my energy not to cry.  I would tell myself there was no reason to cry and rush myself out of the shower, the moment, and most of all…the feeling.

I felt it when my eyes would flutter open in the afternoon after a whole night of drinking, dancing, and debauchery {read: sex without love or relationship}.  I was so numb and hungover; and yet, the numbness would always bump up against something within me that told me I was hiding.  That this wasn’t the way.  I would shut down as soon as possible with another lie.  It probably went something like, “I’m fine.”

In my very first private coaching session, I knew I couldn’t lie anymore.  And it wasn’t because I didn’t want to.  It was because I knew she could see right through them.  She could see me.  The real me.  The thing is…she liked me.  She saw me and like me.  She wanted to support me through the ugly.  No one else had ever showed up for me like that.

So I told the part of me that wanted to run away and never look back that that was it.  We’re doing this thing called coaching and we’re going to stop lying.  No more running.  It’s time to face up.  Oh and boy did we ever!

We stripped away those lies piece by piece, bit by bit, until I arrived at myself.  And wow! I’d never known myself like this before.  You mean, I wasn’t a terrible monster? Nope!  I found that I was a lovable person with human fears, flaws, and foibles.  And it was in the very things I tried to hid that I found the beauty in my life, my experience, and myself.

I am okay. I am me. I am beautiful. And I am human.  I’ve only ever wanted…okay, I can’t think of one or even a few words to describe this longing, but I do know that by embracing all of me – even the liar – no, wait especially the liar – I have become just that: {no, not a bigger liar!} I’ve become:

ME.

Simply.

Beautifully.

Me.

Foibles and all.