Owning Our Stories

The author Anne Lamott wrote, "You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should've behaved better."

Telling our stories is one of the ways we heal and lead more authentic lives. At times I have hesitated to tell some of my story because I was afraid. I had not owned all the parts of it yet.

One painful part was that I was bullied in high school. Severely bullied. In secret and by just a few. The humiliation of that--coupled with my desire to keep up appearances--trapped me in silent shame for many years.

While I was popular and well-liked, there were a few guys who taunted me, mocked me, calling me 'fag' or 'gay' or anything that was not as tough as they were. They talked down to me and made me feel very, very small.

I was small framed with a sensitive heart. I was also smart. But I could not keep up with the jocks. These few guys mocked my stature and regularly reminded me how inadequate I was. I used to dread walking in the restroom or locker room and finding them there. I wanted to disappear.

The bullies used to mockingly sing-song my name "Joooooonathaaaaan" in a mousey voice. For a while I even became ashamed of my name. I had always been proud of my namesake: the biblical friends Jonathan and David. I thought that was cool and connected me to something grand in the past. But the taunts I endured made me feel foolish. I preferred Jon for a while because I thought it might not sound as stupid, or worse yet, as gay.

Oh, I would put on a strong face. But it damaged my spirit. I hardened my heart in different ways to survive. I tried to counteract their words but was not strong enough on my own. I internalized their lies and shame.

You see, insults and abuse leach into the soil of our souls even when we think we are fine managing on our own. If not shared with someone safe, toxic words continue to poison the psyche long after they are spoken, resulting in deep shame.

For me, therapy, forgiveness, and faith were key to my recovery. My hurt and resentments were only hurting me.

Years later, I ran into one of these guys at the mall. He opened up about his life. He was miserable, in an unhappy marriage, and unfulfilled professionally. I knew in my heart it was time to let go. I wished him well and realized the sting of pain was gone.

Forgiveness takes time. Releasing shame takes time. Therapy helps a lot. Cooperating with the process of life is important as well. Things somehow come full circle, and how we respond makes all the difference for our future.

I know that my story is not unique. But it is uniquely mine.

This Pride Month I recommit myself to stand up for those who are bullied, victimized, mistreated, or abused--not just for their orientation or identity, but also for the color of their skin, country of origin, creed of faith, or condition of mind.

This Pride Month I am grateful to work with organizations and individuals that value inclusion and give me a place at the table where I am seen, heard, and unashamed. I am grateful that I can be fully myself without fear of reprisal or discrimination. I am honored to be a part of the recovery journey for the clients I serve.

This Pride Month I am grateful for the LGTBQ+ allies who give voice to those who feel theirs does not count. Thank you for standing in solidarity and speaking out.

For the LGTBQ+ community, share your story with the people who have earned the right to hear it. Grow in owning the parts of your story that are painful. Seek help and therapy when needed. You are seen, heard, loved, and accepted just as you are.

Happy Pride!