Speak Your Truth (Even if Your Voice Shakes)
Before Michelle and I got married, each of us wanted to put together a gathering with the respective important men and women in our lives to celebrate the end of our singlehood. These weren’t bachelor or bachelorette parties in the standard sense; rather, we were looking to prepare for our wedding in a sacred way. We wanted to honor our single lives by authentically acknowledging all they had provided to us.
We each set up a time to go away on the same weekend with our respective groups of close friends about a month before our wedding ceremony. I gathered with a group of a dozen male friends at the home of one of the men who had a great place right on the water. We were excited to spend the weekend there, and looked forward to hanging out, going waterskiing, and catching up.
In addition to having fun and playing around on my friend’s boat, I wanted to spend a few hours sitting in a circle with these men who were important in my life and talking through some of my thoughts and feelings related to getting married. One of the things that I’d brought with me was a folder of photos of the five other women in my life who I’d been in love with prior to meeting Michelle. I wanted to talk about each of them, as a way to honor them and acknowledge what I’d learned from them about life, love, and myself. Each of these women and my relationships with them had taught me a great deal and helped put me in the position I was in, feeling ready and excited to get married (albeit nervous as well). All five of these women had been important to me, and still were, even though our relationships had changed. I wanted to somehow include them in the experience, while at the same time release them as parts of my past.
Although I wanted to do this, I felt pretty weird about the possibility of actually talking to these men about my past loves. Even though I trusted the men in that circle very much, it felt potentially awkward and disrespectful for me to have a conversation about other women, especially right as I was preparing to marry Michelle. In addition, Michelle’s brother Steve, my soon-to-be brother-in-law, was one of the men who would be sitting in that circle. I didn’t know how that would feel for him or for me.
I brought the photos, put them in my bag, and thought that if it felt right and I had the courage to do so, I’d bring them out and talk about them. If not, they could just stay in my bag and no one would know. As we gathered and began to talk about various things, I was able to share vulnerably about some of my deepest thoughts and feelings related to getting married—my hopes, fears, dreams, worries, visions, and more. It was beautiful. I felt seen, honored, and blessed by my friends.
Given how safe I felt, I decided to reach into my bag and take out the photos. I said, “Michelle and I went to a wedding a few years ago—the friends of ours getting married had both been married previously. During the ceremony, they each acknowledged their ex-spouses and thanked them for all they had learned from them. I found it both odd and inspiring at the same time. In that vein, I brought with me photos of five different women, each of whom I was in love with at some point in my life before I met Michelle. These women were, and still are, important to me. I want to pass around each of the photos and tell you a little about them and what I learned from them.”
I could tell by the looks on the faces around the circle that most of the men were both intrigued and a little caught off guard by this conversation. And while it did feel a bit weird, especially at first, and I could feel my heart racing and my voice shaking, as I got into it, it actually felt really good and empowering. The conversation didn’t go on for all that long as I passed the photos around and talked about each of the women. However, once I finished, something amazing happened. One of my friends said, “Wow, Mike, thanks for having the courage to share these photos and your feelings about these women. I think about some of the women I’ve been in love with in the past from time to time, but I never talk about them out loud.”
We proceeded as a group to have a remarkable conversation that lasted for a few hours, in which most of the men in that circle talked about some of their past relationships, particularly the ones that had been the most heartbreaking. It was one of the most intimate and beautiful conversations I’ve ever had with a group of men in my life. There were tears, there was laughter, and there was a profound sense of freedom and liberation from the openness and truth of that conversation.
I’m so glad I was willing to have that conversation with those men that day. Not only did it serve and support me as I was preparing to get married, it turned out to have a positive impact on everyone in that circle, which was beyond my wildest expectations.
This is often what happens when we speak our truth—it enlivens us and has the possibility to inspire others. However, it’s important to remember that speaking our truth involves courage, awareness, and nonattachment.
Courage is about speaking up, even if we’re scared. Sometimes our voice will shake, our knees will knock, and our heart will pound, but if we’re willing to speak from our heart, our truth can both set us free and connect us with others in an authentic way.
Awareness is essential because we often confuse our truth with our opinion, and they are not the same thing. If you’re anything like me, you probably have lots of opinions. There’s nothing wrong with having and expressing opinions. However, many of our opinions are filled with righteous judgment and an arrogant sense that we’re right and those who don’t agree with us are wrong. Our truth runs much deeper than any of our opinions. Truth is about how we feel and what’s real for us. Truth is not about being right; it’s about expressing what we think and feel in a vulnerable way.
For example, let’s say I have a conflict with someone in my life because they sent me an e-mail that I thought was rude and disrespectful. If I were to talk to them (or even worse, e-mail them back) and say, “Your e-mail was rude and disrespectful,” while that may be my honest opinion, it wouldn’t be my deepest truth and most likely wouldn’t lead to a resolution of the conflict. If I were to say to them, “Your e-mail upset me and hurt my feelings,” that would express more of my truth. Our truth is about our emotional experience. Our opinion is about our mental assessment.
And, if we can remember to let go of our attachment, speaking our truth becomes much easier. We often get attached to how people will perceive us. The reality is that we can’t control other people’s reactions to us or to anything we do or say. If we speak our truth with love, awareness, and authenticity, it will often be received well, even if those who hear it don’t agree with what we’re saying or feel the same way. However, sometimes it will upset, confuse, offend, or hurt others—even if that wasn’t our intention. While we want to be as mindful and empathetic toward others as we can, speaking our truth is about being true to who we are and how we feel. And, as a popular saying goes, “Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”