I Said Yes

When people told me a year ago that I would one day stand again before groups of people as a speaker, I tried to hide the sadness in my eyes and the pain in my heart as I softly said, "That will never happen. I'm finished speaking ... that part of my life is over." What I didn't say to those folks was, "And that's as it should be ... it's my fault, and I'm getting what I deserve." You see, every single event I had booked through 2015 cancelled when I told the truth about who I am ... every single event ... and more than a few of the people who called or emailed to inform me they were cancelling didn't hesitate to tell me it was my fault and that I was getting what I deserved. What they didn't understand was that I didn't need them to tell me those things ... every single beat of my heart and every single pulse of my soul told me how unworthy I was. 

This evening, I spoke for a group of about 100 people, and the minute I walked into the room, that feeling of unworthiness swept over me in a big way. I had been nervous all day about speaking tonight, partly because I knew that some of the folks who would be attending are well-respected professionals. If you've been reading along with me for a while, you know how I freak out about wearing the appropriate attire for special events ... yep, when I walked into that room and saw all the people in their fancy business duds, I thought for sure I was going to throw up right in front of all of them. It didn't matter that I received a ton of compliments at work today about how sharp I looked ... I instantly felt like a fish out of water. And just like a fish out of water, I felt myself gulping for air as I wondered if it's possible to throw up as you faint. Thankfully, the person who had asked me to speak saw my obvious distress, made her way to me with a bottle of water, shoved me into a chair and said, "You need to calm down. You're okay ... just breathe and drink some water. You're going to do great ... breathe in ... breathe out ... take a drink. You can do this."

It wasn't until I stood looking into the eyes of the people tonight and began to speak that my nervousness started easing off. It was when I looked into their eyes that I knew we were the same. It was when I looked into their eyes that I knew why I was there. For those of you who are speakers, you know that there is often one person in a group who catches your attention ... one person who seems to be carrying a heavier burden than the others. Tonight that person was a man who looked to be around 50 ... a man who patiently waited at the end of the line of people who came to talk to me after the meeting was over. He asked if he could hug me, and as he did, he broke down and began to cry. He told me his name and said he is a counselor at a high school. He sobbed as he told me about students who are being bullied at school ... about a student who was bullied several years ago and ended up committing suicide ... about students who live in constant fear ... about students whose parents have rejected them. He asked me if I would be willing to speak to the students and teachers at his school.

Most of the time when I'm asked to speak now, I say I need time to think about it. And I turn down more requests than I accept. I didn't hesitate for even a moment as I said yes to the man this evening ... I said yes to him immediately. I have a friend who reminds me almost every day that not one step of my journey over the last year and a half has been random in any way. I think she's right. I think the high school counselor is why I was invited to speak tonight, and I think perhaps he was there tonight because there's someone at his school I need to meet.

I said yes, friends ... I said yes.