::Ask Me How I Know::

Have you ever been lied about? And have you tried to “out truth” the lies told about you?

I have. It’s a grueling and ultimately a hopeless exercise.

The effort can leave you breathless … the kind where, with every rapid gasp of air, your aching lungs cry out for mercy.

Lies told about you can be so dark, so extreme they can make your hair and eyelashes fall out. They can cause you to get therapy five days a week for months on end, keep your therapist on speed dial. Move you to write all night, and into the morning, just trying to claw your way out of the black hole you’ve been thrown into. It’s the PTSD of the violently besmirched. And it’s real.

Ask me how I know.

You’ll learn, sometimes the hard way, that silence is the best defense. In this case, the UK’s Royal Family has the best attitude: “never complain, never explain.”

Yup, it’s difficult, walking that path. Counterintuitive. But it’s where you’ll ultimately land when the gossiping “whale of Jonah” finally upchucks you onto the shore. There you’ll lay, waterlogged and exhausted. And, really, relieved to finally give it up.

Ask me how I know.

Do not think less of yourself for how someone’s lies about you have hurt you. It’s hard, it’s confusing, and it’s heartbreaking … especially because there’s never any good reason for it, no purpose other than to hurt and/or destroy you.

But here’s the thing: peace will abide. There’s a saying, “What other people think of you is none of your business.” Butbutbut … what do we do when “What other people say” about us is … so very, very wrong?

The answer, as hard as it is to grab onto, is: be more you. Lean in to who you are. Your authenticity is who God put here in you; it is your key to everything that is good, and true.

It’s tricky at first, and it takes some practice. But keep at it long enough, dedicate yourself to it deeply enough, and you will be present as “fully, wholly you.”

Once the ‘real’ version of you is strong, the chatter of untruths will no longer matter. Lord, yes, it takes time. But start. Start now, if you can. Because ninety days from now you’ll be ninety days older, whether you’ve been more you or not.

Give it a chance to move you toward the good stuff. Because it will, I promise.

Then you’ll discover that this is the good stuff that is born of the bad. And it is so good that, in a funny way, you’ll give thanks for all of it.

Ask me how I know.