integrity Archives - RonnaDetrick.com

It’s a relief to tell the truth.

May 11, 2023 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

“It’s a relief to speak the truth. I don’t have to pretend.” ~ Karen Maezen Miller

My thoughts about truth-telling are supported by two bookends. One the one side is my deep and inviolate belief that you already know your truth. It’s that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within that cannot and will not be silenced; it never leaves you. On the other side is the acknowledgement that your truth-telling often comes with risk, cost, and consequence – which is the very reason you, me, most women, often forego it, tone it down, keep ourselves safe, all of the above.

What’s missing though, is what Karen Maezen Miller (above) offers in naming truth-telling as relief.

Without rest as promised-reward, truth-telling often remains too daunting and not worth either the effort or the exhaustion. Pretending then, becomes our default.

About pretending.
We are conditioned to pretend from a very early age. We learn how to be what others expect, what others need, what others demand. And confusingly, our ability to do and be exactly this, is what earns us affirmation, praise, and belonging. (No wonder we’re exhausted.)

“In the fullness of time, we become dizzy from swirling; our lives ache from being twisted out of shape; and our spirits become depleted from servicing others with our energy and attention.” ~ Patricia Lynn Reilly, A Deeper Wisdom: The 12 Steps from a Woman’s Perspective

To tell the truth, to NOT pretend, feels far more like labor than rest, far more like risk than reward because pretending is what we’re used to, what we know best, what we become best at. But to keep pretending, even though potentially “easier” (deceivingly so), chips away at our true self, our wholeness, our groundedness, our very experience of who we are as a woman in this world.

In thinking a lot about this in the past few days, I decided to compile a cursory inventory of my own pretending:

I learned early that being smart, witty, and a “thinker” would get me the most attention from my dad. I wasn’t pretending to be smart, witty, and a thinker but I DID know, somewhere within, that it was required to feel loved. Being who he wanted and needed me to be allowed me to feel seen, heard, and valued.
As a teenager and through my 20s, I pretended in ways designed to summon male approval. It didn’t work a lot of the time, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t committed to trying. If I pretended to be what they wanted, surely I would be wanted.
During five years of infertility, I pretended to trust in God’s will by (trying to) believe in some higher plan for my life. The truth—what I really felt—was too dark, too hopeless, too devoid of the faith I had learned to display, no matter what.
During way too much of my marriage, I pretended that I was OK with what was happening around and within me. The truth would be too disruptive, misunderstood, the beginning of the end. Pretending felt like self-preservation, relationship-preservation.
In a later relationship, post-divorce, I pretended to be fine with his distance, his cutting sarcasm, his utter disappearance emotionally. Pretending meant I didn’t have to be alone.
In more than one corporate position, I pretended that feeling like I was the crazy one was normal; that it was “just the way things are” as a woman in leadership. Pretending meant that I could stay, that I had a seat at the table, that I belonged.

Now I know better.

The truth is that I am worthy of being seen, heard, and valued because of who I am – not because of what I do or how I act, even how smart I might sound.
The truth is that I am worthy of being wanted, period.
The truth is that the heartache of infertility was hardly a divestiture of my faith, but a fierce (and faithful) clinging to any faith at all.
The truth is that my marriage was pretend as long as I was pretending; what I was working so hard to preserve was not honest or real.
The truth is that being in relationship with someone who couldn’t stay, couldn’t express emotion, and wouldn’t honor me is not worth being in at all.
The truth is that I am not the crazy one; my seat at the table is deserved – even if not given or allowed.

The truth is that typing every one of the sentences above IS a relief, even now. Though some were a long time in coming, each were a relief then, as well.

“It is a relief to speak the truth. I don’t have to pretend.”

Where have you felt the exhaustion of being someone other than yourself? What stories come to mind? What “inventory of pretending” might you compile? What blessed relief might you know if you did speak the truth, your truth?

These are not easy questions. Answering them with intentional choice and bold action IS risky, costly, and full of consequence. But so is pretending.

You deserve to be yourself. You deserve to experience every moment of every day fully and completely yourself no matter what. You deserve to speak your truth. You deserve to never pretend at all. You deserve to know that who you are is beautiful, worthy, and wise no matter what. And that IS a relief.

The truth is almost always personal

Nov 25, 2022 | Sovereignty, Women's Wisdom, Writing

I recently read Handling the Truth: On the Writing of Memoir, by Beth Kephart. On the back cover are these words:

It is almost always personal – and consequential – to tell the truth.

And . . . right alongside the risk of truth-telling, is the possibility, the benefit, and our hope:

“Every word a woman writes changes the story of the world, revises the official version.” ~ Carolyn See

I’m back and forth between these two bolded statements because of my own writing of late: the final edits of my manuscript. It’s not memoir, but still, personal – and consequential; not memoir, but certainly compelled by my dogged desire to “change the story of the world.” (Or at least the way we have been telling the stories . . . )

On the one hand, I am reminded that it’s not truth OR consequences (a reference to a very old TV game show – if you are too young to remember); it’s truth AND consequences. On the other hand, I am compelled by just how important it is that I write, that I speak, that I trust the ways in which my words, my truth, do change the story . . . my own and others’.

Writing and me aside, the same is true for you. All women sit in the tension these two statements elucidate.

We are caught between the risk of our truth and its impact, its cost and its significance, our fear and our yearning.

*sigh*

*****

Another recent read has been The Book of Essie. I stumbled across it while looking for an epigraph quote — a couple relevant keywords in Google, plus “quotes” and this is what showed up:

“It’s men who trust they will suffer no consequences for their actions, while women suffer no matter what they do.” ~ Meghan Weir

No surprise: I immediately went to Amazon for details, then my online library app for the audio book. I won’t spoil it for you, but again – no surprise – it deals with exactly what I’m naming here: Women reside in the impossible tension between telling the truth and changing the(ir) world.

It shouldn’t be impossible.

As I was lost in the pages of Essie’s story, I thought back on my own — the places where I knew my truth, but wouldn’t take the risk and couldn’t bear the consequences (or so I thought). I thought of other times in which I spoke my truth, how everything changed, how it was impossible to go back, how most of the time I wouldn’t have gone back even if I could, and how painful it was to move forward. And I thought about how this is the reality for most every woman. Past and present. Not just once, but over and over again.

If we weren’t so familiar with it, we would feel crazy (and often do)! It’s become par for the course, second nature, what we know how to do extremely well.

Weigh the costs
Consider the outcomes
Put ourselves second . . . or last
Compromise
Comply
Long for change
Wonder if it’s even possible
Speak up
Take it back
Apologize
Wish we were stronger
Get stronger
Step forward
Risk everything
Survive

I’d be elated if we could jump directly from “weigh the costs” to “step forward,” “risk everything,” and not only “survive,” but thrive.

There’s no simple “answer” to this conundrum, but I do have some thoughts.

We alleviate the consequences of our truth (or at least our fear of such) by telling it, by building our capacity to do it even more, by trusting ourselves.

The way in which this messy and excruciating world will change is by women being unswervingly committed to their truth – and its out-loud expression.

Our courage to tell our truth and change the world is exponentially increased when we are surrounded and supported by stories of other women who have done the same – whether Essie, Eve, or countless others.

I had “maybe” at the start of each of the three sentences above. A dilution of my own truth. A fear of being misunderstood or too bold or too outspoken. And a way in which the change I long for on my behalf, yours, and the world’s, is slower to occur, harder to imagine, and that much further away. ~~I guess~~ it feels important to acknowledge that even though I am the one writing all of this, I am often stuck in the same bind – over and over – in the most insipid of ways.

And then there’s this:

I know telling your truth is hard. I know it is scary. I know there are consequences. And I’m sorry.

I also know that your truth, the know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within, is worthy of being heard, that your story is, that you are. Written. Spoken. Allowed. Celebrated. Lived. And when that happens — as it should and as it must — it’s definitely world-changing, story-changing, life-changing . . . changing everything. As you deserve.

As I’ve written this today, I’ve wondered how it will land for you — whether you will feel desire or tension, a deep knowing or a shoulder shrug; if you will be proud of where you’ve boldly and bravely told your truth or lost in your memories of truth-avoided.

~~I guess~~ what I’m trying to say is that I long for you to trust your truth and your power to change the story of the world . . . of your world. If I could wave a magic wand or say a prayer or cast a spell or maybe all three in one, this IS what I’d wish, hands down, every. single. time.

May it be so.

Telling Your Truth (and being a volcano)

Apr 1, 2022 | Women's Voice & Power

I find it fascinating (and frustrating) that as children we are taught lying is definitely not OK. Ironically, as young girls-then women, we are taught to not tell our truth — at least not fully. Not if it’s something others don’t want to hear, or if it even remotely upsets someone else’s world. So apparently we shouldn’t lie but we also shouldn’t tell the truth. This tangle is what I’m diving into today; inspired, in large part, by my all-time favorite quote:

What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.
~ Muriel Rukeyser

And this one:

We are volcanoes. When we women offer our experience as our truth, as human truth, all the maps change. There are new mountains. That’s what I want — to hear you erupting.
~ Ursula K. LeGuin

Why telling your truth often feels like a destructive volcano.

When I first heard the Muriel Rukeyser quote above (What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.) I said, “Exactly! That’s why I can’t do it!” I was certain that were I to name what I was experiencing, how I was feeling, what I actually thought, that everything would fall apart around me.

I’m hardly alone in this (though I felt like I was at the time). As women, we have been culturally conditioned to

“be seen and not heard,”
keep our opinions to ourselves,
not upset the apple cart ever,
distrust our own voice,
make sure that everyone else’s comfort supersedes our own; and if all this weren’t enough,
believe we’re probably making a big deal out of nothing.

In her must-read book, Cassandra Speaks, Elizabeth Lesser says this:

…we know the truth of our own experiences, yet we are told we are lying or overreacting; we can see consequences on the horizon, but it’s still “common knowledge” that women’s emotions cloud their vision, that we tend toward hysteria — even madness — and therefore are not to be believed.

See? It’s hard to tell the truth because we’re convinced (and have been taught to believe) that we will, indeed, split the world open. Best to keep it in, hold it back, play it safe. I did this for a very long time — especially in the context of my marriage, but in an infinite number of other places and ways, as well, believe me.

I eventually realized that everything needed to fall apart! Splitting my world open was the only thing that would allow me to breathe, live with any level of personal integrity, and ever hope to grow. But seeing, naming, and knowing this hardly made it any easier!

The fact that it’s hard to trust, tell, and live your truth isn’t your fault. You’re not to blame. You’re not weak. It’s not a reflection of some lack of fortitude or courage or strength. You may feel this way, but here’s what is actually true: you’ve been enculturated to feel that way! It’s what the world (patriarchy, specifically) WANTS you to believe so that you don’t make waves or split worlds open or be a volcano; so that you keep your truth to yourself.

Our work as women is to name this reality and then undo it; to see the ways in which we are silenced NOT as character flaws but as learned behaviors in a world that wants us quiet, compliant, and endlessly serving others’ needs before and instead of our own.

When you tell and live your truth you are disrupting the status quo. That IS the world splitting open, the maps changing, the new mountains being made, the volcanoes erupting. Yes, please!!!

It is understandable, even to be expected — your fear of what might happen when/if you tell your truth. Still and always, it deserves to be spoken and lived — no matter what, all the time, endlessly, and in every single context and conversation possible. You cannot convince me otherwise.

You also cannot convince me that there is some magic formula or “easy” 3-step plan through which you can tell yourself and others the truth and come out of it without some kind of unearthing or overturning along the way. In fact, I’d go so far as to say this:

Knowing/anticipating the “havoc” that will potentially result when you DO tell your truth is all the data you need to know this is EXACTLY what is required for you to be fully yourself and fully sovereign.

What you fear serves you. It’s a powerful form of discernment. It’s the evidence that you can trust yourself and your truth enough to speak and live it.

No, no magic formula or 3-step plan, but 3 practical-practices to help you in a process that will, undoubtedly, last a lifetime . . .

1) Inventory the lies.

List out all the messages you’ve internalized; the ones that reinforce the belief you’re better off keeping your thoughts (and your truth) to yourself — from childhood, adulthood, education, religion, social media, TV, movies, magazines, novels, bosses, boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses, significant others, etc. Sayings. Cliches. Repeated phrases. Lessons-learned. Even the voices in your head.
Take a red pen, fat black Sharpie, or Shift+Command+X (on a Mac) and cross out every one that is NOT actually true, relevant, helpful, supportive, or remotely applicable now that you are older, wiser, and the amazing-and-empowered woman that you are!
Journal: What shows up for you when you walk through this exercise — elation, resistance, frustration, doubt? What do you feel when you realize just how much of not telling the truth has come from the assertions and demands of others and your culture? What if your experiences of keeping your truth to yourself aren’t your fault? How then might you respond?

2) Tell yourself ONE truth.

What is the truth that’s sitting closest to the surface for you right now? You know the one. You know it needs to be acted on, spoken, lived. Yep, that one.
Write it out. Type it out. Give yourself space, time, and permission to say EXACTLY what you already know. You don’t have to act on it (yet). Just write and write and write. Let yourself feel what it’s like to express this truth in unedited and uncensored ways. No keeping it in, holding it back, or playing it safe.
Telling the truth (*only* to yourself) is not insignificant or inconsequential. It’s everything.

3) Take the tiniest steps.

Often what keeps us from acting on our truth is the very long and legitimate list of risks, costs, and consequences we’re certain will ensue. You might be right. And if you are, as I stated above, that’s reliable data and discernment. But for now, all I’m advocating is one small, almost invisible act that aligns your internal and external truths; that closes the gap.
Give an opinion. State a definitive “yes” or “no.” Answer a question without side-stepping the voice in your head. Just one truth. Spoken out loud. Acted on. Every day. That’s it. (And then watch what happens over time. It’s like compounding interest, I promise!)

An encouraging thought:

After I got past my initial reaction to the Rukeyser quote about the world splitting open, I realized that she meant it as an invitation and a powerful expression of hope. LeGuin offered the same when talking about volcanoes. Here she offers even more truth:

One voice speaking truth is a greater force than fleets and armies.

Mmmmm. That’s the force you hold within and wield; the strength and impact that is yours. Yep, it is difficult. We’re not all that crazy about incurring the disruption. But I am convinced that when we do tell and live our truth, the world DOES change — conversation by conversation, behavior by behavior, action by action. And, as Gandalf said in The Lord of the Rings, “That is an encouraging thought.”

*****

Every Monday I write you a letter (and send it via email). It’s filled with truth-telling, to be sure — and encouragement and story; it’s from my heart to yours. I’d be honored if you’d subscribe. Learn more.

Does it feel costly to be yourself?

Oct 15, 2021 | Hope & Encouragement, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

Let’s be honest: it does feel costly to be ourselves. Maybe not all of the time, but certainly in some relationships, some conversations, some contexts?

Believe me: I completely get it! Here’s a peek inside the (sometimes) craziness of my brain:

I know I need to _______.
But if I do, then _______ is going to get mad (or hurt or offended or silent) which will then lead to an argument which will then lead to them shutting down (or blowing up or walking away or being passive aggressive) which will then lead to me having to mend fences or else deal with the fallout.
The fallout will be awful. _______ will happen and then _______ will happen and if that’s not enough, then _______ will most definitely happen!
Once those things occur, that will mean that I have to _______ which will then impact _______ and ________, and _______!
It’s too much. It’s too risky. I can’t handle all of this!
Better to NOT be fully myself.
Whew! ‘Glad I thought that through!

My brain aside, I’m guessing yours processes somewhat similarly, especially when you are on the verge of stepping more fully into who you are, telling your truth, choosing alignment and authenticity; defying compromise or compliance or playing small or holding back or hiding or putting others’ emotions above your own or, or, or…

Here’s what is true:

More times than not, the choices we make to be fully ourselves come with a whole freight train of risk, cost, and consequence.

It’s no wonder we are a bit tentative!

So, what is a wise, brilliant, amazing, and strong woman (you!!!) to do?

I wish I had an easy answer. There isn’t one. (Parenthetically, let me say that you should be highly suspect of anyone who does!) But here are 4 uneasy answers that are worth considering:

Don’t ignore or downplay the risks, the costs, and the consequences. And please don’t try to *just* have the “right” mindset and overcome (or repress) them.
Give yourself permission to name all that you’re afraid of. Listen to the inner chatter, the imposter, Resistance itself. Unedited. Unrestrained.
Listen to the wisdom within, to your wisdom. Even the fears themselves offer profound insight that is deep and true and trustworthy. You are wise.
Let the wisdom that is yours — including the awareness of risks, the inner chatter, and the stunningly powerful insights — help you remember just how strong and amazing you are.

It feels costly to be fully yourself because it is!

Naming this is what reveals just how valuable and important you-being-you actually is.

(And, in case you were wondering, you’re worth any cost and every price!)

May it be so.

6 Ways to Access Your Inner Wisdom

Jun 7, 2021 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

It’s taken me a lifetime to learn that I can trust myself and my own knowing instead of needing to rely on external sources of wisdom: parents, authority figures, teachers, professors, religious leaders, experts, even books.

I spent decades convinced that I was missing some crucial piece of information, that there was a magic pill or silver bullet or golden key that, if I could but find, would make sense of everything. Surely life couldn’t be this hard. Surely there were answers just waiting for the right questions to be asked (of the right people). Surely I should do better, be better, and rise above every struggle and challenge.

I believed that the wisdom I so desperately needed was “out there”; even more, that anything within me was suspect, if not untrustworthy and dangerous.

What I’ve (slowly) earned is that everything I was looking for was already and always mine. I have every bit of the wisdom I need. I am trustworthy. And “dangerous” might be the very best thing.

Despite how long it’s taken me – and the ways in which I still have miles to go – I have picked up a few things along the way. Maybe, just maybe I can speed up even a few of my lessons-learned for you.

Here are 6 (of so many) ways to access your inner wisdom:

1. Give yourself permission to spill everything. Whether on a piece of paper, a new document on your laptop, and/or in sacred space with a therapist, Spiritual Director, or coach. Unedited. Uncensored. Unrestrained. We spend so much time with the opposite: editing, censoring, holding back. Listen to all the chatter in your brain. Let your fear speak or shout. And let it all out in a contained and trusted way. When you let yourself say everything, you’ll hear what’s most true, what rises above the din, what your soul longs to sing out, what your heart knows.

2. Practice articulating one true thing every day. Just one. That’s all. Speak out loud (to a person) one thing that is honest and completely consistent with what you hear and know within. Then feel what that feels like – for you! When you begin to speak your wisdom (in fits and starts, even with baby steps), more of your wisdom will rise up and long to be expressed. I promise.

3. Let others’ responses and reactions become your divining rod, your GPS, the exact data you need to know you’re on the right track. Exactly!

4. Pay attention to anything that has you leaning toward staying in line, following the rules, not upsetting any apple carts. Then ask yourself: What do I really think about this? The answer? Yep. Your inner wisdom – speaking up.

5. Notice where are you clear that things are not OK as-is. In a relationship. At work. Something you witness online. In the larger culture. All of these and then some. That discontent you sense, that frustration, that grief? Mmmmm. That IS your wisdom. It’s revolutionary and radical and all about transformation. Because it’s just that wise!

6. Look back. When was a time in which you DID hear and trust your inner wisdom? What happened? What was the impact? How does that impact still reverberate through time? See how powerful you are? You and your wisdom can be trusted. More of that please!

You are the best and most reliable source of wisdom ever. Look within. Look within. Look within. You’ll find every bit of the insight and direction and guidance you need, desire, and deserve. ‘Promise.

And just in case you’re wondering, yes: there are external sources of wisdom that are of value. Of course! But not when they conflict with that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within. Not when they cause you to second-guess or question yourself. Not when they even hint that you don’t know. Not when following them means you quiet down or shrink back or play small or compromise or comply or swallow your truth or, or, or…

Did I mention? You are the best and most reliable source of wisdom ever. Look within. Look within. Look within.

*****

Which of these feels the most scary or risky for you? That one? It’s the place to start. It’s where your wisdom is already bursting at the seams and longing to pour forth. Start small. Build the muscle. And watch what happens, over time, when your wisdom is not only accessed, but trusted and expressed.

Hit “reply” or send me a DM and let me know what resonates for you, where you feel the most resistance, or what situation or circumstance or relationship you already know is in dire need of the wisdom that is uniquely yours. I’d love to hear. Really!

« Older Entries