Many people pack their pain in neat little boxes, store them away in the attics of their mind. They go about their day-to-day life with those things being out of sight and out of mind. The reality is they are yet there. No amount of suppressing or pressing them out of your mind will make them go away, Some folks’ mental attic is full to the brim. It’s reminiscent of a public storage container. In a lot of cases chalked full of memories. Often times those memories are unpleasant. Many people hold tight to the baggage of the past, never finding the time or the courage to unpack their trauma. In many cases, the memories are too painful to revisit.

In talking to folks in my circle or sphere of influence, I’ve found that many of them have lost their identity. They don’t know who they are separate from their trauma. It’s has become their new normal. They do not know how to live without the baggage from those events. For many, those events are what they pull out of their arsenal in conversations with others. Some use those events to gain sympathy from others. Others use the events to validate their anger, bitterness and dysfunction. At that point the pain becomes a crutch that allows those persons to limp through life.

At the time of writing this chapter, I am currently in the hospital recovering from a broken ankle. I’m presently going through rehab so I can return to a place of normalcy where I able to eventually put pressure on said ankle so I can walk again. In the meantime, I am unable to live my life fully as I choose. I don’t have the freedom to skip, hop, walk, run or dance. I’m wounded and in pain. Wounded and in pain, sound familiar? Both of our abilities to live our best life has been stymied by our wounds and our pain. We appear to be happy, but the underlying truth is we are living with the pain and pretending to be okay.

Unpacking trauma has been something I’ve been avoiding for a long time. Yes, I wrote my story in Damaged Goods: Damaged But Valuable, but God is requiring me to dig deeper and to tell more of my story. I was intentional in what I told before. I shared some very hurtful and painful truths. Now I’m being required to reach in that trauma box once again to unpack more of my life. I’m not sure if I can do it. Damaged Goods wore me completely out. There was so much darkness in my life while writing that book. Many days found me suicidal, depressed and unwilling to face the day. I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to revisit that place. Unfortunately, I must.

As someone who used to lie profusely, there were a whole lot of truths buried underneath. You see, a lie is told to keep someone ignorant of the truth. The truth could be a number of things. I’ve learned that secrets and taboos were a big part of my hidden truths.

The “no, I’m not being touched by anyone” lie covered up the fact my uncle, cousin and step-brother were touching me inappropriately. The “I’m okay” lie covered up the truth that I was contemplating suicide and had already attempted a few times.

I bet you if you dig really deep, you’ll find truths in the shadows of the lies you’ve told. No matter how our stories differ from or mirror each other, there is some form of trauma there that takes us back, if only momentarily, to a place where we spouted out lies to bury our truth.

The Shift to Radical Honesty

Choosing to move away from those shadows is a process of Radical Honesty. It isn’t just about telling the truth; it’s about refusing to hide. But I’ve learned that even when you want to be honest, your body sometimes remembers the old danger.

Even now, after I speak my truth, I feel a “danger sensation” in the pit of my stomach. My survival brain expects the punishment that used to come with being seen. I often feel the urge to “take it back,” to slide the mask back on and retreat.

But I’ve reached a point where I finally prefer the discomfort of the truth over the “safety” of the lie. The lie is a prison you have to maintain; the truth is a release.

Advice for the Person Still Hiding

If you are currently living underneath your own lies, know that you aren’t a “bad person”—you are a survivor. When you are ready to start unearthing your truth, remember:

• Start with yourself: You don’t have to tell the world yet. Radical honesty starts by admitting the truth to yourself in the mirror.

• Expect the “Stomach Knot”: Your body will panic when you speak. Breathe through it. This is just your old armor reacting to being set down.

• Trust is earned: You don’t owe your entire story to everyone. Honest boundaries allow you to be truthful (“I’m struggling”) without sharing every detail until you feel safe.

• Forgive the armor: Don’t beat yourself up for the lies you told to stay alive. They got you this far.

The Art of Letting Go

Ultimately, I’ve realized that honesty is an act of release.

Throughout our lives, we will always run across an occasion to let go of something. Be it goals, plans, old shoes or clothes, relationships etcetera, letting go is never easy. The reasons for the disconnect run the gamut, but anguish of letting go is prevalent across the board.

Holding on can be our way of holding tight to an important moment in life or as a way of reminding ourselves of the past. For me, the lies were how I held onto a version of myself that felt “protected.” But by finally letting them go, I am making room for a life lived in the light.

We don’t have to hide anymore.