What an amazing honor.
I was asked to present on honesty. I was asked to talk about telling one's truth even when it's hard, especially when it's hard. And I did. I talked about telling the truth, my truth.
I talked about how I made so many mistakes when I was a new leader that years later, I called my former team to apologize.
I talked about my sister who is suffering and ill and refuses to speak to me and how that weighs on my heart every day. I talked about the irony and sadness of having one's profession devoted to helping people communicate and yet not being able to get the people you love the most to talk to you.
I shared the pain and the guilt and the gut-wrenching sadness I felt when I returned from maternity leave after our son was born. Every morning after dropping him off at daycare, I would cry. I would sit in my car and cry because I knew that just inside those daycare walls, Myles was crying too. We were crying because what we both wanted more than anything was to be together.
As the days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, the crying got softer until it stopped altogether. But the pain and the guilt and the gut-wrenching sadness? They didn't have the decency to leave.
So there I was on stage, sharing truth after truth after truth. And then my time was up. I walked off the stage feeling a mixture of pride and absolute confusion - had I really gone off script that much and shared that much about my life?! Who am I right now?!
What an amazing failure
And then just like that, the pride went away. A young woman approached me in the hall after my presentation. I was expecting a conversation to ensue about work/life balance or leadership or career advice. Instead she asked a simple question. She asked a simple question and I lied.
"What's your favorite book?"
She asked, "What's your favorite book?" That's all. I've been asked this question before and had never answered honestly. I've answered with my second favorite, or third favorite, or whatever book I thought would make me seem smart or funny or both.
As a self-proclaimed nerd, I have read hundreds, if not thousands of books in my lifetime. But there is one that has stood out for me from all the rest. And yet that is never the book I give credit to being my favorite. Until now.
My favorite book? Bridges of Madison County. There. I did it. I spoke my truth in only four words. Brides. Of. Madison. County. I frickin' love that book. I love the love story - the love story that isn't a "and they lived happily ever after" kind of love story but the kind of love story that once I read it, it took up permanent residence in my soul. I must have read it a dozen times now and each time, I see it differently, and feel it differently.
But I didn't say any of those things and I wish that I had. And here's why. It's not about the book. It's about hiding our truth for fear that people will judge us, instead of loving us just the way we are.
So to the young woman in the hallway, I'm sorry. You asked a question and you deserved an honest answer. We all do.