Love Myself and Cut the Cord

I woke up in no frame of mind to actually share the stories. I finished sharing the stories and felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. There's a hidden cost to doing this. I felt like running out of the room at least a half a dozen times. The intensity of it is what a flashback feels like, like I'm neck deep in the danger zone, and telling the truth about what it's like to live with a disability and complex trauma is a bad idea. At #NELA2025, I did it anyway. 

My opening quote, “I don't need to be the same as everyone else. I just need to motherfuckin’ love myself” (Love Myself, Olivia O'Brien). And like that, we were off to the races. I talked about a lot of things. I gave more air time to the end of my ministry career than I have in the last ten years. That was weird. I might have flown a little close to the flame during this talk. If it meant something to the people that were there, then it was probably worth it. But, I'm writing this the day after the talk and I feel like I've been through a blender. 

I spent three days at a conference and the talk was near the end. I did over 22,000 steps at the conference. That's a lot for me. I announced the winner of an annual competition at the end of day two and jumped off the stage because there was no railing on the steps and it felt safer than walking down. I pushed my body beyond its capacity, something I do almost every day. I tapped out all of my social spoons, especially for professional, generally surface level conversation. I'm really grateful to the three people that I spent time with in the evening hours talking about real s***. I won't name them in case they don't want to be named, but if you're reading this, you got me through the conference. And you have my gratitude. 

When I'm at an event like that, and it's go, go, go, all day, how do I manage? I do what I need to do for myself invisibly without saying a lot about it. I highlighted some of it in the talk because it was at the end of the conference and I knew it. I duck out of sessions, I attend sessions in the same spaces so that I know I'm comfortable with the space, I have micro conversations with people that I enjoy, I amp up my humor, I hide in plain sight. And, when the professional part of the day winds down, but you're still networking and socializing, walking around with a bourbon in my hand is a nice mask. I'm unsteady on my feet sober so people will assume what they want, but I don't do anything out of control. I do what's needed to quiet the noise on the inside and the outside. I want to socialize, but I don't want to socialize with everyone, I only want to socialize with the people that are willing to have real and deep conversations. I don't care about the who's or what's of work gossip. That's meaningless to me, but I can't avoid all of it at an event like that without just completely disappearing. So I put on the mask and do what I need to do. 

My favorite part of night one, meeting people at the pub crawl. My favorite part of night two, closing the night with six librarians I didn't know and making one new friend. My favorite part of night three, hanging out with my co-presenter, laughing about life, and not talking about work. 

As far as the conference itself, there were a lot of interesting sessions, put on by talented and skilled people. And I'm really grateful for the kind of work I do. So the masks that I have to put on, I would have to do in any line of work. As I mentioned in another recent post, it's very difficult for me to feel safe and supported professionally, and feel seen at the same time. I hope I did that in my talk. I hope I was seen, safe, and supported. But the way I feel today as I write this, I want more for next time. I don't know what exactly, but the feeling I'm left with today tells me that next time needs to be different. 

I don't want to discount anything that was meaningful for the people that were in attendance. I don't know what your experience was like and I would love to know. I don't want to minimize if it was important to you, or if you were able to recognize the importance of showing up as your true self. It's a wonderful, beautiful thing to show up completely. I just know for some of us, myself included it feels like you're entering the danger zone.

“'Cause agony brings no reward. For one more hit and one last score. Don't be a casualty, cut the cord!” (“Cut the Cord,” Shinedown). Those were the words I heard before I started talking. I needed to clear my thoughts and clear my mind, so in a proverbial manner, I cut the cord, so that I could show up in full, even though I was tired, burnt out, and didn't feel like it. From my words and the questions of others, I hope that you were left with a reminder to skip the assumptions and ask the needs. I hope you were left with a reminder that there's always a resuscitative effort, in life, in career, and in the moments that you show up even when you feel like it's about to break you. I've made a habit of that whether I've wanted to or not. And, I know that next time I sit across from you with a microphone it will be different because it always is. Thank you for listening.