Where was that mental hospital when I went to one in 1992?!? Those are the things we need to be learning in life. We need to be learning how to grieve and feel and heal and process and hurt and fall apart and resurrect and then start the whole thing over again the next day. I have always felt more comfortable with the night. Daylight showed all of my unbearable faults. Daylight meant being shoved out of the house and into school where I never felt safe or okay. Thank you for being brave in making the unknown known. Yours is a REAL superhero life.

Please, don’t stop sharing, writing, engaging. Not for one day. Like, for reals. Your truth is a beacon, and sometimes, some people…. we just need light, as much as breath. Which sometimes feels like a hot blowdryer pointed directly into the mouth.
One day I will have the best words. But now- just, thank you. That is all.

And don’t stop. Seriously.

I get that pain pushes us to seek others out, but how do you tell people that you have lost the ability to function in the world. It feels too much to ask of another human being.

I sat on this post for days because I didn’t want to come out of my distractions and distractability quite yet to be present to listen. And today I did and it was wonderful. You did an excellent job.

I just watched this video. AMAZING! I enjoy public speaking and present regularly for my job. But I’d still definitely be very nervous to get up and talk to a crowd like this. Glennon, you look totally comfortable and in control — not at all nervous or oily or uncomfortable. Just standing on that stage is a huge accomplishment and you nailed it.
But you didn’t stop there. You actually took bravery to a whole new level by getting up and telling your personal story. Thank you for fighting your fear, showing up and inspiring the rest of us to do the same!

I got PTSD from the mental hospital to which they sent me for repair. I was sent there because I was messy and honest and flailing about (at 16). I learned how to strip off the capes (great analogy!) by being as unflinching as I could be, by owning my imperfections and understanding that most of my failings had already been done by others and often with more panache, therefore making most secrets pointless. What I keep secret is only what is too painful to look at just yet, and that’s improving. And yes, when people ask me “How are you?” I warn them — don’t ask unless you actually want to know or I *will* tell you.

In the meantime, I have learned that everything that hurts or challenges us comes with at least one gift — it is our job to to figure out what those gifts are. PTSD, as an example, saved my baby daughter’s life and, much later, my granddaughter’s life and my own, because it’s given me the reflexes of a race car driver. It also made me hell on wheels when I got my red belt in mixed martial arts at the age of 56. You have been given many blessings by all you’ve gone through and I’m betting you know what those are.

So, please remember that who you are is wonderful and your imperfections are actually many of your strengths, as long as you take them out from under the rug and install them, with grape juice and pg&j sandwich, in your easy chair, which you have done.

Big hugs and nose smoochies,

Maya

REFRESHING!!!!!!! Thank you 🙂

the thigns you learned at the mental hospital are so wonderful! and hard to learn. i m still trying. i do wish you d stop pacing a tad bit… but i guess you were uber nervous. i would have talked so fast no one would have gotten a word, you did it nice and paced. you did a rally good job!

Thank you for this. I just finally had time to sit and listen, really listen to your brutiful words. They spoke such truth to me, because, like you, I was built to be extra sensitive. Over the years I’ve dulled my feelings with sleep, food and shopping, and I am going to remember your words and be grateful for the sun’s invitation tomorrow to welcome me into the world and I’m going to feel my feelings and see how that goes.

“Sensitive is just how I was made. I dont have to hide it and I dont have to fix it – I’m not broken.” LOVE. Thank you. 🙂

You put so beautifully into words what I feel. Thank you. This is just so *right*.

Glennon. All I can say is thank you for showing up on Mother’s Day eleven years ago. It’s the time in my life to take off the capes, deal with my feelings and fears, lean in, and show up. Thanks for leading the way.

Wow!!! I related so much to what you wrote its kinda nuts. Thank you SO MUCH for sharing. I can imagine it was incredibly scary to do that but for me personally, you just made a big impact and I am very grateful to have seen it. Keep at it lady! I need your inspiring words!

Thanks for posting, Glennon. The talk was wonderful – yay for showing up!

Thank you for having the courage to do this talk!! I’ve watched it several times and always tear up when you say “sensitive is just how I was made. I don’t have to hide it. I don’t have to fix it. I’m not broken.” I have a gentle, sweet, sensitive 9 year old daughter who struggles with extreme anxiety…so much so that we’ve started seeing a therapist to help her (and us) understand and manage it. As she was preparing for her first sleep-over yesterday and dealing with all of the anxiety that goes along with that…your words kept coming back into my mind. She’s not broken. I don’t have to fix her. These feelings won’t kill her. Instead I said, “Baby, this may be hard for you, but I promise you…you can do hard things!!!” Thank you for that perspective and those words. Thank you for having the courage to share your story with your whole heart b/c your story is helping me help my daughter have the courage to go out into the big messy world and just be her sweet, sensitive, highly-anxious self! I know God has great things planned for her….as he has had for you:). So thank you, thank you, thank you for having the courage to speak the truth! (And btw…she had an absolute ball at her sleepover…thank you Jesus and Glennon!!).

I am grateful for this kind of refreshing truth. I honor your story and you.

You know, I can say with 100% certainty that I know exactly the moment I decided to climb out of hiding and tell the whole truth about ‘who I am’–it was 2 days after my 40th birthday, back in January 2012. I documented it with the following blog post:

January 11, 2012

“Discovered this AMAZING BLOG 5 days ago, and have barely been able to pry myself away from it to perform the simplest of tasks in everyday life (think, sitting on the potty reading from an iPhone). It cried out to me through a FB share posted by one of my dearest friends from college on a day when I, myself, JUST COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. Of course, nobody knew that I had worked little ole me into a tizzy, because….well…I…um…hide when that happens, and can only be lured out by those who know me best, when they realize they haven’t heard from me for a bit. Sometimes, even that doesn’t work. Anyway, I think the author of the blog and I just may have been twins separated at birth. We have a lot in common. Her posts are exactly what I feel, and want to say, pretty much verbatim. Of course, she is a much more gifted writer than I. But then again, who isn’t? A girl can dream though. The stories I’ve read so far on Momastery have inspired me to adopt this as my new mantra:

“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.”

Because at the end of the day, somebody has to renovate this fixer-upper I call life, huh? Might as well pick out the paint myself.”

AND THAT WAS THAT. Been shamelessly telling my truth ever since.
I thank you with my whole heart. You’ve made a world of difference in my life 🙂

Nancy

Glennon, this was so right. I have been practicing my truth telling on my blog and it’s been so…brutiful. Thank you for showing up – you’ve been a blessing/mentor/guiding voice (in a non-pressure sort of way) in my life the last couple years. Thank you for the inspiration and the honestly and the pure human-ness of all of it.

Wish I could have been with you at a book signing.

Fabulous!!! You are just as much a compelling speaker as you are a writer.

I really enjoyed this clip, I feel like she was talking about my story, I am dual diagnosed, I have been looking for a sponsor and Ive been looking for someone with the understanding of being diagnosed, this has left me feeling like its not just me

Oh, Glennon! Your honesty has been a light in my life for a couple years now, and when I saw you, in a video, with the giant TED letters behind you, I felt like two of my biggest favorites collided. I’m so happy you got to share there. Thanks for doing the scary things. I’m a sensitive soul and began tentatively writing a blog a year ago. I never read or cared about blogs until you showed me what they could be. And I feel like you’re a warrior blazing a path through time and space, so I can see how to do this honest thing. Any time my blog gets too shiny, I read your blog until I can go back and write something that shines.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

P.S. I realize this is more of an email-type of “comment” but I couldn’t figure out how to do that…Can you believe I have my own BLOG?! Look at my techy self go!

Oh Glennon! Oh, oh, oh. So brave. So loved. Your honesty is saving lives. Mine for one! Thank you for the gift of you.

Lucinda
P.S. I just bought your book at an independant booksellers called McNally Jackson in NYC. You’ll never guess where I found it…in the psychology section under ‘cognitive behaviour’. Made me laugh and I thought it might make you smile too. 🙂

A poem for you, Glennon, by Tom Hennen:

what the plants say :: tom hennen

Tree, give up your secret. How can you be so satisfied? Why
don’t you need to change location, look for a better job, find
prettier scenery, or even want to get away from people?

Grass, you don’t care where you turn up. You appear running
wild in the oat field, out of a crack in a city street. You are
the first word in the vocabulary of the earth. How is it that you
are able to grow so near the lake without falling in? How can
you be so alert for the early frost, bend in the slightest breeze,
and yet be so hard to break that you are still there, quiet, green,
among the ruins of others?

Weed, it is you with your bad reputation that I love the most.
Teach me not to care what anyone has to say about me. Help me
to be in the world for no purpose at all except for the joy of
sunlight and rain. Keep me close to the edge where every wild
thing begins.

Long time reader. First time commenter. (Surely that is a word!) You might not know this- and it doesn’t have anything to do with your Ted talk, but holy cow Glennon, you were beautiful and amazing and I felt so proud to “know” you. You are my hero. Your mantras, all of them, have become my mantras, family mantras, offering-to-friends mantras. Used on a daily basis. You have rocked my world, you and I are kindred spirits (did you know that?) And believe it or not, just about every day something will happen, I will see something, hear something, and actually think,”I totally need to call Glennon and tell her about this.” We are that close, even if it creeps you out a bit. I am loving giving your book away as gifts! Who DOESN’T NEED TO BE REMINDED OF ALL THIS? It just took you and your strength and bravery and awesome sense of humor and sense of real-ness at the same time- to break down walls. I live in Brandon, a suburb of Tampa, and my husband has been spending so much time in Ft. Lauderdale for business…um, NOT FAIR! I am home with our two boys, nine and thirteen. You say what I think, some days you make me crack up, and even though today was a a luncheon with a group of girlfriends, I sit here with my loyal dog (we saved each other, we really did!) In my pajamas, just unable to SHOW UP. I know loneliness, I know highs and lows all in one day, know all about stuff like that. In a different, but maybe somewhat the same way as you. I went nuts and decided to get out my violin from high school (you and I are the same age) and remembered myself as basically the rockstar, best violinist ever back in the day. The reason I got it out recently was to join the church orchestra, a bold move. Um, after all these years, I gotvthatvinstrument out of the case, kids watching with eyes wide open…and I sucked it. Bad. My oldests’ comment was, “Mom, you are so lucky this is church and they sh ouldn’t be judging you there.” The younger boy-child’s comment was, “Really, mom, you used to be good at this?” So with that love and support, went off to see what I was getting myself into at church. It was ugly at first. But no one said a word. My fingers had just forgotten how to move. I came home bummed, expecting more of myself and handed my music binder to the kids and had them each write WE CAN DO HARD THINGS. on the front. It worked. I had to practice. And since February, when all this began, I discovered that playing on the altar with amazing musicians and a choir that makes me cry on a weekly basis with their beauty….mama found a happy spot. My other happy spot happens to be in the world of pediatric cancer, where oddly enough, I found God. My family now regularly helps local families facing childhood cancer and supports local nonprofits doing amazing things for both research and meeting the practical needs of these families…sometimes when we have to wake up early on a Saturday morning (I am a night owl, so I resent mornings…and like you, having to cook dinner every single day, but I could go on and on about all we have in common
) ANYWAY, I tell the kids, “You’re healthy. We Belong To Each Other. We are going to do hard things today- we can! And besides, God said to love your neighbor.” They cannot argue these points, so off we go, and we are always transformed. Being a hermit, really while the kids are at school(though I dovlove to volunteer- you know, for short periods at a time, because anything more is EXHAUSTING, God bless teachers)- getting out and spreading HOPE for these local families, which could be mine tomorrow- is a very very happy place. I have written so much, have more to say- but I look forward to meeting you in Fort Myers in a few weeks and giving you a great big hug. There might be some tears of love and appreciation. You are welcome to come a bit farther tocthe north, anywhere in the Tampa Bay area sometime, hint, hint. Thank you for everything, soul sister. You make my day every single day in some way. We got each other’s backs, G. You are dearly, dearly loved. Thank you for being you and giving yourself to us. Youvare changing lives, this one, at least. Sorry about all the scrappy misspellings and poor punctuation…I am a fellow grammar Nazi, but I am on this shitty smart phone with these tiny keys that really irritate me. And I don’t need that, I have kids to live on in thirty min. Can’t wait to meet you. Till then, Carrying On, Warrior.

G – I loved this. Thank you for helping it to be okay to be how we are made. As a sensitive person myself and the mother of a super-sensitive one, I always hope she will know better than I that she’s exactly who she is supposed to be. I was always told to tough it up and stop feeling so much, and I don’t know how to teach her to cope with these BIG feelings and survive this messy world. I have only learned those skills as an adult but I never want to see my beautiful passionate girl hiding under her capes like I’ve done. What do you wish you had been told before you started hiding?

You NAILED IT!! That was so amazing. Thank you for helping me be a truth teller and not feel shame because of it. When people ask me how I am feeling and I actually tell them…I feel so much better.

This was fantastic; everyone should watch it! Thank you for being you.

Wow. So inspiring. Inspired me to come clean about a painful truth in my life on my blog. Would have never done so if I had not seen this. Thank you! Truly.

A student of mine sent me this. HE felt so connected to your experience he shared with me. Thanks for your writing. Instead of teaching my class—they are involved in projects—and while I have a million things to do I’ve been perusing your blog. So lovely. i got to the bottom and noticed your play list and MY COUSIN Joe Pug is on your list. So neat to see that he is enjoyed by many across the country. Small world.

Monks- If you ever need to defend your truth-telling, feel free to use this. I may have used it a few times. Love, G

Dear Friend,

It’s not “airing my dirty laundry.”

It’s sharing my humanity. It’s refusing to accept the lie that my past, my feelings, or my very being is wrong. Everything is sacred, but sacred does not mean secret. Truth telling is self-care and a spiritual practice and public service.

Just like diabetics check their sugar levels daily to avoid insulin shock and heart patients watch their diets to avoid blockage – Hiders truth- tell to avoid SHAME.

Please, please consider accepting the TRUTH that you have NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF and that your mistakes and your weaknesses are the GOOD STUFF. I’ve never made a friend by bragging about my strengths but I’ve made countless friends by sharing my weaknesses. Because at our cores: we are all the same. Our strengths are all different, but our weaknesses are ALL THE SAME. Start there.

Folks- I’ve got plenty of dirty laundry, but it’s all mildewing in my dryer right now. None if it is in this talk.
Truth telling and Hope Spreading in Naples,
Glennon

Wow – thank you – wow!

You are so authentic and the world needs authentic leaders. I have always called them masks but I am trying to follow your lead – take off my mask – and become the real Lindsey. And, wow, that hurts sometimes…I’m the type that starts putting on my makeup in the dark so I don’t have to see my bare face in the light. Today, I actually left the house with no makeup in the full sun. Progress – masks off – capes off – let’s come into the light and let the light in us illuminate the path for others.

I enjoyed your book and this talk! My favorite was the chapter about living in the middle of nowhere and other chapters made my heart hurt for you. I admire your bravery (feeling the fear and doing it anyway).

I’m also a sensitive type. It’s good to hear that’s just how you’re made. I finally came to that conclusion but wish it hadn’t taken me so long to figure that out:)

My brother lost his battle with addiction when he was 27, leaving a widow and two young children behind. It makes me happy to know that sometimes struggles with addiction have a happier ending.

Reading your blog has been healing, keep up the good work!

I never noticed until last night how much you sound like your mother. What a nice thing to discover. All the best, K

Loved it!!! Thank u for showing up. We all need this….

Okay, so I ordered your book the first day it was available on Amazon, having followed your blog, and saw it highly recommended in the “Mom World” — but then I’m in Wal-mart last weekend. And I living in the middle of nowhere – Yorkton, Saskatchewan, Canada (google it … middle of nowhere literally!) and your book was sitting front and center on the book display! I was so proud of you (and don’t even know you!), but wanted to share this evidence that the impact of your words is going so far beyond your reach — thank you so very much!

So incredibly proud of you! It’s seriously like you’re my sister or something. I’ve heard and read bits and pieces of that story so many times, but it never gets old. Just like the sun, your story keeps vigil. For all of us who are still hiding some part of who we are, your story will be there over and over until we’re brave enough to show up too.

Dear Glennon, thank you for showing up with all of your sensitivity, for all of us – including those who hid their own emotional beings for years, under various disguises (socially correct or not).

We can feel this sincerity, these emotions right there on stage with you, particularly when they make your voice quiver – and this is beautiful. It is brave and strong, to speak through your vulnerability. To make it all bloom in our own hearts.

Loved it….you tell your story really well

Thank you for showing up for all of us.

It’s like the Veveteen Rabbit. Real.

G, your book is still sitting on my coffee table and I’m still terrified to read it and I still don’t know why. Your speech was brutiful and moving. I’m in tears. And I’m one step closer to reading the book. I struggle with anxiety and panic disorder and chronic pain and although I love the sunrise and the sunshine, I much prefer the safety of the night and of my bed. I’m so afraid of the literal cape that is my blanket, afraid of feeling both physically and emotionally but I’m more afraid of continuing to let life pass me by. I’m trying so hard and learning so much from reading old posts and hoping to gain the courage to return to the functional and productive life I miss so dearly.
Tracie in NY
(Any Monkees in Queens, Long Island, NYC?!)
[email protected]

I was mesmerized by your presentation. I connect to you on so many levels that it hurts yet it feels like a weight has been lifted. The only thing missing was the part when everyone nods his head and says “amen.”

This is excellent. I get this. Thank God for Hope every morning!

Beautiful. I loved it. LOVED IT. Day by day your voice and words are helping me admit to myself that I am not ok all the time and I don’t have to be a superhero mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister, and employee. And once I admit it to myself, I know I can admit it to others and be content to JUST SHOW UP. Because that’s all I really want, is to just be enough.

Glennon, you gorgeous girl! Thank you for leading me to the light.

You are wonderful, thank you for showing up!

G-
you are so inspiring. I cannot put your book down. As soon as I am done with it, I am reading it again.
I always tell my kids to be kind each day when I drop them off at school. And now I tell them “We can do hard things.”
We are building a house right now, and the first thing I am hanging on the wall is a big sign that says “We Can Do Hard Things.” Awesome.
You are the reason I started blogging over a year ago. Thank you for the love you are spreading through our brutiful world. Carry on, momma.

You mean that being a sensitive (or even a super-sensitive, gulp) person isn’t a flaw?? I love that you endorse “Real” and not that we ‘should’, ‘supposed to be’, etc….

What a very brave talk!!

Thanks!

Love this talk! Cannot wait to meet you in Pittsburgh!!! You are so brave and so beautiful!

My capes were always the fact that I tried to overachieve, be “normal” because I was sickly as a child and was always out for surgeries. The other kids called me “weirdo” and “Frankenstein” because of my scars. I hid by dressing like the “cool” kids. I wore my cape of dance. I wore my cape of writing. I wore my cape of studies. I wore my cape of shyness.

I broke free in college, but still have emotional scars I try to deal with daily. I still hide in my writing and my studies.

PS: Glennon–Just found out my dissertation is going to be published in a Social Networking series. I mention Momastery and would love to go into more detail and use the post you put up about why you blog. Hope we can talk in Pittsburgh!

Today you took the deep breath, you showed up and did the hard thing! LOVE WINS! So glad we belong to each other!

Tears. Thanks for being you, and for being brave enough to share your truth. You continue to illuminate mine. I am particularly grateful for this. I hope I’ll have the courage to say I’m not ok in the future when I need to.

You rocked it. Well done!

Wow! Way to go G! Thanks for sharing!,

Connecting with your audience is certainly your superpower, G!

My husband has been telling me for years that my strong feelings and sensitivity are gifts, not only to me, but to others as well. This sooooo resonates with me. Thank you.

So proud of you, Glennon. You showed up. You shared. You shone (but not in an oily way, you know?). You showed the way. Good job, sister!!

p.s. your posture rocks. if I could keep my shoulders back even half the time, I would be so happy.