Me Too.

Something Holy happens when you say those two words, “me too.” There is no judgement in those words, there is no confusion, there is no contention, there is no fear- there is only peace and healing. 

So many of us have “ME TOO” moments. Many simple and insignificant like breaking your ankle walking down a street and your friend does the same at the airport. And then there are those who have their own personal ‘me too’ moments and it takes every ounce of strength and courage to barely whisper those words. 

So here I am-- ME TOO.

I wrote a blog two weeks ago, but I never hit publish. I typed it all up because I finally had the courage to type it and then every day it just stares at me in the corner of my computer screen and I see the small Word icon with the word “counseling” underneath of the big blue W. 

I started counseling. When I first wrote the beginning of the blog, I began it with “I started counseling and then I flew 1500 miles to the White Mountains - and that took guts to write.” Three simple words- I started counseling. Two simpler words- Me Too.

I don’t know why we make it seem like counseling is such a bad thing. Especially as Christians. Or maybe people in general, have decided to put “counseling” in to the shadows of something being bad, but for whatever reason, when I tell people I am going to counseling, I used to feel timid and shameful. Now, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders and I feel the most at peace I have ever felt.

I would read about people going to counseling and think, “Man- what is it that got them to that point?” or I would ponder, “Something really must be wrong with their marriage, life, career, kids, etc. to make them go.”  That was the biggest lie I ever believed.  Growing up, if I heard someone was going to counseling or having a 1 on 1 with their pastors, then they werereally messed up and I should probably just avoid them. Second biggest lie I ever believed. 

I can’t explain to you what happens in that little room or what even took place in the White Mountains of New England. But, I can tell you that it was a holy and it started something inside of me that I never knew could exist… freely. Third lie I believed- “you can’t be free and you don’t need it.” 

I never knew that I needed counseling until I went. I never knew that the issues from my childhood or high school, or even college for that matter, needed to be addressed. But I found myself, pushing things down on the inside of me and pushing away the people that I knew loved me and meant to do good in my life. 

I have learned that you don’t need to tell everyone everything. Fourth lie- put it all on social media or didn’t happen.Sometimes, just showing up and and waving a white flag is good enough. Even if it that white flag means surrender, especially, if it is means surrender to Jesus. I still don’t know if I am ready to write or talk about everyyyyy ttthing, and that’s okay. But sometimes, recognizing another person saying “me too” helps you have the courage to say, “Hey- ME TOO, too!” 

Fifth lie- Don’t talk about it and you’ll forget that it ever happened. I was a freshman in high school and he was the charming senior. He noticed me and that made me feel important. He flirted with me and that was exhilarating. He invited me over to his house and I went home crying and devastated. I don’t justify what happened that day. I don’t even want to necessarily talk about what happened that day, all I know is that I was not the one making the decisions that day and I never want to experience that again. I was not in control and I was afraid. When I think of the guys who I dated throughout my life- he doesn’t make the list. His name is to not be spoken. But he exists and he is a good reminder of don’t let anyone get too close and don’t let anyone pour you a drink that you don’t know what is in it. 

I was about eight or nine. I don’t remember the exact age, but I know I was old enough to obviously remember, but still too young to be left home alone. I looked up to her as a friend/cool person in the neighborhood. I mean, my parents trusted her enough to leave me with her or let me go play at her house and watch movies after school. I even hung out with her brother. He was ironically enough, my very first kiss at the age of 5. Anyway- that’s beside the point. I don’t really remember much before those two days and I certainly don’t remember much after. I have blocked the majority of it out. But it happened. She did stuff. She made me do stuff. She did more stuff. I was not in control. And then I don’t know what happened- but she was never a part of my life and I made sure to block those memories out until July of 2017 when I was sitting in Quapaw, Oklahoma and they instantly invaded everything that was in my line of view, and it was like a movie that I could not turn off that was playing in front of me.  I say she and I put an emphasis on “SHE” because #METOO can happen regardless of who the gender is on the other side, forcing you to do stuff. #METOO is no respecter of person. 

I was raised in an amazing home with parents whom I know love me with all that they humanly can. For the longest time, I used that “perfect family” as a crutch of why things happen or don’t happen. Many think bad things happen because you are raised in a bad home or with abusive parents or you yourself put yourself in a bad situation and you caused whatever to happen. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. That’s just the bottom line. I was and am a good person. I made mistakes in high school, I ran with the wrong crowd, I got arrested and been to court a few times. I moved away and then moved back home. I went to Bible college and made even more idiot decisions and then went back home. I made bad financial decisions, I made good financial decision.  I walked away from Christ, and then ran back to Him so many times I can’t count, and there is so much more. 

I say all of that to say, regardless of the side of the town you are from, or what your family looks like, or whether bad or good things have happened to you, I was made to believe, thanks to society, that I just needed to take all those life events and just suppress them, and never really talk about them. Even if there were #metoo events that had happened in my life.

No, thank you. 

It was Wednesday, July 26th and I was sitting at my kitchen table eating cereal with my roommate. It’s not uncommon for me to eat cereal at any given time of the day, let me just state that. It’s my favorite food group. It was a fun day- we had just gotten home from youth, and we were just sitting there talking about whatever. And out of left field, my roommate said something-I’m sure jokingly, and for whatever reason, I immediately put my walls up, went on the defense and busted out into tears and realized I needed help.  I picked up my phone and texted two of my family pastors, The Crows. And oh poor Kimber- She had just found out that her foot was broken and she couldn’t sleep due to the weird positioning of her foot (I get it sister- two broken ankles and two knee surgeries, I know the struggle) and she said we could text about whatever I needed to talk about and instead, I asked if I could call her. When she answered the phone, I started the conversation with, “This is going to be an intense, weighted conversation” and then began the tears, the shaking voice, and the word vomiting. I’m not sure how long that conversation lasted, but I sat there bawling my eyes out hysterically, on my front porch at 11:30pm. I remember when I walked back in the house, my roommate Rosalyn asked me, “What just happened. Are you okay?” All I could say was, “No- I’m not okay, but I will be fine.  I needed to talk with someone who I know would hold me accountable and not let me not deal with this” or something along those lines. 

I remember that was one of the best nights of sleep I have ever had. 

I host a circle, I am a youth leader, I am a women’s leader, I run a café, I’m an assistant manager, a friend, a daughter, a confidant- I’m used to counseling people and talking about their problems. Key phrase, “I’m used to counseling and talking about their problems.” And yet, this time, Jesus was letting me know that the tables were about to be turned.  Sigh *white flag*I’m not gonna lie. I wanted to put up every single wall and not make that phone call. But I did. I waved my white flag on July 26th, 2017 and I haven’t stopped waving my white flag ever since. 

Fast forward to October 16th, 2017. I was scrolling through social media and I began to see all these posts about “me too” and I saw the hashtag #metoo. Of course, curious Jenn Marie clicked on that hashtag. So many women, daughters, sisters, church leaders, students, and colleagues- they were all sharing some of their “Me Too” moments. It was beautiful, it was heart wrenching, it was appalling, but most of all- it was healing. 

The things that I thought I had dealt with, I realized that I never dealt with them, I just suppressed them. One of the biggest things, I struggled with, was being able to open up to a complete stranger or just to someone who genuinely cared. Sharing your story and being vulnerable is hard sometimes. Okay, a lot of times. I was great at smiling and taking the selfie and pretending everything was okay, but then it began to show and I just felt weighed down and exhausted. And then I walked into the counseling office and the first thing the person on the other side of the room said to me was, “Me Too, Jenn Marie. Me Too.” 

So, to those who have #metoo moments and to those who are scared to talk and who have been hurt- people like me and millions of others, unfortunately millions of others, we’re a community and we’re here. I’m here to not be silent. I’m here to wave a white flag even if it means holding your arm, as you wave your white flag. 

To the sisterhood of #METOO, we are in this together. 

xo