Dare to Speak Your Truth
Learning how to use your voice can change your life
“Crap!” I thought to myself, “Crap! Crap! Crap!”
Everyone was sitting on the brown carpeted floor of the motel room. Six sets of eyes were all focused on me, waiting for me to respond. Wasn’t his question a violation of the damn rules? This is not how Truth or Dare is supposed to work. I wanted the other guy, not him!
We had been stuck in this roadside motel for two days. Our motley crew of ten high school students and two teachers were headed to Atlanta to compete in the state mock trial competition. A freak snowstorm left us stranded at some nondescript motel with only Waffle House as our means of sustenance. We were using our socks as gloves and were finding creative ways to keep ourselves occupied. Which is how I ended up in this stupid predicament…
Someone thought it would be a good idea if we played Truth or Dare. Normally, I’m Miss Goodie Two Shoes and leave the vicinity whenever dumb shit is about to go down. But Mark was there. He was so fine. I don’t normally like light-skinned guys but for him I was willing to make an exception. When I sat my butt down on this floor, it was in hopes of taking some dare that had me lip locking with him.
Instead, Toby, who was firmly situated in the friend zone, asked to me “go” with him. What??!! I felt hoodwinked, bamboozled. He wasn’t a bad guy. It’s just…he wasn’t Mark. And now, in front of everyone, I had to give him an answer. Lena, who I suspected actually wanted Toby, was giving me the evil eye. I wanted to scream, “I don’t want him!”
But that would be mean. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings with all those eyes watching. So, there in that dank motel room, sitting in a circle of friends, I heard myself say yes. I rationalized that I could just break up with him later when all eyes weren’t on me. When his pride could be spared. The irony is that weeks later he would break up with me because, according to him, I was frigid. No, I wanted to scream, I just didn’t want you!
I was 15 years old and already programmed to put aside my feelings, my wants, to salvage a man’s ego. For weeks, I played sweet and considerate, waiting for the right time to break up with him. Every time he held my hand I wanted to smack him away. I hated meeting him in the hallway after class, but I swallowed my disdain and bided my time. Sadly, it would not be the last time that I sacrificed myself to spare some man some hurt.
Four months after getting married, I knew that I had made a mistake. We sat in the front seats of our faded green sedan in the parking lot outside my office building. While the world was going on around us, I slid the wedding ring off my finger and put it in his hands.
He cried and announced that he would kill himself. I felt like the most horrible person in the world. And now, dumped at my feet was the responsibility of his life. It wasn’t fair. On top of that was all the religious guilt.
So I buried what I wanted and took up the mantle of martyr. I read all the books and went to all the marriage group gatherings. Always trying to make it right. Always trying to make it fit.
Until one day, I didn’t know who I was anymore. I was numb to the world around me and in a constant fight for survival. When I had moments to myself, I slipped away into my daydreams. In my daydreams, I was brave. In my daydreams, I said what needed to be said.
Sometimes, I would imagine what my life would have been like if I had walked away that day in the parking lot. How different would my life have been? Would I have joined the Foreign Service? Would I have started traveling sooner? Would I have still had children?
What I learned, from that day on the floor in that motel room and from the day in that faded green car, is to speak for me. Back then, I didn’t know the power of my voice. I didn’t know that I could stand up for myself and not be responsible for how another person reacted to it.
Author’s Note №1
Support my java habit by buying me a cup of coffee (or a glass of wine).
Author’s Note №2
It would mean the world to me if you would stop by to view my photography gallery.
Jenita Lawal is a writer, traveler, amateur photographer, entrepreneur, and mother. After 20+years of living the American Dream, she sold everything and packed her suitcases to pursue the life of her dreams. She lives abroad in Mexico with her three teenage sons and loves exploring whenever there’s an opportunity. She’s on Instagram @jenitalawal.
