I Told On Myself

I had been preparing for weeks.

And the night before, I could not get through it.

I would start, and my mind would go blank.

Start again. Blank again.

So I called my friend Ashley.

She said three words.

Tell the truth.

And my first thought was, absolutely not.

I cannot walk into a room of women and tell them I am nervous.

I cannot tell them I am anxious.

I went to bed.

I said my prayers.

And in the quiet, I heard a voice.

Remember… you cannot wear that layer of protection.

Oh my gosh.

Here I was, about to walk into a room full of women who carry titles and expectations and perfection every single day…

and I was standing in my own bedroom, reaching for it again.

The morning came and I was still nervous.

My cousin Aaron drove with me and gave me a pep talk the whole way.

And I kept going back to that voice.

You cannot wear perfection.

You have to sit down with that little girl.

So I put on a song.

"Primo," I said. "This is my hype song."

Then I told him why.

It was The Way You Make Me Feel, by Michael Jackson.

My mom loved that song.

She still does.

I can see her getting ready to go out with her friends, that song filling up the house.

My mom is four foot eleven.

She would put on her heels and stand six feet tall.

To a five year old, she was six feet tall.

Then another song came. And another.

And by the time I pulled into that event, I had danced my nerves right off.

But before I went in, a woman named Nicole was on my heart.

She leads FIRE. Faith in real estate.

She is also a peer and a mentor on my real estate team.

And I knew exactly why she was on my heart that morning.

She is a powerhouse.

Her faith is unwavering and undeniable.

She is a prayer warrior.

So I reached out.

She called me back just in time, right as I pulled into that parking lot.

I asked her if she would pray over me.

And she did.

I have not stopped thinking about that prayer.

I walked into that room exactly as God created me to be.

And when I stepped onto the stage, I said one more prayer of my own.

God, speak through me.

I am just here to carry the message.

The first thing I asked them was the thing I wanted them to carry home.

Who were you before the world told you who you should be?

Then I told them a little about where I come from and who I am today.

And then I said it.

"And now I am going to tell on myself."

So I did.

I told them about the night before. The blank mind. The prayer. The voice.

That perfection does not fit me anymore.

The room laughed.

I laughed with them.

I stood up there and admitted I am imperfect, and then I laid it down on the floor of that stage and left it there.

Not because it made a good moment.

Because it was true, and the truth is all I have to give an audience at the end of the day.

Later in the talk I said something I want to say again here.

Success does not equal authenticity.

You can be doing beautifully and still be wearing the costume.

And then I told them about her.

The little girl.

I was five, and I was an only child for a long time, so my house was full of grown-ups.

When people came over, I would practically lock them in a room with me until they played.

And they would.

They would create with me. They would dream with me.

Then they would go back to the living room and I would stay behind, still dreaming it up.

And when it was ready, I would walk out and sit every adult in that house down and announce that it was "showtime."

Then I would perform whatever song or dance I had made up that day.

I did not do it for the applause.

I did it because something in me already knew it brought them joy.

That is what "showtime" meant when I was five.

Somewhere along the way it turned into performance.

Not anymore.

And I told that room the other thing I know about her.

She is fun.

Playing with her is fun.

I danced the whole way to that event.

I had to shake my nerves off, and she is the one who knew how.

Somewhere in there I looked up.

And I saw women in that room with tears rolling down their faces.

I knew I had moved something.

I have thought about that morning for three weeks now.

Not about the stage.

About the drive there.

About how close I came to walking in wearing the thing I was about to ask them to take off.

So here is what I want to say to you.

Maybe it's a stage.

Maybe it's a conversation you have been avoiding.

Maybe it's a meeting, or a hard season, or a good season that scares you just as much.

Before you walk into it, go find her.

The one you were before the world told you who to be.

"Showtime" was mine.

Yours will be something else.

Maybe she is telling you to dream.

Maybe she is telling you to be curious.

Maybe she is telling you to play more.

Maybe she is telling you to stop playing so small.

Maybe she is telling you that you are doing great.

Or maybe that little voice is telling you that you do not have to be perfect…

because you already are.

That is what I told that room.

You were created in God's image.

And if you can get quiet enough to hear her, I pray it gives you the courage to walk in scared.

There are going to be many more of these rooms in my life.

I already know what I will do.

I will go back to that five year old.

And I will remember the people who taught me how to carry this light…

the ones who saw it in me long before I saw it in myself.

With light and love,

Kristi J

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