Soundtrack – George Lovett, Ruby (Whistle Song)
Three years of sexual and romantic abstinence had unfolded before the recording of Standing in Love aired when my heart proclaimed its rightful throne. It forced my mind to reimagine what was seemingly out of reach and downright impossible. I dug deep into my love organ working tirelessly on understanding misfortune, forgiveness, gratitude, and most importantly my definition of, and an aching longing to be the truest version of me.
I’d recall a small quarrel between me and a college suitemate. She shared a story about her promiscuous teenage years, and I remarked, “Your mother raised a hoe.” She replied, “My mother raised a lady, what did your mother raise?” I still don’t know how she reasoned her stories to be anything near lady-like, but I do remember feeling a burn after the words escaped her lips because nothing in me felt like a lady. I mean really, I used to tell people I was a boy on the inside because I grew up with a mother who was as tough as leather, two older brothers, and enough male cousins to start a football team. No one was feminine or even close ladylike. From then on, I dedicated myself to evolving my character, my speech, and my outward expression. I dug my heels into this deep need to shift my default nature from masculine to feminine, and so I did. Then finally, I was ready. Ready to share my story. Exposing my inflictions and woes purposefully in love laced with suffocating truths exonerated my heart to courageously feel again.
During the first few months post Standing in Love’s airing, as each day revealed itself, I came to learn that I’d betrayed my own desires and instead allowed society to orchestrate them for me. I was drowning in the dominant culture of hyper-productivity, that I didn’t realize its consumption of my innermost sacred ambitions. Here at the cookout, we call that “hustle culture”. I quickly learned I was the one who hustled. Hustled out of my femininity, my nurturing nature, and my hunger for love.
There is not enough discourse around what occurs, internally, after a self-inflicted assassination of who you once knew yourself to be, of the identity you thought was created of your own free will. Between the jungle of confusion and the elimination of esteem, I choose to stay the course to envision who I might be.
Relief is what I felt after the irrevocable truth leaped off my chest. However, very soon after, my soul was floating in a room that no longer had paintings on the walls or furniture to arrange. There was nothing. My identity, at that point, was a blank canvas. Exciting yet terrifying. Here are some of the hard truths I’ve tussled with:
- Exhaustion: Yes, I was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. The weight of
being a financial expert on the road to millionaire status taxed my mind. The armor I
wore to protect myself from another abusive partner or frenemy burdened my
emotions. Once I learned to release the pressure, unnecessary responsibility, and fear
of one-sided connections I was free to safely rest. - Broken Heartedness: No words can describe the ache that overcomes my chest every
now and again. Although true, the acknowledgment of my broken heart makes it much easier to diagnose my feelings and manage my needs. - Imposter Syndrome: There is one deep question, what do I truly want for my life? In
order to answer this question, I needed to honor my truth. My truth does not revolve
around my own professional success or notoriety. In fact, it’s the complete opposite of my previous primary focus of becoming a multi-millionaire personal finance expert. Was I capable of making this drastic declaration of self? - Freedom: I had to make the decision to be free of my own judgment. Which meant
stripping myself of intense jealousy, envy, and comparison of women who were
considered beautiful and feminine by societal standards. I needed to stop comparing my experiences and inflated sense of ability against others; men and women alike. I needed to stop competing. I learned to be. - Being: The key to being is knowing that no one is thinking about me. Not because I’m
irrelevant or invaluable but rather because 99% of people are thinking about themselves and their situation. So, I learned to simply do what I want, wear what want, and stop selling myself to others.
While I’m privileged to say I’ve overcome these tussles, there is so much more to learn and new obstacles that reveal themselves daily. The uncovering of my truth is a lifelong journey; I’m simply grateful to be walking in the correct direction.
Still Standing,
Janey Nemard
P.S. Facing your truth is one of the hardest things you’ll do because the only person that can fix things or make them “right” is you – there are no shortcuts
