Healing will follow when I’m able to be vulnerable
Sharing difficult emotions helped me affect an audience in New Orleans
Last week was busy. I spent four days in the mountains on a clergy retreat at the Sacramento Camp and Conference Center in southern New Mexico. When the retreat ended last Thursday, I went to my home elsewhere in the state, met a group at my church, and then returned home to prepare to leave bright and early for New Orleans.
Melissa Compton, executive director of the Lone Star Bleeding Disorders Foundation, had invited my wife, Cazandra, and me to speak at a couples’ retreat there, hosted by her chapter and several others. Last month she’d participated in the symposium we delivered at the National Bleeding Disorders Foundation’s annual conference in Atlanta. She talked with us there about speaking at the New Orleans event, and we immediately said yes.
Our seminar’s title was again “Finding Our Way Back to Each Other.” We discussed the most difficult times we had managing hemophilia with our youngest son, Caeleb. Our focus centered on how our lives changed in those times, causing us to lose our connections. We concluded by sharing how we as a family rediscovered one another and, through careful attention to one another’s needs, found new and exciting opportunities to come together.
Cazandra and I flew into New Orleans early so we could enjoy being tourists. We ate, sat by the Mississippi River, ate more, enjoyed time together before our presentation, and, yes, ate even more. I’m glad I don’t live in the Big Easy, as New Orleans is called, because my waistline would expand quickly.
We enjoyed spending time alone with each other before our speaking engagement, but turned our attention to what we’d present to the bleeding disorders community at the event. I felt the pressure to deliver our message with at least as much passion as we’d shared in Atlanta. In fact, I wanted more.
Raising the stakes
I wanted to make the presentation in New Orleans richer and more powerful than I had before. Fighting back thoughts of impostor syndrome, I questioned whether I should be the one standing in front of the wonderful people who came to participate in the New Orleans event. I like to tell people, “My mind is a dangerous neighborhood, so I should never go into it alone.” My anxiety put me in a place where I stood alone in the parietal lobe of my brain.
I kept hearing the phrase “I’m not good enough to stand before this group” rattle through the cobwebs of my mind. Immediately, I remembered that I had someone beside me: Cazandra, my incredible spouse, partner, and best friend. Knowing that she had decided to speak with me helped lower the dial on my internal conversation. The touch of her hand reminded me that we were a team and, together, a formidable duo.
As we stood beside Compton in the front of the room, I looked at the faces in the crowd. I breathed deeply and silently said, “Please let my words matter.” I looked at Cazandra, and we winked at each other, confident that our story might connect with those attending. After we introduced ourselves, Cazandra began sharing her story.
I began to feel a little anxious as my time to speak drew near. For a brief second, I thought of retreating into my shell and providing only facts. Thankfully, my better angels prevailed, and I did the one thing that made me shiver in my boots: I expressed my vulnerabilities, which was necessary for my part to work. Several times, I broke down in the middle of a phrase or two, as the weight of my words made me relive some of the most challenging moments of my relationship with my son and his hemophilia.
Through my preparation and delivery, I found that the power of my contribution centered around my ability to be vulnerable. I described the pain I felt watching my son live through a host of medical complications related to his bleeding disorder, as well as the heartbreak of not being able to save him from pain that wouldn’t let him go.
Ultimately, Cazandra and I spoke of the healing that came to our family, sharing a message of restoration that proved more vital than we could’ve imagined. Afterward, many people approached us with thanks. We thanked the participants as well and wished them well as they continued to find hope in each other’s arms. I rediscovered that the most outstanding messages I could share must come from somewhere more profound than the heart. That’s the soul.
Note: Hemophilia News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Hemophilia News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to hemophilia.
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