Honor Your Truth: True Goofy Stories with a Point

I was sitting in my sixth grade science class at St. Michaels when it was announced that there would be a science fair. I can't remember what my teachers name was? I was thinking it was Mr. Mannix, but then that was a TV show about a detective named Mannix. Anyway, we would all be required to find a partner and do a science project for the fair.

I picked Marge. I have a story about Marge. She had kidney stones and missed school. She was gone long enough for everyone to notice her absence and wonder where she was. I had no idea what kidney stones were, but when kids asked me what was wrong with her, I said confidently, "You wouldn't believe it, but a stone somehow flew in her mouth. I don't know, maybe a bird dropped it in!" Believe it or not, I remember saying exactly that. I don't know why I made that up. How weird? What would the point be? I remembered this when a friend of mine had kidney stones. I asked him, "Well, why didn't you keep your mouth closed like I told you to?" No I am kidding, but his condition did jar the memory loose.

I have thought back about that tall tale and have tried to come up with a reason for it. Did I simply want to appear in the know, in the loop? I have a vague sense that I felt I had to have an answer for every question. Partly because I am the oldest in my family, but I also felt I should know everything, be perfect. I shouldn't need help. If I knew everything, people would like me. Where did I get that message? I received many of these "messages" a long, long time ago. These "messages", also called "old tapes, chatter, static, noises in the head, etc.", are underneath the reactions I have to the outside world and how I feel about myself. My perception of things was already being run through this filter at a very young age. The "message" here is that if I can be perfect, maybe people will like me, maybe people won't leave me. How I behaved was in effort to avoid pain and abandonment. I had already experienced that and wanted to avoid it if at all possible.

With a more accurate diagnosis and treatment than I could provide, Marge got better. There we were, a few years later, coming up with an experiment for the fair. It was decided that we would do an experiment about toothpaste. "Does toothpaste wear down the enamel of your teeth?" Don't ask me where we came up with the idea. We collected teeth that had fallen out of our younger siblings mouths, at least I think we did. I don't know where else we would have come up with these said teeth. Unless of course there really is a tooth fairy, and we had connections with her. We brushed these little teeth with various toothpastes and attempted to measure how much any of them wore down the enamel. If any did, which brand wore them down the most. One tooth per toothpaste. I remember we used that red gel one. I wonder if you can even get that toothpaste anymore. Oh yah, it was called Close-Up. It can't be too good for you. We ran this experiment for one month, collected data, and made an elaborate display for the fair( I am an artist, so I was all about the display) I made up all the data. I did some brushing, Marge didn't brush at all. We never discussed cheating. I just took it upon myself a few days before the project was due. She never said anything.

My teacher, I'll just call him Mannix, interrupted my math class with Mr. Vaughn, and asked to see me. I followed Mannix out into the hall. Marge was in another math class, he never talked to her. I was scared. I probably turned really red. I always turn red if I lie because I am so ashamed of myself. I don't like lying. I grew up with a lot of lying, but that's another story. I was in big trouble now! With all of the "chatter" in my head, doing something wrong had huge consequences. Don't pass go, go straight to jail. No one would like me, everyone would leave me. Mannix looked at me. The results were in....we tied for first place! Can you believe it?

Mannix went on to tell me, that although we tied for first place, the other team would be taking their experiment to the regional science fair. Only one team was allowed to go to regionals. I never did find out why they were chosen over us. I think I cried. I don't remember, but I am pretty sure I did. Mannix wanted to tell me himself, in private. He was probably afraid that I would be very upset about it and maybe even cause a scene. My teacher reports always said I was highly emotional, didn't take criticism well, etc.etc.etc. My mom gave me some stuff recently and the report cards were in there. I found evidence of this as far back as the first grade.

Clearly I am not a scientist, medical doctor or anything remotely close, but I know behaviors are at least partially learned. That being said, I believe that most behavior is a result of how we perceive things to be at the time and what meaning we attach to that perception. The "chatter" in our head can directly effect our perception, which in turn effects how we react to things and how we behave, which in turn can even reinforce the "message" itself. The "message" that I am not enough, just as I am. This can cause perfectionism. Perfect is impossible, but if your life depends on it, if you believe no one will like you and everyone will leave you, you will sure try to be perfect. This can cause one to behave in such a way that alienates people. If I allow it to it can then reinforce the "message"----I am not enough, just as I am.

All this "chatter" doesn't just disappear, even if we aware of it and know it isn't true. However, we can honor our truth, even in its presence. The more we honor our truth, the quieter, fainter it will get. Oh sure, it still pops up and surprises us some times....especially when doing something new....but we can still move forward. I actually feel I am probably on the right track if I do have chatter. The more we trust, the more evidence to the contrary we gather.We are enough just as we are. We can Honor Our Truth!

Debra Hadraba
Honor Your Truth
Inspiration+Action

I posted “Overcoming Chatter and the 6th Grade Science Project” yesterday which would give you a little more background, but in a nutshell.....Oh, by the way, did anyone see Austin Powers? “I’m in a nutshell, I’m in a nutshell”....that was SO funny, but it has nothing to do with this. Anyway, in a nutshell, I did a science fair project that tied for 1st place. The experiment was “Toothpaste. Does It Really Wear Down the Enamel of your Teeth?”

The judges made their decisions and put ribbons on the winning projects. That evening, it was open to the community (the lucky parents) for all to see. We were supposed to stand by our projects and talk about them to anyone interested or at least those seeming to be so. I seriously do not remember Marge (my partner) helping me out there. I'm sure my parents were proud; yet I have no memory of receiving any noteworthy recognition. However, sometime during the evening, I said the magic words....."Maybe I should be a dentist.” It was as if my Dads head flipped around and he cartwheeled over to me. He then chimed in, “You should!”

I now pay attention to the word “should” It is a red flag word. I stop and examine what I am saying; check out my motivation. For instance in this case….Am I really interested in the field of dentistry? Or, am I saying what my Dad wants to hear? At that time in my life and for many years afterward, my priority was pleasing everyone if I could. I definitely got it right that night. My Dads face was aglow. Somewhere along the way I must have learned what to say to make him happy and get his attention. The, yep that’s my girl, kind of attention. This was the moment the whole dentist thing began….Debbie the dentist. I’m not saying there is anything wrong with dentists or the field of dentistry. It’s just that if you know me at all, you’d be on the floor laughing. I am not a medical type person.

It became common knowledge in our family that I was the "expert” on teeth and ALL things teeth related. I even wiggled and yanked out some teeth other than my own. If ever there was a tooth issue, my mom or dad would say, “Have your sister look at it” I diagnosed a cavity situation one time and it became the defining moment. It was my calling to be a dentist. I don’t know how it happened but the idea took on a life of its own, started snowballing. I kept up with the charade so long and so well that I seriously even started to believe that I wanted to be a dentist. I switched from saying “I should be a dentist” to “I want to be a dentist” In latter years I’d say, “I want to be a dentist but, X,Y,Z” attempting to create some kind of escape hatch. But, it seemed to make my parents, primarily my Dad, so relieved and proud. I didn’t want to disappoint them. None of this was very conscious at the time mind you. It was never a "thought out" plan.

My behavior USED TO be based on the way I felt about myself. The way I felt about myself USED TO be based on how I perceived people felt about me. However, I am changing this now. It isn’t a snap, whizbang overnight project. It is a process. I am learning to trust myself, and to believe that I am enough, just as I am.This is a fundamental requirement to honoring ones truth.

Long after it was clear that I was never going to be a dentist; my Dad would still bring it up. Kind of like this, “Well, there is always dental school you know” It seemed his solution for any problem I encountered; any floundering around I was doing, his answer for just about anything that was going on in my 20’s. God love him. He did the best he could. He felt that school was the answer to everything. Maybe it was the times. If nothing at all, a woman had to be able to type with lightning speed to survive in life. He often told me that the things I loved, like art and music, were only meant to be hobbies. He would always say to me that I could be a “such and such”, and do my art and music as a “side thing" Both of my parents were really big on my pushing most everything I did over to the “side thing” category. What I heard was that I could only be who I truly was in my spare time and maybe on the weekends. Most of the time, I had to be someone else in order to make it in this world.

Whatever I did or said I know now was a desperate attempt to control situations. I was a chameleon, shapeshifting into what someone or some situation called for...or so I thought.....hoping to fit in, to do what I thought I "should" do, to be who I thought I "should" be......I wondered who I was. When I started observing my thoughts in the present, looking at my behavior in the past....piecing it all together....I figured out some plausible reasons why I felt the way I felt and why I did the things I did. Knowledge is power. I don't feel so crazy. Often I say to myself, of course I would feel a certain way, act a certain way based on my history and the information I had at the time. But now, based on new information, things I have learned about myself, I can do things differently. I can Honor My Truth!

Debra Hadraba
Honor Your truth
Inspiration+Action

Does anyone ever use bathroom towels? I know people use towels, but I’m talking about the matching ones hanging on the rods. I was looking at mine today and realized that on April 15th 2009, they will have been hanging there for 9 years. I wash them, but I never use them. I always have a “user friendly” towel hanging on the rod that is by the sink. When I take a bath, I grab a larger towel from the closet and hang it over the curtain rod to dry, or I throw it straight into the laundry basket. This is fine. I live alone. Who cares? The “cute towels” are for company, for show. However, the show is primarily for me.

I really don’t have people over very often. I have been known to describe myself as a reclusive extrovert. I’m outgoing, outside….innergoing, inside. Hey, I made up a word!…innergoing v. the act of moving ones energy from outward or “other focused” to inward and in focus(connecting to oneself and to ones God) When I do have people over, I have a lot of people over and it’s usually for a big meal. Enchiladas, I make a mean enchilada, ask my friends. Occasionally someone stops by, but not that often and they usually don’t see my “cute towels” Why do I have them?

It could be viewed as self-care. I deserve to have a nice house and nice stuff that I like. I can have it just the way I want it. I love having my house clean, organized and cool looking. Maybe I am partially procrastinating, but I need to have my house clean in order to think. If I'm stuck, I clean. As much as it could be procrastination, it is also a grounding process for me. I love windex. I don’t use it for everything like the father in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”. He uses it for zits. That word really bugs me…zits….I don’t know why, but it bugs me. I use windex solely as a cleaning product, not a facial care system. I also love the results of a vacuum, putting things away, and new sheets on the bed. If I need a quick fix, I'll clean out a closet. Really quick, it’s a drawer.

Now this may sound really weird, but cleaning is a form of meditation for me. I don’t do the cross your legs on a pillow and quiet yourself method. I have tried. This may change, but for now, it is a discipline I don’t possess. I’m told it is normal to feel anxious, bored, distracted. One is to keep redirecting their thoughts back to the breath, and it becomes more effortless over time. I lack the desire to commit to the practice. Besides walking, which is also meditation for me, cleaning can naturally ease me into a relaxed rhythm of breathing. I can empty my mind…..wash, wipe and white-out…….it is like white-out for the brain. Clearing out the chatter in my head, the noise, the “old tapes” if you will. My mind isn’t trying to solve a challenge, make a decision or come up with an idea. However, that is exactly what may occur without my trying so hard. I am in the moment. When I am finished and the candles are burning, not only do I feel more grounded and centered, my house is clean.

Back to the towels…

It could also be viewed as perfectionism. If having the towels messed up ruins your day, if you have to straighten the towels every time a guest uses them, then possibly this is the case. I have compromised. I have been called a “neat freak” but I accept my neatness. It works for me. I also accept that I cannot “do it all” and sometimes the towels just aren’t a priority. I accept the ring on the coffee table. If I can’t decide what to wear and my clothes are strewn on the floor, I am not going to miss the party. I am ok with spontaneity, and as much as possible, I live in the moment. I do understand this particular compulsion. It was easier for me to let that go when I understood it. If I could keep everything externally ok, maybe I could keep everything internally ok. It gave me the illusion of control over that which I can NEVER control……PEOPLE!!!

Have you ever noticed how many variations on towel displaying there are? Towels folded on shelves, individually rolled up and put in baskets, tied with a big bow (clearly for show only), one small one on top of one big one and hanging on a towel rod, beautiful elaborate displays accompanied by some kind of paper towels on the sink intended for “real use”, tied in this funky tricky way that my sister does. I guarantee you there are articles and chapters out there on towel displaying. I just googled it and yes it’s true.

I cannot control the way people display their towels, much less what they say or what they do. People are gonna disappoint us, hurt us, leave us, even if they never intend to. No matter how perfect I might try to be, I could just keep on trying. Perfectionism is impossible and relative to interpretation. For example, towels that are tied with a bow are not my cup of tea. I am not a "bow type" person. I no longer get lost in contrived action, thinking it is sure to give me the result I think I need. I Honor My Truth, and in doing so, the result is perfect whatever it is.

Debra Hadraba
Honor Your Truth
Inspiration+Action

If I decide to leave the house with a wet head today, my hair is gonna freeze. It’s like 20 below outside. If I decide to jump in the bathtub, which is FULL of water, with my hair dryer, I’m gonna fry myself. These decisions, and ones like it, are pretty easy to make. I know what the outcome will be and I can make a decision based on how the outcome will affect me. Thankfully, I don’t think about those too much. Some people say that when they get to the edge of a cliff or something, they feel an urge to jump. I don’t.

I am standing in the bathroom drying my hair. I have a song by the band called “The Clash” in my head, “Should I stay or should I go now…if I go there could be trouble…… if I stay there could be double…come on honey let me know….should I stay or should I go?” Decisions, Decisions, Decisions! I can almost hear my mother saying those words. I am running through the positives, the negatives, the benefits, the consequences, the yin, the yang, every possible angle. It’s not helping. No amount of “figuring it out” ever really does. Primarily because I am not trying to figure out what to do, I am trying to figure out which choice will prevent anything bad from happening or cause something good to happen. What I want is to control the outcome, the future. I go round and round in these crazy circles because, of course, this is impossible.

The decisions that seem to be the most difficult for me, ironically, are the ones that don’t appear to matter that much. They have no apparent good or bad consequence. The inconsequential ones that aren’t heavily tipped one way or the other……like for instance, Should I go to the party or not? I don’t want to miss the party, but I don’t want to get dressed either. If I go, how am I going to feel? If I don’t go, how am I going to feel? I don’t want to be uncomfortable. I don’t want to feel regret. Regret is the worst. Especially, if I could have easily done something, yet chose not to. Regret that I missed whatever it is that I never could have known I would miss. Try as I may, I can never avoid pain entirely.

I have a confession to make….I am a coin flipper. Yes, I flip coins. I am the queen of coin flipping. Queens of coin flipping, flip in a certain way. There are rules. We don’t just flip and go.

Coin Flipping:

I begin with any coin…penny, nickel, whatever. I say “heads go, tails no” because quite often, this is my dilemma, silly and trivial as it may seem. So, I flip…heads go, tails no? I rarely accept the result with any kind of ease. I am usually compelled to then check it with the good ole’ “best out of three” method. I may also debate the legitimacy of anything other than a quarter, even though initially any coin was completely ok. I search the house for a quarter. Find the quarter. Flip again. Flip “best out of three”. If I drop the coin, it doesn’t count. This presents a small problem in terms of time constraints because I can’t catch. I seriously cannot catch. If you are ever present for my coin flipping process, you are apt to see me crawling around on the floor looking for the coin or slamming my foot down on it as it rolls and spins. There is a photo of me trying to get something out from under the dryer with one of those wire cat toys. I was undoubtedly, flipping.

Unless you are a “flip and go” type person, this flipping is an endless search for a sign, a guarantee. Flip and go people make it quick, have fun, don’t care, don’t want to think about it, like to gamble, etc, etc, etc. They really do, flip and go. Queens of Coin Flipping like me,……and this is key….have already made up their mind! WE ALREADY DO KNOW, but the answer is sooooooooooo stuck in our heads, we can’t release it. Up in the head, there exists all the “I shoulds, well maybes, if onlys, and what abouts?” It’s like gluey glue. While initially seeking some kind of relief with this coin flipping process, we have turned over any freedom we do have, the power within us, over to some random coin. No matter how many times we flip, it won’t tell us anything. The answer is in us, not the coin!



When making a decision, I can actually feel the shift from that knowing place deep within me, up and into my head. It could swirl around up there forever if I allow it to. Time may even make the decision for me if it stays up there long enough. I already know the truth. I merely have allowed the truth to travel up into my head where it is bombarded with questions. These questions are just noise, chatter, “old tapes”. I do not have to pay to much attention to them. I am declaring that all queen coin flippers unite!!!!!!! From here on out, we will trust ourselves. We will pause, take a breath and quiet ourselves enough to hear the small still voice inside our hearts. We will not give our power away to some little coin. We will Honor Our Truth!.


Debra Hadraba
Honor Your Truth
Inspiration+Action

I just got back from visiting my family in Chicago. I ate sooooooooooo much. I have a food hangover and my jeans are tight. I had to lie down in the hall to zip them up. My hall is merely a platform of choices, Door #1, #2, or #3? It’s hardly the place for the “jean squeezing” process. I can’t make a habit of this. I have nieces and nephews that keep me well versed in the current slang. What I am dealing with here would be, in no uncertain terms, a “muffin top”. I myself used to love muffin tops…now they have a bad rap by association. There is a Seinfeld episode where they gave all the bottoms to a nearby shelter…which then resulted in a mutiny over the muffin top! We deserve the tops too! Tops too!!! Tops too!!! Well people, I am ready and willing to sequester mine at any time.

This was a very last minute family get together. Since my family handles any and all feelings with food, it was the usual belt busting buffet. I was not aware how many different kinds of pretzels there are….sticks, rings, twists, Bavarian big ones, jalapeño cheese ones, and rods. These salty wonders coupled with the dehydrating aspects of air travel have left me feeling quite “poochy” which, by the way, is not one of those slang words. Unless it begins sweeping the nation, no one will know what you are talking about. It is my word for when I am experiencing that feeling of poochiness and I most certainly am. Pronounced -Poo-chee, and just like it sounds….. it means jello-ee and mushy. You can push it in, but it always pops back out. I am sure I have gained a few pounds. Exactly how much I don’t know, because I do not own a scale. This is my number one dieting tip. Get rid of the scale.

My best friend would highly disagree with me here. Her scale is right inside the bathroom door, and because her bathroom is so small, you practically trip over it. She weighs herself everyday. She has her reasons, which make as much sense to her as mine do to me. Don’t tell her, but I can totally see her point. Don’t tell her, but I think her way might be more “normal”. We both want the other one to concede and say “yah, you’re right” However the truth is that what works for me, may not, and apparently does not, work for her. She is doing just fine. We do not need to validate our individual truth by proving the other wrong. She pisses me off though because she would never say that my way makes any sense at all, but that is one of the things I like about her.

The most important thing is to trust oneself. My therapist has reminded me on numerous occasions, “trust yourself” He cannot say this to just anyone you know. There are those select few for which he cannot recommend this idea. I am not one of them. I have that going for me. Cool. Ok, so anyway, my best friend totally disagrees with me and that’s ok. What a relief!!! We can still be friends!!! I have not weighed myself in years. Where my girlfriend feels that it gives her some control, keeps her “in check”, it makes me a crazy person. This is not for everybody, but letting go of my scale was the single most effective action I took towards freedom. Just like burning your bra in the 70's, I tossed my scale. It was a major turning point towards the end of those yo-yo brain, up down, diet circle cycle days.

Diet by Numbers doesn’t work for me. My weight fluctuates too much. It may go up or down independent of what I have or haven’t eaten on any given day. The numbers are only real in the bigger picture, not the day to day snapshot. If the number was up a pound or 2, I would feel discouraged or even depressed. If the number was down, I might feel elated, only to comedown harder another day. Any or all of these feelings would cause me to head for the Haagen Daaz or starve myself. I allowed the number to direct how I felt and what I did, like some new fangled model of the talking scale. My mom used to have this bright pink pig in the frig. When you opened the door, the pig would oink. She always had a weekly calendar to count calories hanging on the door. Egg-70 but that doesn’t seem right.

Getting on the scale gave me the illusion of control, ironically the scale ended up controlling me. It sounds like some freaky Stephen King movie where the scale comes to life and ends up eating the whole village. I became obsessed with knowing how much I weighed, fearing if I didn’t know, I would lose control. It was awful. Many years ago, I was going on a trip with my famous rock n’ roll boyfriend. And yes, this is all true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. I was in a conundrum. How was I going to weigh myself everyday…..what if I couldn’t get to a scale?? How would I know what to do, how to feel? I packed the scale in my suitcase. As luck would have it, my boyfriend decided we should carry our bags on instead of checking them. We went through security and of course they opened my suitcase….probably wondering what the heck that huge metal thing was. I waited as they opened it. Keep in mind; I am with someone that people are already looking at. The airport guy looks at me holding up the scale and says in a voice that would carry all the way to our destination “OH, IT’S SCALE” It was like everything turned to slow motion. He zipped it back in and we went on our way. My boyfriend turned to me and said, “a bathroom scale?” Holy Cats! I wish I had a picture of his face. He was completely puzzled for a second. I just looked at him and without a word we kept walking towards the gate. There is much more to say about that particular boyfriend era, but that’s another story, for another day.

Let me say this here, I just got off a plane. I did not have a scale in my suitcase. I do not know how much I weigh. I do not want to know. I’m just going to be sensible for the next few days. If I eat less and move more, I will more than likely feel better. My best friend is really cool, but her way doesn’t work for me. We can co-exist. We can Honor Our Truth!

Debra Hadraba
Honor Your Truth
Inspiration+Action