It’s early morning and a steady rain is falling. My Hoka’s are soaked with rain and the water squishes around my toes as my feet strike the pavement. I don’t usually run in the rain — that’s a level of dedication I’m just not up for — but this morning I’m glad it’s raining. Because no one can tell the tears from the raindrops falling down my face.

I keep running and the tears and rain keep falling, sobbing and laughing as reality fully hits me. I’ve just had a God moment. And I witnessed it. And I know it.

Until I started this blog about six months ago, I basically had zero social media presence. What I did have were old, barely-used Twitter and Instagram accounts akin to the Grinch’s mailbox. A Facebook account I killed (although they never really die) years ago mostly because of the late-night, wined-up comments and (oh so much worse) direct messages I sent. I still cringe thinking about it. . .

So, I hadn’t heard of Glennon Doyle and her wildly successful blog, books, and non-profit organization until she popped up on my born-again Instagram account a few months ago.

After following her, an essay she’d written on her blog Momastery, appeared in my feed. The post was moving, wise, and most of all rang with truth. A truth that comes from deep within. A truth that reaches past our ego and all its fears, resentments, and judgments and hits something real. The truth of our being, our soul — Who We Really Are.

I shared the essay on social media and mostly forgot about it . . . mostly.

After that, the name Glennon Doyle kept popping up in my mind at odd times. I’d be out running, doing yoga, or taking a bath, and there she’d be. It became annoying. At one point I said out loud, “Get out of my head, Glennon Doyle! What the hell?”.

During this time I’d become much more intentional about my meditation practice. And I’d been asking God to put the people, experiences, and teachings in my life to help me reach deeper and know (really know) my true Self. I now understand that our primary purpose is not to find a mate, choose a career, build a house and start a family. Those are all secondary. Our purpose is to recover and know our true Self — the Being that lies beneath all our humanness.

Trying to be a better listener and receiver of my prayers, I wondered if God wanted me to learn something from Glennon Doyle. So I thought I’d start with her first book, Carry On, Warrior. Still skeptical though, I didn’t want to spend an Audible credit (those are precious) for her audiobook, so I got on the waitlist from the library. The estimated wait time was about four weeks . . .

The next morning I received a notification from the library that Glennon’s book was available to download! I took that as a sign and downloaded the book, put on my running shoes and headphones, and Glennon and I headed out in the rain for a run.

What I noticed first about her writing is it’s covered in truth and vulnerability. This woman is healing herself and helping others heal through her willingness to be vulnerable and unashamedly tell her truth.

Vulnerability and truth-telling are new to me. They are lessons I need to learn. I’m not talking about truth-telling as simply not lying. I’m referring to acknowledging and sharing the truth deep within ourselves that we choose not to tell because it doesn’t fit the image we want to portray.

Several years ago a woman said to me, “You’re just so perfect.” I recoiled and thought: Oh Lord, if you only knew how fucked up I am. Instead, I only said, “No. I’m not.” And left it at that.

I didn’t say: If you only knew the shame, regret, and guilt I carry around for things I’ve done. Or the bitter resentment and hate I harbor for those that have wronged me. How intimacy and trust are so very hard for me. Or how I yell at my kids, employees, elementary school principals, customer service reps, and anyone else who dares to challenge me. How afraid I am of the rage that’s just below the surface. How I talk about others behind their back so I can feel better about myself. And how I self-medicate with wine to escape and forget all those things for a little while.

No, I didn’t share my truth with that woman and neither one of us gained a single thing.

However, unlike me, Glennon shared her truth. She told anyone that asked she was a recovering bulimic, alcoholic, and problem drug user. That she had issues with sex, anger, and depression. And sometimes felt sad and worried when good things happened to other people. And because she was willing to be vulnerable and share her truth, she helped others connect to theirs.

Deep healing takes place when we allow the light of our Inner Being to shine on the trauma, pain, and shame of our past.

True healing requires vulnerability and truth. This is the lesson I was meant to hear — the answer to my prayer. It wasn’t about Glennon Doyle. She was just the conduit, the vein to the Source, the messenger. It was about what she had already learned and I needed to learn through her. The tears fell on that rainy morning because I knew I had been heard and answered. And I understood what I needed to do with my relationships and writing: be vulnerable and share my truth.

I’ve come a long way from the perfectly disguised deeply flawed woman I used to be. I’m still flawed but no longer disguised. I want to heal and know my True Self. And I want to help others do the same. That’s what we’re all here for. To wake up, heal, learn, and help.

What if we all became brave, risked vulnerability, and owned our truths? What would happen to us, our families, our communities, and our world? I want to know, don’t you? Let’s be brave and find out.