Ten years ago today I reported to federal prison.

It was day 1 of 730.

Then followed by 3 years of supervised release and an order of restitution.

I would do my time in a prison camp, but I was processed in a medium-security prison, the ones we see on TV, the ones we fear.

Prisons impose themselves on the landscape, carrying weight and foreboding presence.

As I made my way through the facility, I paused to look where I was, and it dawned on me with the crystal clear clarity of the Caribean Sea,

“I’m on the wrong side of the fence.”

The CO escorted me to a single prison cell, and without saying a word, I understood what was expected of me. I didn’t want to, but I lost my voice because of the choices I’d made.

I picked one foot up, followed by the other, and crossed the threshold into the cell, the door slamming behind me with a severe finality.

I watched helplessly as my freedom died.  

I, and I alone, was responsible.

Shame has many levels, and in this moment of extreme responsibility, I discovered a new one.

It’s been ten years, but when called upon, the memory has 20/20 vision.

The memory, my story, this story, and all the stories that arose from my choices used to own me.

The gravitational pull of shame is akin to standing on Jupiter’s surface, crushing and implacable.

I began to understand that if I didn’t learn to own my story, it would own me for the entirety of what’s left of my life.

I’d shrink under its crushing weight, growing smaller every day as my choices flowed through the filter of shame and fear.

I was given one of the greatest gifts that can ever be bestowed on anyone: the chance to begin anew, with perspective earned by some of life’s most challenging lessons.

I didn’t want to lose that second chance; I wanted to break free from shame’s gravitational pull.

I knew I had to own my story and craft my narrative. It’s been a long journey, and I see now it’s a journey with no end until the end.

I’m fortunate to share now my story and lessons learned, whether in writing or on stages worldwide, to serve others.

What I’m scared to share becomes what I must share. Behind each fear is an invaluable lesson.

I’m humbled and grateful this is my life.

What I’ve learned:

• Our past cannot define us without our consent.

• Vulnerability is a gateway to emotional freedom.

• Shame is poison to our self-worth; self-forgiveness is the cure.

You don’t need to go to prison or hit rock bottom to own your story and craft your narrative. Every day is an opportunity to discover what you’re hiding from, the invisible puppet strings that pull your life.

Every day is an opportunity to say, I’m afraid, I’m ashamed, I feel guilty, I feel embarrassed – and to do this without judgment and with grace and compassion.

When we no longer hide from ourselves, we cut those strings and open the door to freedom.

We give ourselves the gift of starting anew with a different perspective.

Besides, how will we ever feel whole and complete if we deny a piece of what makes us, us?

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