He looked straight into my eyes with a penetrating, all-knowing look and asserted convincingly, “I can tell if someone is gay.”

It was October 1983. I was 18–years old and in my second week of college. My new friends, Dave and Vince, invited me to have pizza with them just thirty minutes earlier. I jumped at the chance to get to know these two guys – both of whom I had met a week before when I was asked to perform in another friend’s senior music recital of opera scenes. Dave was the conductor, Vince was the lead tenor, and I played the baritone role in a scene from Mozart’s opera Cosi fan tutte (which, ironically, is a romantic comedy that explores deception and betrayal).

We had just finished our second rehearsal when the three of us headed for pizza around 7 pm. During the 20–minute drive to the best pizza place in the area, Vince and Dave started talking about the Wizard of Oz. I love the Wizard of Oz, but I had trouble comprehending their conversation. For example, I remember Dave asking Vince, “Are you a friend of Dorothy?” and Vince replying, “Of course.”

What’s a friend of Dorothy? I silently pondered. Not wanting to appear stupid or not “with it,” I set aside my curiosity and discomfort, and joined in their laughter.

When we arrived at the pizza place and got settled into a booth, Dave asked, “Paul, do you know what we were talking about in the car?”

With that question, it was clear that my attempt to be “one of the boys” didn’t work. Yep. I had been caught, so I admitted, “Well, to be honest, I knew you were talking about the Wizard of Oz and stuff, but I didn’t really understand what you guys were really talking about.”

The waitress interrupted our conversation to take our order. I welcomed the distraction because I was unsure where this conversation was heading.

As soon as the waitress walked away, Dave continued with a brief, but shocking explanation, “Vince and I are gay.” I was mystified. How did we go from The Wizard of Oz to gay?

“The conversation we had in the car,” Dave continued, “was our way of coming out to each other. Saying ‘I’m a friend of Dorothy’ is a way of saying ‘I’m gay.’”

Vince chimed in, “We didn’t mean to leave you out of anything, but on the drive over here Dave and I realized that each of us is gay. We got caught up in coming out to each other.”

There I sat, for the first time in my life, in front of two gay men, gaining a new perspective on the Wizard of Oz. My emotions were like the twister that transported Dorothy from Kansas to Munchkinland. There was a surprising calmness in the center of my emotional storm that was punctuated by the emotional debris swirling around me, cluttered with years of repression, secrecy, and hiding.

I was honored that they trusted me with this information and, more importantly, I had this sudden sense of belonging, which literally scared the hell out of me. This was actually a big moment in my life. The truth was that I was terrified to sit there, but I stayed anyways. God, I thought, what if they think I’m gay?

Vince thanked me for not getting up and scurrying to another table. I acknowledged his appreciation by saying, “I wouldn’t run away like that. I’m pretty open-minded.”

Then came the turning point in the conversation. Dave leaned into the table, looked me squarely in the eyes, and said definitively, “I can tell if someone is gay.”

“Aahhhhh!” I screamed silently. Now I really wanted to run away. But instead, without any hesitation, I muscled my way into the land of courage and blurted out a resounding, “Oh.” That’s it. That’s all I said. Just “Oh.” I did not care to know what he thought of me and I ensured that we did not go down that path.

I looked back into Dave’s eyes, doing my best not to reveal any secrets. Dave continued to stare at me, knowingly, for what felt like an eternity. Neither of us said anything while Vince sat on the sideline observing the whole thing.

Thankfully, the pizza arrived. Dave sat back in his chair, relaxing his intense focus on me. In between pizza bites, I asked my two new “friends of Dorothy” about their lives and what it’s like to be gay. We talked for a while longer and then drove back to campus where we parted company until our next rehearsal.

Reflecting on that night, I stood at the threshold of something huge, scary, and inevitable. For the first time, I realized that I would need to face my own betrayal and deception. That night marked the beginning of a new life for me. It was time for me to come out. [To be continued…]

You don’t have to be gay to relate to “coming out” or feeling threatened by others who might suspect your secret. Consider posting in the Comments here or in your private journal, your answers to the following questions:

· When was a time that you betrayed your own integrity by engaging in deception? What happened? What would you do differently now?

· How do you betray your integrity now? What does it get you? What does it cost you?

In a previous post, I wrote about a situation with my friend, Dee, who asked me the million-dollar question, “Are you invisible right now?” I thought it would be interesting to apply The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom to that situation. Here is the result:

Agreement One – Be impeccable with your word. When Dee asked me, “Are you invisible right now?” my first impulse was to run away from the question and simply deny it – a habituated, shame-oriented response to conflict. Yet, I was able to access the internal resources to speak the truth, to be in a place of integrity, and to answer her question honestly.

Agreement Two – Don’t take anything personally. Her question created a conflict for me, but I saw past the immediate threat and, instead, recognized it as an opportunity to be visible. Even though I took her question personally at first, reframing the situation as an opportunity was a significant shift, which de-personalized it. It brought us both right into the moment and created an honest, authentic connection.

Agreement Three – Don’t make assumptions. When Dee asked me the question, my first reaction was to assume that she could not handle the truth. Fortunately, I didn’t dwell on that assumption. Instead, I gave her the benefit of the doubt that she could handle the answer. While this too is an assumption, it is based on seeing Dee in a positive light rather than perceiving some deficiency within her. By being authentic with Dee, I was letting her know that I trust her and honor her ability to take care of herself.

Agreement Four – Always do your best. I did my best. I know this because my body relaxed and our conversation progressed into much deeper territory than before.

Was there more that I could have done? Absolutely. Was I truly impeccable with my word? Mostly, but I could have been more transparent about the conflict that arose within me as a result of her question. Did I take anything personally? I sure did, but I was able to de-personalize it enough to see the opportunity inherent in the threat. Did I make assumptions? Well, yes, but I quickly overcame the most powerful of them.

A dear friend (I’ll call her Dee) and I agreed to talk by phone this past Saturday morning. From the moment we met nine months ago in a workshop on coaching, we have consistently had intensely personal conversations. But, this day, I was in a funk so I was planning on just giving her a rundown of my Did-Do list from the past two months (since the time we last talked) and hearing what she’s been up to.

I started the conversation by talking about InvisibleLives.com and my recent journey of bringing this blog on line. When it was clear it was time to transition to the next topic, Dee said in her sweetest voice, “I have a question that I hope will be okay to ask you.”

“Of course,” I replied, assuming that she was going to ask me about some aspect of my journey to blogdom.

She courageously and wisely went for the million-dollar question, “Are you invisible right now?”

Not expecting THAT question, I did a silent Homer Simpson “Doh!.” My heart skipped a beat (maybe two), my spine stiffened, and my chest froze.  I momentarily panicked, wondering What do I do now? Do I play it off? Do I confess? Ugh. Here I am talking about being more visible in my life, and I’m playing the invisibility card again. Damn it. I’ve been caught.

I paused for a moment, found my courage, set aside my internal conflict, and made my confession, “Yes. I’m invisible right now.”

Eureka! In that moment, my chest began to melt and my spine began to relax. The uneasiness that had been present in our conversation began to dissipate. The shackles of invisibility and shame began to lift.

Our conversation continued its mystical transformation as Dee held a safe space for me to be real with her and I gave myself permission to be real. We never got back to either of our Did-Do lists. Instead, we talked about our relationship and we savored the intimacy of our conversation for the remainder of our time on the phone.

Dee’s courageous question and my willingness to respond honestly transformed our conversation.

Here are some questions for you to ponder, write about in a journal, or post as a Comment:

• Under what circumstances do you hide your true self?
• What are the signals that you are hiding?
• What does it take for you to come out from behind the veil of invisibility?
• What might happen if you were to ask yourself throughout the day, “Am I being invisible right now?”

My friend, colleague, web designer, and fellow blogger, Brian (check out his personal development blog, DevYou), shared a wonderful quote with me recently that relates directly to the theme of this site. Brian introduced the quote with these words: It was said by John Barlow about Spalding Gray during the period of grieving immediately following Spalding’s suicide:

“Among the beliefs that he and I shared was a conviction that making public the intimately personal is a revolutionary act in an atomized society where many feel compelled to play so close to the chest that they can’t read their own cards. Being emotionally naked before strangers extends to them a permission for self-revelation they badly need if they are to loosen the shackles of their own quiet desperations. It is a blow against the pursuit of loneliness.”

Thank you, Brian.

It was a mid-summer Saturday morning and I was just beginning a new episode of my favorite cartoon, Scooby Doo, when the phone rang. I was the only one inside the house at the moment, so I pulled myself away from Scooby’s latest ghost-hunting adventure to answer it. Even at eight years old, answering the phone still made me nervous, but it was masked by the excitement of discovering who’s on the other end.

“Hello?” I asked in my politest voice.

“Uh…may I speak to Father Bob?” the middle-aged female voice tentatively asked.

Father Bob? Maybe she said may I speak to your father, Bob and I simply misunderstood her emphasis. Yeah, that’s it – I misunderstood her; she meant my father, Bob…not Father Bob.

Returning my focus to the caller and being mindful of my mother’s rules about politeness, I said, “Hold on, please.”

I placed the handset on the kitchen table and walked about six steps to the front door. As I opened it, I cupped my right hand around my mouth and yelled, “Daaa-aaad! Phooo-ooone!”

About thirty seconds later I could hear my father carefully wiping his wet shoes on the mat outside the front door. He came through the door and reached for the phone. In the meantime, I had repositioned myself in front of the television in the adjacent room.

“Hello?” he politely queried. After pausing long enough to hear the caller identify herself, he continued, “Oh, uh…that’s just a kid from the neighborhood.” His reply was matter-of-fact, yet he sounded nervous.

That’s odd¸ I thought. What neighbor kid is he talking about?

Again, after pausing briefly, he added, “Oh. He just likes to call me ‘dad.’”

I tuned out whatever he said after that. I was too shocked to hear anything but my internal voice screaming, WHAT?!? I’m just a neighbor kid? I like to call him dad? What is he talking about? Why is he lying to this woman?

I jumped up and ran down the hallway to my bedroom – my sanctuary for escaping difficult moments like these. I needed the comfort of my bed to appease the confusion and rage that bubbled up. I slammed my door closed and flew onto my bed landing face down on my pillow. I lay there and cried.

A few minutes later, having finished his phone call, the thin walls of our small Las Vegas home shook as my father opened and closed the front door. I lay there for another fifteen minutes, fighting the tears, but with an increasing determination to take action. I began to plot a strategy to confront my father about his lies to the stranger on the phone – to uncover the truth about calling me the neighbor kid. My father was not keen on being questioned, though, so my evolving courage was tempered with uncertainty about proceeding.

Finally, I wiped my eyes dry, and gathered enough courage to make the agonizing journey down the hallway, through the front door, and across the length of the front yard, stopping where my father was casually watering the lawn with the garden hose. I did not look into his eyes at any time, carefully hiding my pain from him and not wanting to notice whatever pain he might be experiencing. He did not look into my eyes either. I simply stood there, next to him, standing no taller than his belly button and saying nothing, just watching him spray the lawn with water.

Following the brief, but interminable silence, accompanied only by the sounds of spraying water and my beating heart, I spit out my question, “Who was that woman?”

“That was my sister,” he said, offering no less and no more. I was aware that he had many siblings, maybe a dozen, most of them living in his home state, Michigan, and having only minimal contact with him, except through an occasional letter.

Setting aside my fear that he would become angry at me for asking him the obvious question, I swallowed hard and asked, “Why did you tell her I am just a neighbor kid?”

“Paul, you’re not old enough to understand. When you’re older, I’ll explain it to you,” he said abruptly.

“When will that be?” I asked with my I-want-to-know-now impatience.

“I told you; when you’re old enough,” he replied, growing increasingly impatient with my curiosity. “For now” he continued, “all you need to know is that my family is not supposed to call me. But, if someone does call again and you don’t know who’s on the phone, just come get me or take a message. Oh, and never call me Dad if you don’t know who the caller is.”

I was stunned. I felt like Scooby Doo or his human pal Freddie, just having seen a ghost. I stood there stiffly for a moment, unsure of what to do next. As I felt my heart sink, I decided to give up my quest. I silently walked back to the house, defeated, but wondering about my father’s secret. Why wouldn’t he tell his sister that his son answered the phone? Is he embarrassed? Is he ashamed of me? What’s going on here?

As I entered the house, I had an eerie sense of skeletons in the closet and ghosts in the attic. My uneasiness deepened as I began to realize that I might somehow be the skeleton in the closet. Is that possible? Why else would he not tell his sister, my aunt, that his son answered the phone?

Having no recourse but to stifle my curiosity for now, I mindlessly returned to watch the final moments of Scooby Doo as he and his friends brought their latest ghost-chasing mystery to a successful conclusion. Maybe, someday, I will bring today’s mystery to a successful conclusion.

In reflecting on this story, what family dynamics squashed your childhood curiosity? What skeletons in the closet related to your feeling invisible? How did you handle those times when you were shut down or your interests were dismissed?

I’m curious to know about YOU, so I invite you to post your reactions as a Comment or, if you prefer privacy, take a few notes in a private journal.

For months I saw it – that little book with the olive-green and red cover – on the product display at Jamba Juice. Each time I visited Jamba, I would pick up the book, briefly thumb through it, put it down, and turn my back on it. Countless times I’d read the book’s sub-title, “A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom,” and dismiss it as nonsense. Or I’d read the inside flap and the back cover, and ignore the curiosity and anxiety that arose within me.

With each visit, though, my intrigue grew and my resistance decreased. Finally, after six months of giving it the cold shoulder, I gave in. I bought it.

For the next three months it sat on my desk and I played a similar cat-and-mouse game: I would briefly pick it up, begin reading the Introduction, and then toss it back on my desk a moment later. I thought it’s just a book for god’s sake and I’m clearly drawn to the subject matter; yet, I am resisting something.

After three months, I packed it in my carry-on bag for a cross-country flight. Moments after settling into my seat, I pulled the book out and read it from cover to cover. Loved it!

The book is Don Miguel’s The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom. It’s about the limiting beliefs we hold, how they interfere with our personal freedom, and how we can offset them by making just four profoundly simple agreements with ourselves: 

1. Be impeccable with your word
2. Don’t take anything personally
3. Don’t make assumptions
4. Always do your best

These four agreements form the antithesis of being invisible. For example, upon reading the book, I discovered why I resisted buying it: I am not always impeccable with my word, I sometimes take things personally, and I constantly make assumptions. This book confronted the beliefs that directly fortify my invisibility and I wasn’t ready to give them up. It’s no wonder I didn’t want to read The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom. 

Is it time to confront your limiting beliefs or to make life-changing agreements with yourself? If so, I encourage you to buy the book, commit to the agreements, and become more visible.  572 people (to date) have posted reviews of this book on Amazon.com, garnering it 4.5 stars out of 5.

I also invite you to take one or more of the following questions and post your response as a Comment or, if you prefer privacy, write your answers in a personal journal:

• What are you turning your back on or resisting that might otherwise lead you to being more visible?
• Like that little book at Jamba Juice, what is constantly calling out to you that you are purposefully ignoring?
• What beliefs have you cultivated that seem to fortify your invisibility? What would letting go of those beliefs give you?
• What would it mean for your life to be impeccable with your word, never to take things personally, never make assumptions, and always do your best?

The person you really are
Is forever waiting
To embrace you with open arms,
Tenderly encouraging,
Free of bias or judgment.

Once you are open to become
This Reality set out before you,
The world may breathe with more ease.

One of life’s great secrets is now before you.

Life’s treasures will open up to us,
By daily allowing fear to move,
Thus freeing up the imprisoning nature
Of shame and guilt.

The more you do this,
The more it will be true for you.

Thought will try to take you away
From practicing this secret.
You will succeed,
Just ask your body where your center is…

I received the poem above from a friend. The only reference given for it is this: Tao te ching; on the Lungs.

My parents and I were tooling around Las Vegas, my home town, in my dad’s new 1970 AMC Hornet on a cool autumn day. My mother was in the passenger’s seat and I had my usual place in the back seat.

We were traveling east on Charleston Boulevard and we were just passing my favorite auto repair shop. Being five years old and a fan of Hot Wheels, the shop’s defining feature is what captured my attention: a full-size, 1960ish German-styled car teetering atop a twenty foot pole that seemed to extend to the clouds. I often wondered how they got that car up there.

As we passed the auto repair shop, my father made a comment about it. I don’t recall exactly what he said – perhaps it was about the car on a pole – but I do recall disagreeing with him.

Not anticipating the consequences, I leaned forward from my seat and blurted my reaction to his comment. I’ll never know if my blurting was improper or if my father was simply enforcing his children-should-be-seen-and-not-heard rule, but he snapped right back, “Don’t contradict me, Paul.”

Ouch! An adrenaline-filled shock wave streamed through my little body. I felt overwhelmed and stunned. I didn’t understand what my father meant by “don’t contradict me,” but it was clear that he was displeased with me. I immediately defended myself with a defensive, but genuine question, “What did I do?”

“Paul,” he repeated sternly, “You know what you did. Do not contradict me.”

Hoping for clarity and reason, I turned to my mom and asked, “Mom, what did I do?”

“Paul, don’t contradict your father,” she said dismissively.

I had reached a roadblock with my parents. I felt like that car on a pole – skewered, hoisted, and isolated from the rest of the world. I was suddenly all alone. I sank back into my seat, feeling confused and angry.

Then, in an instant, my creative mind locked onto a powerful solution. “I know,” I thought to myself. “I’ll never talk again. If they won’t listen to me, then I won’t give them anything to listen to. I’ll show them.” I silently reiterated my determination, “I’ll never talk again.”

Of course, I did talk again. But that experience in the back seat of the Hornet became a defining moment. I began to suppress my thoughts and feelings. I learned not to speak up, not to create controversy, and certainly not to contradict my father. I began the process of moving from childhood vibrancy to emotional numbness. I found comfort in isolation. I had discovered the power of invisibility. I had redefined myself and reshaped the future of my life.

Consider the following questions about your life. Post your response as a Comment or keep your answers in a private journal:

• What childhood experience might have initiated your invisibility?
• What happened and how did you handle it?
• How has that experience reshaped your life?
• How did being invisible protect you from a threatening environment?

For most of my forty-two years, I have been living with a secret - one that’s powerful, insidious, persistent, and painful: I have been masterfully hiding from others and from myself; I have been living in the shadows of my own life; I have been living an invisible life.

There. I said it. My secret is out. I have taken one more step toward living more fully and more authentically in this world.

So, what’s the big deal? I grew up with a keen instinct to hide. It was a form of survival that I discovered and embraced. Now, as an adult, living invisibly has undermined my success and happiness. Like a magnet that’s drawn powerfully to metal, invisibility has drawn me powerfully to isolation, denial, and discomfort. It has steeped me in fear, shame, and resentment. It has underscored my failures and blinded me of my successes. But I don’t need to live this way. I have a choice. I choose to live visibly. Today I publicly declare my invisibility and embrace the healing that comes from awareness, acceptance, commitment to move forward, and a community of support.

I have developed InvisibleLives.com to create hope and opportunity for anyone who feels invisible - to those who quietly live in fear, or hide behind a veneer of humor, controversy, overworking, substance abuse, or social status. Invisible lives come in a rainbow of shapes, colors, and sizes, but we all have one thing in common: a disposition to hide our true selves.

In the past, my invisibility has shown up in many different ways such as not sharing my thoughts and feelings, unnecessarily keeping secrets from people I care about, and encouraging others to talk about themselves while I sat idly on the sidelines pretending to listen but ultimately disengaged.

How does invisibility show up in your life? Reflect on these questions and feel free to post your answers as a Comment, keep a private journal, or simply notice what comes up for you:

• How are you hiding?
• How do you make yourself invisible?
• What’s getting in your way of living a full life?
• What would your life be like if you lived more visibly?
• If you don’t feel invisible, who do you know that does feel invisible? Please let them know about InvisibleLives.com.

My vision for InvisibleLives.com includes this blog, powerful resources that will help others unlock the grip that invisibility has on them, and opportunities to participate in live workshops, teleclasses, and one-on-one coaching. Most of all, InvisibleLives.com is focused on community, support, and growth - all for the purpose of living a visible life. Here we can celebrate our collective journey from invisible to visible.

I welcome you and your future Visible Self to InvisibleLives.com.

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