The Lies That Protected Me—and the Truth That Set Me Free

If you become a listener of the Call Me Courage Podcast, you will quickly learn that I adore Dr. Brené Brown. As a research professor at the University of Houston, her work on vulnerability, courage, shame, and empathy speaks directly to my soul. Her teachings fit perfectly into my wheelhouse—sharing stories, identifying where courage shows up within them, and offering meaningful takeaways that invite growth and reflection.

One of Brené’s most eye-opening concepts is the idea that we wear armor. Armor, she explains, is what we put on to protect ourselves during tough conversations and painful moments. It’s how we avoid being fully authentic when vulnerability feels unsafe.

When I first heard her describe this, something inside me stopped me cold.

I realized I had grown up wearing armor so well that I didn’t even recognize it anymore. In fact, I realized something even harder to admit: I had grown up to be a liar.

That’s not easy to say—but let me explain.

I was raised in an abusive environment where sharing feelings didn’t feel safe. Vulnerability wasn’t welcomed; it was often punished. Somewhere along the way, I learned that telling the truth could lead to being attacked, dismissed, or hurt even more deeply. So I adapted. I survived.

I became the peacemaker.I used humor and levity to soften painful situations.I told “small lies” to keep the peace.I learned to say what would calm the room rather than what was true in my heart.

At the time, those lies weren’t about manipulation—they were about survival. They were my armor.

As I’ve grown older and done the deep work of healing my self-worth and cultivating inner peace, I’ve slowly begun taking that armor off. And with that, I’ve made a conscious choice: I no longer lie.

Even when it’s uncomfortable.Even when it’s awkward.Even when it might disappoint someone.

If you ask me something, you will get the truth!

That said, I’m still learning. One of the hardest lessons I’m sitting with right now is the idea that silence can also be a form of lying. That’s a tough one for me. Sometimes silence still feels like protection—like necessary armor in moments where honesty might cause harm or chaos. I’m learning to discern the difference between healthy boundaries and old survival patterns.

And that’s really what this journey is about.

So I’ll leave you with this question:

What armor are you wearing? What lies—big or small—have you been telling yourself just to get through life?

There is no judgment here. Armor once served a purpose. It helped us survive. But courage asks us to examine whether it’s still protecting us—or quietly keeping us from living fully, freely, and authentically.

Taking off the armor isn’t easy.But neither is living a life that isn’t truly yours.

And courage, as always, is found right there in the choice.

Remember, Your Strength Lies Within!

Much Love,

Kena🌻