Owning Your Story: A Short Reflection with Lola

In this episode of Unapologetically Whole, Lola Dada-Olley shares her personal journey of self-advocacy and wholeness, exploring themes of identity, caregiving, and resilience. Through intimate reflections and powerful storytelling, she encourages listeners to own their stories and advocate for themselves with intention and courage.

Takeaways:

• Your story matters and deserves to be told.
• Self-advocacy is a muscle that grows with use.
• Wholeness is the integration of all parts of your story.
• Perfection is not the goal; wholeness is.
• Guilt can be a barrier to healing.
• Healing begins when you stop negotiating with guilt.
• Self-advocacy starts with small steps like asking for help.
• You are worthy of the life you are building.
• The world needs you whole, not perfect.
• Embrace the journey of self-discovery and growth.

Sound bites:

• Your story matters.
• Self-advocacy is a muscle.
• Wholeness is integration.
• Perfection was never the assignment.
• Guilt is a barrier.
• Healing begins with acceptance.
• Ask for help.
• You are worthy.
• The world needs you whole.
• Embrace your journey.

Chapters:

• Introduction to Unapologetically Whole
•  The Journey of Self-Advocacy
•  Embracing Wholeness
•  Overcoming Guilt and Healing
• Empowerment and Personal Growth

Transcript

Lola Dada-Olley: Welcome to Unapologetically Whole. I'm Lola Dada-Olley, attorney, advocate, storyteller, and lifetime caregiver. This is a space for anyone navigating identity, caregiving, leadership, or the quiet work of becoming. Here, we tell the truth, the beautiful parts, the complicated parts, and the parts we're still learning how to name. Some episodes are intimate reflections. Others are conversations with people whose stories expand our understanding of resilience and wholeness. No matter the format, the heart of this show is the same. To remind you, that your story matters, your voice matters, and you are allowed to be whole without apology. Let's begin.

Lola Dada-Olley: There is a phrase my aunt once told me that quite frankly changed my mindset during a really crucial phase of my life. And she told me after I explained to her what I had been going through and the deep challenges associated with it. And it was the type I was explaining to her, the type of trauma that quite frankly would live with me the remainder of my life, likely in some way shape or form. She let me grieve in front of her, which was its own gift, because at the time I thought I had to be very strong for everyone around me. She let me get a lot of stuff out. And then she looked me dead in my eye and she said, Lola, it's time to act like you went to the store and you bought it. That I bought this portion of my story, this really, this life-changing event. It was time to take ownership of it.

 It was her way of saying, move through the world with intention, like you belong. Move like you deserve to be here. But for a long time before that, I didn't. Not in my body, not in my motherhood, not in my caregiving, not in my purpose. When we first moved to Texas, I was running on fumes. A young mother in a new state watching my youngest child regress before my eyes. I was living on autopilot. And autopilot is a survival tactic, but it also can be a dangerous place for a caregiver. You can function. You can perform. You can show up, but you cannot feel. You cannot always feel. And when you cannot feel, it's hard to heal. You can't. I didn't realize how much I was unraveling until the nightmares started. Nightmares that took me back to the day my daughter Alero was born. The silence in the delivery room. The panic in my chest when I couldn't hear my child's cry. The fear that my voice wouldn't be enough to save us. In those dreams, I was louder, more forceful, even more self-advocating. I demanded the care I needed in a timely way. 

I insisted they check my medical records earlier instead of just assuming they had. I fought for myself in a way I didn't know how to in real time because I made the assumption that I was being seen. I made the assumption that my pain could be seen by others. And every time I woke up, I wondered if I had spoken up sooner. Would things have been different? Would my daughter have gotten more oxygen? Would she have cried when she entered the world? Would I have been spared the blows to my own body as a result? Would I have been spared the guilt that would follow me like a shadow for years? That's the thing about guilt. It convinces you that you can rewrite the past if you just replay it enough times. But guilt is a- And healing begins the moment you stop negotiating with it. One night, after waking up from yet another dream I didn't want to have, I found myself texting my parents and my brother in the middle of the night. I remember it as 2, 3 a.m., talking to them about meconium aspiration and trying to make sense of something that had already happened. Trying to control something that was no longer mine to control. That was the night I realized I was not okay and pretending otherwise was costing me pieces of myself. But here's the truth I didn't know then. Maybe you need to hear today. Self-advocacy is not a personality trait. It is a muscle. 

And like any muscle. It can only grow through use. For me, self-advocacy began in the smallest ways, learning to say I need help, saying I'm overwhelmed, saying I can't carry this alone, saying I deserve rest, saying I deserve joy, saying I deserve to be whole, the good, the bad, sometimes the very ugly, and everything in between. And slowly, I began to act like I went to the store. And I bought this life, not because everything was perfect, but because I finally, finally understood that perfection was never the assignment. Wholeness was. And wholeness is not the absence of pain. It is the integration of it. It is the courage to look at your own story, the beautiful parts, the broken parts, the parts sometimes you desperately wish you could rewrite and say. All of this belongs. This made me. All of this is mine to own, to work through, to fine tune, to be better. As we begin this new year together, I want to invite you into a different kind of self-advocacy. And it's not always the loud kind, and it's definitely not the performative kind, but the quiet, internal kind that whispers. I am worthy of the life I'm now building. Because you are. And because the world needs you whole, not perfect, certainly not always polished, not pretending, but whole. This is the heart of Unapologetically Whole. This is the work. This is the journey. And I'm honored to walk it with you.

 If this message resonated with you, I'd love for you to learn more about me at loladadaoli.com. That's L-O-L-A-D-A-D-A-O-L-L-E-Y.com. You can sign up for my monthly newsletter where I share behind the scenes reflections, updates on my upcoming book of the same name. Unapologetically whole, and I also share ways to connect with me for speaking engagements. And if you haven't already, follow the podcast, share this episode with someone who you think needs it, and check out my conversation from earlier this month with Lisa Hurley, a woman who embodies self-advocacy and self-acceptance in ways that inspire me. Until next time, I'm Lola Dada-Olley. And this is Unapologetically Whole.