I once advised a friend to do the thing that thing that terrified me. She wondered why she had been rejected and I suggested that maybe she just ask. She looked right at me (like I was a loon) and said that she couldn’t because she knew that the person would lie to her face. She explained that in their hearts, most people are entirely self-preserving and so they lie. Sure, they might lie to protect others’ feelings, but more often than not, they are dishonest as a way to avoid challenging conversations.
She also asked what the point was of attempting to have such a conversation. She claimed to already know why he rejected her and felt very confident that he would not be forthcoming, and thus, the suggested interaction seemed wasteful and even a little dangerous.
At the time I agreed with her. I heard what she was saying and it made sense. I hesitated in that exact situation for a similar reason. I felt confident that the man I was addressing would not tell me why it wasn’t me who he chose. To be fair, people sometimes don’t really know why in a pinpointed sort of way. It can be a very general sort of feeling. But also, he might be fearful of hurting my feelings and facing whatever came of such a reaction. Would I cry? Would I be angry? Would I dispute his notions so as to fix the thing that broke the possibility of us?
We’ve all been there, no? Messy, sloppy tears. An exasperated and pissed off ‘well, I wish you would have told me sooner instead of being such an asshole.’ Or, someone says distance is too much and we explain all the ways in which we can rectify the distance. Someone says that we aren’t patient enough or compassionate enough and we describe in great detail the ways in which we believe we have been or could be or will be.
I mean how could we really expect another human to look at us and tell us something that would likely result in extreme distress? That is contrary to the way in which we interact as humans. For most of us, we operate in accordance with a dedication to easy peasy. We want smooth sailing. When things are upsetting or traumatic, we ignore them, quell them, or make them go away in the most expedient fashion possible. We don’t dig in and get to the root of them all. We don’t move through discomfort to get to comfort. We look for detours and alternative routes. We sanitize. Every. Single. Time.
Well, for me, this has become something of a past tense issue. I don’t have a policy of scorching the earth or making people uncomfortable. I don’t, but I’m also not interested in sitting in a pile of upset so that everything around me remains as neutral as possible. I can’t stomach the notion that I have ALL the people around me, but I have dishonest relationships with each and every one of those people. I am only the person who they need me to be and not who I actually am.
You know when you feel a thing and you go to text about it and then you pause? Maybe you draft it and delete it and then draft it again, and then delete it again? Maybe you’ve copied and pasted those sentiments into your phone notes to be used at a later date, with the later date being never? Maybe you speak a quarter of your truth and see what response it provokes and then mount a full-scale retreat when you sense that things might not go well?
If you’ve been around me or this blog before, you know that was me. That was me for a very long time. I was afraid of my own shadow. I was afraid of losing people. I was bold and brave at one point in my life and then I was so hurt and rejected that I forgot how to find my courage. I questioned my loyalty, my intelligence, my physical attractiveness, my ability to cultivate a healthy relationship, and my friendship. I lost so much that I decided I would never lose again. I would hold onto everything so as to not risk further loss. Even if the things I was holding onto didn’t really serve me, I would keep them close and weather the storm. I would be the victor because I would have stood unwavering and held fast. I would be cool with everything and upset with nothing. I would never make people squirm with my truth because that truth would be mine and mine alone. I would give myself an ulcer by stuffing every emotion I had as deep inside me as they would go but I would take Tums galore. I would test the very limits of my Mary Poppins heart and soul by continuously filling it with all of my unspoken words and unexpressed sentiments. I would feel fake and invisible, but also easy.
Want to know the most insane part? I was still scared. I sacrificed so much. I gave up so much of who I was and what I needed and how I felt, and I was still terrified of losing. I was white-knuckle grasping to every relationship I had. I WOULD be the person who someone could say ‘she was there through thick or thin’ or ‘no matter what I put her through, she never left my side.’ For that I felt proud and contented. But I didn’t. Not really. I just felt scared and sad. Oh, and lonely. I wasn’t loved, I was used. I wasn’t satisfied, I was settling. I wasn’t strong, I was unreachable.
For all my friendships and relationships, I had put up a wall so high and so thick that no one really got close to my heart. I didn’t let people see how they really hurt me. I felt it but I didn’t share it. If I didn’t share it, I wouldn’t lose. Ever. This was my thought process. These were my mistakes. This was my most profound life lesson to date. I needed to be leveled to decide that there was a different way. And I was. A few times. Some that I’ve described here, to and for you, and some that we haven’t gotten to yet. I decided two years ago to speak my truth and I’ve been on that journey ever since. I fail. Often. I falter. I second-guess. I fuck up. I take too long, wait too longer. However, I end up back here, committed to a life of honesty. I may not perfectly express that honesty right now, but I sure as shit don’t hide it. And when I need to walk away, I do it. Sometimes it’s more like a ramble or a stroll, and sometimes it’s a run, but eventually I find myself moving in the right direction. It’s not really the speed that matters, right? It’s getting there.
Talk to you tomorrow.
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 