Honesty

It's hard to make a practice of being honest, I think. It is for me, anyway. I'm habituated to "protecting" other people from what I really think when there's disagreement or conflict; traditionally, I'm the peacemaker. So for me, it often takes a concerted effort to be really open and honest.

Now, one thing I do know is that it's not necessary or advisable to be completely honest 100% of the time. If we were all completely honest 100% of the time about our opinions, thoughts, and feelings, we'd probably launch Armageddon in very short order. Why? Because our reactions are often completely irrational, and incredibly temporary.

If we 'sit' with our turbulent reactions to the various events of this world, we often find that we calm down, gain perspective, change our minds, and forget about it altogether, even. How many times have you said something you regret in the heat of the moment? Something hurtful and nasty and reactive? Yeah, me too: a lot of times. Now imagine if we just went through our days just like that, without a filter, just escalating and escalating...I'd actually rather not.

So it's good to know how to be honest. It's good to know how to be honest with measures of compassion, actually, because honesty, wielded in certain ways, can be utterly selfish and narcissistic. Although, it can be tough to tell the difference sometimes between compassionate honesty and selfish honesty. And then of course comes the question, "Whose well-being deserves the most consideration right now?" Sometimes the answer is "Mine." 

I digress.

At times, I've royally screwed up in the honesty department on an interpersonal level. I've kept the truth hidden for so long when it really mattered that I laid waste to any semblance of kindness, respect, or decency when it, the now-toxic and distorted Truth, finally came out. On those occasions, the pressure of the truth built up to such an unbearable degree that I couldn't help be anything but selfish. And I've done that a number of times in my life, unfortunately.

I'm responsible for those actions, and I'm sorry for each and every one of them. And the thing is, while it sucked for the other people involved, it sucked far, far worse for me, because I was the one who was ultimately stuck with my mountain of guilt, shame, and confusion. 

What I've learned, then, is that honesty is difficult in practice, especially if you're programmed to make misguided attempts at protecting other people from your opinions, or if you're unsure of yourself, or if you're just plain scared. 

And it is scary.

I think the first time I got really honest for a protracted length of time was in an acting class, interestingly enough (and sadly enough, perhaps). I was 21 years old. I was terrified, because it felt like I was out of control. And I was out of control, in fact: during one exercise, I blacked out, punched a wall, and split my hand open. Awesome, right? (Not so much.)

I'll tell you what, though: as I got better at being honest, and practiced it with compassion, I steadily felt a psychological weight lift from me. I was free, confident, and happy to an altogether new and far-reaching extent.

It seems that my well-being is in direct proportion to the quality of my honesty practice: the better I am at being honest, the better I feel and function -- not just for myself, but for other people, too. Conversely, many of the troubles of my adult life can be traced back, at least in part, to how honest I was being.

I'm telling you all this, folks, because although honesty is difficult for many of us, it is worth it. It is freedom.