Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Trust and the Truth

I used to lie as often as I told the truth. I went through phases where I told the truth and then phases when I would almost exclusively lie and then again meet somewhere with lies and truths woven together to build the story of me. These lies were lies told to others and to myself so indiscriminately that I am still unraveling those stories apart. 

Small lies, big lies, lies about my name, my upbringing, my work, my life, my heart. Lies hidden under a guise of play acting, pretending something is true, hidden behind a sense of "trying it on." Lies to protect my smaller self. Lies to protect raw, abandoned, hurt, tiny, little bits of me. Lies told for so many reasons, but all untrue, all told to wall in my own living truth, to put that truth away for another day or year, to hide my real self from you and from me. I knew sometimes when I lied, that I would have to reconcile that harm that I sent out-- some days, I knew that I would have to answer to myself for the breaks I made in the energy of what's really real. Some days I did not. 

And while I deeply like the idea of trying something on, before committing to the purchase, I see the lie in my life then, for what it is; deep commitment to dis-honesty, but really, a deep hold in my own fear. 

"A lie would make no sense unless the truth was felt to be dangerous." - Carl Jung

In this work that I'm doing now and over the last few years, I tell the truth. At first it was very hard and exhilarating. I was giddy with it. When truth bits flew out, it was a release of my self into the world. There I am. See me? Giddy. Alive. In small parts. One chunk at a time. 

Then, another shift, when telling the deep truth becomes what's normal, and you are almost telling the truth in every single moment in life. Then, when you do lie, or carve out a mini story (usually in mothering moments where I'm not ready to tell the truth), the lie feels like shards of glass stabbing through my skin. I have to make peace with that lie and usually, then, I vow to tell the truth later. Make a note to readdress as soon as possible. 

Living in truth becomes the norm. Resonating truth in each breath, in each word, each thought, each action. 

This week my honesty was challenged. Challenged in a very new way for me.  I was threatened by someone that I gave a courtesy of trust to. I engaged in a trustful way. Very open and ready for the work to begin. I showed up. I stay present. I did not run.

My truth was telling me to run. To hide. To not show up to begin with. To find a way out. To protect myself and others in the circle. But, I stayed, I fought against my own truth. I was so afraid of falling back into the me that hides and lies and can't sit still, that's when my voice said old words in a new way, I fought. I forgot to listen in. 

What happens to truth when there is no trust? 

Can I hear the same words with new ears? 

Is it ever okay to hide and run? What other ways can I protect myself now? 

How can I hold space for something and someone who rings wrong? 

This made me angry. Anger is my shit. I know that. Reaction is true. Emotion is an indicator of where the pain-points are in this process, journey, life. Resistance is part of the truth, just as acceptance is.  I'm taking in the information now. Coming down from the anger and panic. Moving through to optimism and hopefulness again. Working on trust again. This time the lens is on me. 




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