Before I take you back, let me tell you a little about what is going on with me this week. A lot of it is not going to make a lot of sense (as I have yet to explain) but it will give me a place to start...
Tomorrow is another day at work for me. I will rise early and get ready to go to work. The only thing is, it will be difficult, as it always is, to get out of bed. I'll want to get up early-setting my clock for 6:30 a.m. like I do every night before I go to bed. But when 6:30 comes around, I'll hit the snooze button, like I always do, and I'll roll over and go back to sleep.
When I finally do make it to work, I discover that I don't know where to start. There is so much work to be done-and I'm behind as usual. There are at least five to ten messages on my answering machine-parents who want to talk to me about how their children have behaved, teachers informing me of a kid not at school for the entire month, and people wanting to know where their children are and why they have been arrested.
I like my job, but sometimes when the phone rings, I don't want to pick it up. I want to concentrate on all the other things I have to do before I can possibly even attempt to tackle a new task. But inevitably, the loud ring of the phone startles me into the reality that it is part of my job to answer the phone.
Pretty soon, it will be lunchtime. I'll want to go somewhere, get away for my lunch hour, do anything but sit inside in the dungeon where I work that has no windows-but I don't because that will mean I'll have to leave an hour later. Instead, I sit quietly at my desk, munching on whatever I managed to scrape together the night before to bring to work.
I can hear my co-workers talking and laughing down the hall. I want to talk and laugh with them, but there are two obstacles. The first is that I have so much work to do, I fear that spending time talking with them will only prevent me from getting any real work done. And the other obstacle simply is, I don't really feel as though I have a connection with them; sometimes I get the feeling they don't really like me. But then the feeling passes, and I just keep on working.
Pretty soon, the day is over and I gratefully pack my stuff and leave my office much the same as I found it-cluttered with files and odds and ends and tons more work to be done tomorrow. I head up the stairs, finally getting to see light (and see that it is now growing dark outside) and hurry to my car. If I'm lucky, there will be good songs playing on the radio to keep me company on my 40 minute-or so drive home from work. As I drive, my mind wanders to every place you can possibly imagine. I revisit the event of the day, think about the work that must be done tomorrow, and try to hurry home as fast as possible so that I can take Brinkley, my dog, outside before he goes to the bathroom in the house.
I don't want to go back home most of the time-it's cold and empty and I currently live with a roommate who has few morals and even less feelings. But I will talk about him later. I keep thinking, especially lately, of all the friends I left behind in Oregon.
My thoughts shift to my friend Norma (you) who was my very best friend while I was there. I start to feel as though I have let her down, and I am ashamed. I look back on how we used to watch Friends every night, eat ice cream, and laugh about the antics of our days. Times seemed simpler, easier then. Everything seemed all right and so great-before I journeyed off to college. And that, it seems, is where I left myself. Somewhere in the halls of the dorms or perhaps the classrooms, the Sarah that you might remember still stays there, trying to find herself. But it is a journey I would like to take you on. Perhaps together, we can discover what happened and where she went.
I loved my college. It made me feel so important and special that I could attend a college as prestigious and great as Pacific University. My opportunity to live in the dorm was like embarking on an adventure that I had never even dreamed of before. I would be surrounded by people, and for the first time in my life, could do whatever it was I wanted.
My first roommate, Faith, was the kind of roommate we don't want to remember. She had mousy brown hair and a sort of drawn face that made you think that she frowned a lot and her face had stayed that way. She complained about everything. She rearranged her bed to hide the microwave from the Resident Assistant. Her boyfriend was named "Christoper" but he went by the name "Topher." He was enormously tall and had stinky feet. Inevitably, the disgusting smell would find its way to my bed at night and prevent me from sleeping well. Worse, they both snored so loudly, it felt as if an earthquake happened every couple of minutes. I found it especially ironic that Kathy visited not too long after I first moved in-and Faith was away at her parents house. Well, Kathy had this habit of wearing shoes without socks and the wet weather made her old shoes smell obnoxious. So she came and spent the night and wearing a different pair, we came back to my room to discover it smelled like rotten things in my room. So someone got the genius idea to wrap up the shoes in Faith's blanket. I laughed until I cried when Faith casually noted her blanket smelled bad upon her return. I suggested that Topher had "struck again" and never told her the truth.
During this time, I wasn't sure how to make friends. Growing up in a small town caused the inevitable to happen: you have automatic friends because you see every one of your classmates so often. The people you grow up with end up being your friends. At college, there were so many different people, I didn't really know where to start.
A girl named Jodi lived down the hall and her roommate (whose name I can't remember) was obnoxious. Jodi was from Alaska, the state where the male population supposedly outnumbers the female population by 5 to 1 (although Jodi would argue that it was untrue). She was independent, fun-loving, and loved Pepsi. She had quite a collection of cans in her room. Oh, and she loved frogs too. She was short and athletic and had dark skin and eyes; she was very beautiful to me. I liked her instantly.
Another girl, Emma, lived upstairs with a roommate I cannot recall. Somehow, I befriended a girl named "Melissa" whom Emma introduced me to. Emma was trying to be in a sorority "Theta Nu Alpha" and it seemed cool to me, so I asked to try out for it too.
Emma was loud and obnoxious and her nickname was "squeaky" because of the way she squeaked about everything. Everything about her was larger than life. She was a big girl, yet skinny in a strange way that I didn't understand. She was from Reno, Nevada. There were problems with her and her mother and she had a really big anger problem. But underneath it all, Emma was a wonderful, genuine girl.
So we tried out for Theta Nu Alphas together. Of course they said that hazing was illegal, but they made us do it anyway. We had to do stupid stuff all week (I can't remember exactly what now) and it all culminated to a late night trip to Safeway blindfolded and ending at the bathroom where we were supposed to touch "poo" in the toilet (still blindfolded) as a measure of trust. But all it really was was a banana and chocolate sauce. You supposedly got extra points if you ate it. I knew the trick in advance (my friend had clued me in) and still refused to eat the banana. Ewwww…. It was in the toilet after all.
Meanwhile, Faith (my roommate) became more and more obnoxious. She made demands and let Topher sleep over every single night. I wasn't opposed to her having a boyfriend, but why they couldn't sleep in his room was beyond me.
So Emma and I decided to become roommates. She had slowly become a really good friend. And the some of the "sisters" in the sorority Alice and Eliza, were really amazing people.
Part of the way I paid for college was to do the "Federal Work Study" program which enables the student to get a job on campus as a way to pay for part of their tuition. My job was to work in the computer lab several nights a week. Boy did I get an easy, awesome deal. All I had to do was sit in the computer lab and answer questions and make sure no one walked off with any computer goods. The only bad part about it was that sometimes I was stuck there late at night during the evenings and weekends when it was the last place I wanted to be.
I remember one night, a few of my sorority friends camed and "rescued" me shortly before midnight. Alice drove up in her car toting Emma and Eliza and they wanted to get away they said and couldn't leave without me.
The four of us quickly became the best of friends. Alice was the nerd in the group-if you could even call her that. She was short and chunky with dark hair and giant old-lady glasses that were reminiscent of a style that died in the seventies. But she wore them proudly; she was like the mother of the group. She was really smart, loved theater, and was from Arkansas. She came to Pacific University on a free ride; her father worked as the head of campus maintenance. Eliza, whom I grew to respect immeasurably, was tall and thin and had short dark hair that contrasted her milky white skin. She was wild and wacky and always had an opinion on everything. You'd swear there was always a cigarette somewhere nearby because she loved to smoke. It was her thing. She represented to me the sort of wild, unbridled freedom that I always envied.
For a while, it felt like I was on top of the world. We'd go out, the four of us, and sing crazy "Friends" theme songs or whatever. We'd go to Shari's at unimaginable hours just for something to do. We would sit and laugh and make friends with the waitresses who knew us all by first name.
We loved Shari's and The Olive Garden. But things, like time, has a way of changing.
But that story I will share with you another time.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Winds of Change
Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow share their dreams
With you and me
Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream
away in the wind of change--The Scorpions
If you typically asked a person whether or not they liked change, I wonder if the majority would say they like change, or whether or not they prefer things that are stable, routine.
I think most of us like to think we like change. When one politician gets into office and does a poor job, we can't wait to see what the next new person can bring to the table. We can't wait for the change. Sometimes, their term of office seems too long to wait.
I think that we have become such an impatient society that we want others to think that we like change, when in reality, change is difficult.
Change is difficult. Change can't happen overnight. This has been said so often, we cannot forget it. It seems as though adults have a less easier time adapting to change because, I think as we get older, we get more settled into routines that we are comfortable with. Once happy with an everyday adventure, as we age, we begin to prioritize our lives and our time differently. I think that we begin to see time as something we don't have enough of. We rush to have others change, but are slow to change ourselves.
In relationships, some people want to see a change in their partner... but when a change is made, they do not know how to deal with it-because they had become accustomed to the way things used to be as opposed to the way things are.
We want change, we bring about change, but then fight it when it comes around. The couples, it seems to me, who make it-are the ones who adapt to change well and who understand that process.
The question then becomes how to adapt to change when the last thing we want is for things to change. It's easier for us when things stay the same because then we don't worry so much or have to do as much work. For example, in my six year relationship, eventually my boyfriend and I settled into a sort of routine that worked for us as a couple. We'd come home and do our own thing, content to share the same space without constantly feeling the need to be tangled up with each other. The problem was, when change came about-it threw our relationship off.
I was laid-off from my job when it was bought out by another company. Suddenly, I had the opportunity (as scary as it was) to change my career and start over again. But I think that S (as I'll call him) was afraid of change, afraid of how it would affect our routine. Instead of being supportive, he became hurtful and mean and made me feel as though he didn't think I could do it. He actually told me that. "I don't think you're going to like it." he said. "I think you won't be able to handle it." It wasn't just about my getting a new job, it was about the changes it would bring about in our relationship.
I think that when things change in a negative way, it's easier to blame someone or some outside influence or source as the reason for why things went wrong. But the truth of it all is, life and the people in it, are constantly changing. If we want to have someone change but then aren't prepared when they do, then perhaps we should find the answers to our questions within ourselves and really figure out why we do not handle change well.
Personally, I don't think I handle change well. I'd like to think that I used to and that I handle it as well as most. As a person who has never really settled down in one spot, I am constantly in flux, constantly unsettled, changing. My roommate changes, situations adjust, feelings change, etc. and instead of always embracing it, there are times when I too get angry. Part of the reason I became so upset after J left was because it forced me out of a comfortable routine, a routine that I coincidentally loved. It forced me to reevaluate my life and do things a little differently. I had to move, had to make new friends, had to start over. That was a whole lot of change almost overnight.
Part of the reason I feel that some of us get over lost loves slower than others is because I think a part of us is still attached to that routine, to feeling loved, feeling safe, feeling secure in the routine.
I know that I don't always handle change well and it becomes more difficult to adjust to as I get older. In fact, as one ages, I think life beckons us to slow down and change less. We begin to place more emphasis on families, and watching the next generation grow, and place less emphasis on ourselves. Suddenly, change is reserved for those younger and those starting their lives with that same sense of adventure and curiosity that drove us as children.
Today, I realized that one of the driving forces that makes me happy to get out of bed every day knowing that I am going to deal with crappy, cranky, unhappy children in an attempt to fix their lives is because this: since I am no longer able to change as quickly or like it as much, I cannot help but be drawn to those who do or can.
To see the light go on in someone else's heart as they make a realization and make a complete change is so rare, that it feels like a miracle when it happens. It is that miracle that I think parents love witnessing in their children. For example, a child realizes they like horses and so they change. Suddenly a room that was full of Winnie the Pooh is replaced by "My Little Pony" and pictures of wild, dusty places. This change, this enlightenment, is the driving force behind much of what I do.
I see that I have an opportunity, ever so slight, to witness change. To see a child (or teenager) take an opportunity and run with it-really make a positive, healthy change in their life and really realize what it's all about. That sort of self-actualization is so rare in a society that seems to place emphasis on staying the same.
Witnessing the miracle of change makes everything I do worth it. To see a child smile or feel loved or get off drugs, or graduate from high school is a proud moment. To see them realize their full potential is truly an amazing thing. It's truly like witnessing a miracle. How else can you explain a complete change of heart, change of point-of-view, change of a life?
I think that we get angry with change when it doesn't benefit us. But we appreciate change when it brings about what we want. Change is necessary because it helps us grow-even when we don't get what we want. Change helps us be more flexible and helps push us in new directions we had not considered before.
Instead of fearing the journeys we are taking, we should embrace them. But it's easier said than done, I admit. I look at people who are open to change and I look up to them, respect them. When I see someone who's life is in flux, and who deals with it in a positive way, I can't help but appreciate and admire their strength and courage. Those people who flounder and complain with change, truly make me feel that they're not growing and they never will until they see that going in another direction might just be better or more amazing than the path they took to get there.
Meanwhile, I sort of sit back and watch as the people change around me-hoping to see more of these miracles at work, and praying that the ones who can't or won't change will someday see the light. I pray too, that I learn from them, and learn to accept change because like it or not, tomorrow will be different than today, and the winds of change will begin to blow ...
Speaking of which, it reminds me of the song by the Scorpions about the winds of change when the Berlin wall finally went down and brought about a change in Germany. Change can be the thing that breaks down walls and builds up hearts. Let's hope that we never stop changing.
Take me to the magic of the momentOn a glory nightWhere the children of tomorrow share their dreamsWith you and meTake me to the magic of the momentOn a glory nightWhere the children of tomorrow dream awayin the wind of change
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow share their dreams
With you and me
Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream
away in the wind of change--The Scorpions
If you typically asked a person whether or not they liked change, I wonder if the majority would say they like change, or whether or not they prefer things that are stable, routine.
I think most of us like to think we like change. When one politician gets into office and does a poor job, we can't wait to see what the next new person can bring to the table. We can't wait for the change. Sometimes, their term of office seems too long to wait.
I think that we have become such an impatient society that we want others to think that we like change, when in reality, change is difficult.
Change is difficult. Change can't happen overnight. This has been said so often, we cannot forget it. It seems as though adults have a less easier time adapting to change because, I think as we get older, we get more settled into routines that we are comfortable with. Once happy with an everyday adventure, as we age, we begin to prioritize our lives and our time differently. I think that we begin to see time as something we don't have enough of. We rush to have others change, but are slow to change ourselves.
In relationships, some people want to see a change in their partner... but when a change is made, they do not know how to deal with it-because they had become accustomed to the way things used to be as opposed to the way things are.
We want change, we bring about change, but then fight it when it comes around. The couples, it seems to me, who make it-are the ones who adapt to change well and who understand that process.
The question then becomes how to adapt to change when the last thing we want is for things to change. It's easier for us when things stay the same because then we don't worry so much or have to do as much work. For example, in my six year relationship, eventually my boyfriend and I settled into a sort of routine that worked for us as a couple. We'd come home and do our own thing, content to share the same space without constantly feeling the need to be tangled up with each other. The problem was, when change came about-it threw our relationship off.
I was laid-off from my job when it was bought out by another company. Suddenly, I had the opportunity (as scary as it was) to change my career and start over again. But I think that S (as I'll call him) was afraid of change, afraid of how it would affect our routine. Instead of being supportive, he became hurtful and mean and made me feel as though he didn't think I could do it. He actually told me that. "I don't think you're going to like it." he said. "I think you won't be able to handle it." It wasn't just about my getting a new job, it was about the changes it would bring about in our relationship.
I think that when things change in a negative way, it's easier to blame someone or some outside influence or source as the reason for why things went wrong. But the truth of it all is, life and the people in it, are constantly changing. If we want to have someone change but then aren't prepared when they do, then perhaps we should find the answers to our questions within ourselves and really figure out why we do not handle change well.
Personally, I don't think I handle change well. I'd like to think that I used to and that I handle it as well as most. As a person who has never really settled down in one spot, I am constantly in flux, constantly unsettled, changing. My roommate changes, situations adjust, feelings change, etc. and instead of always embracing it, there are times when I too get angry. Part of the reason I became so upset after J left was because it forced me out of a comfortable routine, a routine that I coincidentally loved. It forced me to reevaluate my life and do things a little differently. I had to move, had to make new friends, had to start over. That was a whole lot of change almost overnight.
Part of the reason I feel that some of us get over lost loves slower than others is because I think a part of us is still attached to that routine, to feeling loved, feeling safe, feeling secure in the routine.
I know that I don't always handle change well and it becomes more difficult to adjust to as I get older. In fact, as one ages, I think life beckons us to slow down and change less. We begin to place more emphasis on families, and watching the next generation grow, and place less emphasis on ourselves. Suddenly, change is reserved for those younger and those starting their lives with that same sense of adventure and curiosity that drove us as children.
Today, I realized that one of the driving forces that makes me happy to get out of bed every day knowing that I am going to deal with crappy, cranky, unhappy children in an attempt to fix their lives is because this: since I am no longer able to change as quickly or like it as much, I cannot help but be drawn to those who do or can.
To see the light go on in someone else's heart as they make a realization and make a complete change is so rare, that it feels like a miracle when it happens. It is that miracle that I think parents love witnessing in their children. For example, a child realizes they like horses and so they change. Suddenly a room that was full of Winnie the Pooh is replaced by "My Little Pony" and pictures of wild, dusty places. This change, this enlightenment, is the driving force behind much of what I do.
I see that I have an opportunity, ever so slight, to witness change. To see a child (or teenager) take an opportunity and run with it-really make a positive, healthy change in their life and really realize what it's all about. That sort of self-actualization is so rare in a society that seems to place emphasis on staying the same.
Witnessing the miracle of change makes everything I do worth it. To see a child smile or feel loved or get off drugs, or graduate from high school is a proud moment. To see them realize their full potential is truly an amazing thing. It's truly like witnessing a miracle. How else can you explain a complete change of heart, change of point-of-view, change of a life?
I think that we get angry with change when it doesn't benefit us. But we appreciate change when it brings about what we want. Change is necessary because it helps us grow-even when we don't get what we want. Change helps us be more flexible and helps push us in new directions we had not considered before.
Instead of fearing the journeys we are taking, we should embrace them. But it's easier said than done, I admit. I look at people who are open to change and I look up to them, respect them. When I see someone who's life is in flux, and who deals with it in a positive way, I can't help but appreciate and admire their strength and courage. Those people who flounder and complain with change, truly make me feel that they're not growing and they never will until they see that going in another direction might just be better or more amazing than the path they took to get there.
Meanwhile, I sort of sit back and watch as the people change around me-hoping to see more of these miracles at work, and praying that the ones who can't or won't change will someday see the light. I pray too, that I learn from them, and learn to accept change because like it or not, tomorrow will be different than today, and the winds of change will begin to blow ...
Speaking of which, it reminds me of the song by the Scorpions about the winds of change when the Berlin wall finally went down and brought about a change in Germany. Change can be the thing that breaks down walls and builds up hearts. Let's hope that we never stop changing.
Take me to the magic of the momentOn a glory nightWhere the children of tomorrow share their dreamsWith you and meTake me to the magic of the momentOn a glory nightWhere the children of tomorrow dream awayin the wind of change
Monday, February 05, 2007
The Truth (as I see It)
What a man believes upon grossly insufficient evidence is an index into his desires -- desires of which he himself is often unconscious. If a man is offered a fact which goes against his instincts, he will scrutinize it closely, and unless the evidence is overwhelming, he will refuse to believe it. If, on the other hand, he is offered something which affords a reason for acting in accordance to his instincts, he will accept it even on the slightest evidence. The origin of myths is explained in this way.
--Bertrand Russell
It seems that no one likes to hear the truth. We live in a world where the truth is over-rated and oven down played. Commercials on television portray a world that isn't the truth, but often a world we want it to be-where people are happy and happy endings happen every day. We are encouraged to buy products to make ourselves believe a different sort of truth skewed to our perceptions of what life should be, not what it actually is.
If we actually saw life for what it really is, and faced the truth, many of us couldn't handle it. For that reason, we often expect others to tell us what we want to hear (as in the quote above) because it's easier to believe what we want to hear than the truth.
Now, there's a difference between truth and an opinion. An opinion could be right or wrong-but in the end, it is just an opinion. Even when it comes to sharing opinions, people don't want to hear anything negative.
A lot has changed in my life; I am no longer that little scared girl, constantly afraid of my mother as I once was. But even through my fear, my constant battles, I learned the importance of always telling the truth.
Mark Twain said, "When in doubt, tell the truth." For me, there was no other way to go-because even when I told the truth, Mom didn't believe me. When I lied, she didn't believe me. But more often than not, the truth seemed to make me feel the best. So I just started being honest.
When I went to school, I often told tall tales in my younger years because I wanted acceptance and to be liked. But a situation happened that convinced me that the only way I could avoid trouble was to tell the truth.
The problem is, it's the truth as I see it. This need to be honest, to tell the truth, has carried into my adult life and it has been both a burden and a blessing.
Being honest, even in giving my opinion, is a very delicate matter. The truth of it all is, I should be more cautious sometimes in what I say. In my earnestness to give the truth, I often over-step my bounds as a friend. Worse, sometimes my opinion is wrong. I value knowing people but even my opinion isn't always going to be the way things are or even the way things should be.
I have always sought to give my opinion because I don't think a good friendship or relationship is always built on what a person wants to hear. If we want to hear a bunch of crap, we'll turn on the television. When we turn to our friends, we should want the truth from the people who know us the best.
Henry Ward Beecher says, "It is one of the severest tests of friendship to tell your friend his faults. So to love a man that you cannot bear to see a stain upon him, and to speak painful truth through loving words, that is friendship." While I only intend to bring the my opinion to someone out of love and respect for their friendship, I secrety chastize myself when I go too far.
Today is such a day. My secret heart, the one that feels the things I cannot say, cries out and I fear it's so loud, others will hear it. What I mean to say is, sometimes I have to give people my opinion and it hurts me to say it. Sometimes, there are things I wish I was strong enough to say, but cannot.
There are times when my own personal feelings in a particular situation get in the way of the truth or of my wanting to tell them the truth. I fear I might offend them or worse, tell them the truth so bluntly that I appear insensitive or cruel. These are my friends and while they should not be treated with kid-gloves, they are my friends, people whom I've come to know and love. When I see them hurting, I know that they don't want to hear the truth-they want to hear that everything is going to be all right.
When my friends have made a difficult decision, they want to be assured that it was the right one-even when it comes with a cost.
I think it's ultimately important to me that other people know the great struggle that occurs when I actually give them the truth as I see it. I don't say it to be hurtful or mean and I don't consider myself anyone. Who am I? I'm just a friend who cares. But I have feelings.
Sometimes, wanting to say the truth should negate those feelings. Telling my friend who's struggling in a relationship that everything is going to be all right when I don't believe it will be is like lying. I care because they're my friend and I want them to be happy. But I sometimes feel as though I have to hide those feelings instead of telling my friends the truth.
Benjamin Disraeli says, "Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth." I share with people how I feel so that their lives will be better. I share the truth of how I feel so that they will do the same with me. If I lie to you about how I feel, then what is the point of our friendship? Having someone who is always going to tell you what you want to hear is like having something no more real than a hologram.
Yet, I am not perfect. Sometimes I speak too harshly or I cannot say what I really want to say. Those are the moments when I wonder if I'm truly being a good friend. But in the end, I realize that I'm flawed and I can only try.
I try to give the truth to everyone and sometimes it comes back to bite me later. Perhaps they take it the wrong way or perhaps they don't want my opinion. But I can only aspire to be a better friend by being honest.
I guess the reaosn I bring all this up is because while some view honesty as a gift, I view it as a curse sometimes. When there's someone in my life who I'm interested in, for example, I think I expect myself to be honest. Being honest would mean admitting to them (and to myself?) that I like them. It would mean putting it all out there, risking getting rejected, just in my earnest attempt at honesty. The moment comes, and then it passes. Somehow my mouth doesn't utter any words of that truth. I think when that moment passes, it's as if the guy understands. It's as if a golden opportunity has come and gone.
So to give an example, there's someone I've liked for quite a while. No point in giving names, except I'll give him a letter R. We have technically known each other for a couple of years. When we're around each other, he'll ask my opinion about someone and I'll tell him. But when that moment comes to be bold and flirty, I back away. I want to tell him the truth, but I can't. So a couple of months ago, it seemed like the opportunity came around again, and I said nothing. And now, he doesn't really talk to me anymore. He'll call me when he wants my opinion, my truth on something, but it's as if the chasm between us widens with each step. Why is it that I can be so honest with everyone except those I really care about?
I want to tell them how wonderful they are, but accidentally, inevitably, tell them the complete opposite. I think that, having observed my honesty, my outgoing personality, that they assume that if I liked them, I'd make some type of overt move, some type of statement such as, "I like you." But in the end, my fear comes out and my honesty is restricted to everyone else.
Worse, I have even felt as though I've helped certain relationships grow stronger when I personally felt as though it wouldn't work in the end. I don't even know how to explain that. It's almost as if I am so shy, I'd rather help a guy find someone great even when my secret heart won't admit that I like him.
One time, I helped a guy friend of mine (who I guess I really liked) find a girl whom he ended up almost marrying. When he'd ask my opinion about things, I wanted to tell him the truth which was, "I like you and would treat you better than that." But the truth never slipped out. What came instead was, "I'll help you with that."
I think it all goes back to the fact that we'd rather not hear the truth. I think I want to hear the truth, but I am not so sure that I want to hear that familiar sound of rejection, of admitting that someone doesn't see the potential in me. Instead, I play the part of the ever vigilant friend. Being a friend is much easier than being rejected. I guess the truth is, I don't want to hear the truth. I don't want to hear that I'm not pretty enough, thin enough, or good enough in some other way. So I'd rather just be a friend, accepted, trusted so that I get to enjoy their company that way.
As far as my friends are concerned, I tell them the truth because I love them and because even when it's hard for me to hear the truth, I still need to know it. Because knowing the truth of how someone feels might make me a better person, might make me realize things about myself that I want to change, might make me grow.
And as for me, someday, I'm hoping that someone will see the truth in me. Perhaps in seeking the truth, we'll both find our paths lie together. They will give me the honest truth, and will see the truth in me-and my fears will be unimportant because the truth will shine through. They'll see love in my expressions, and even when I completely mess it up (which is probably pretty often) they'll still love me. Even when I can't tell them I care about them, because I'm too afraid of rejection, they'll see the truth of my heart underneath.
Perhaps what we all need is a little more honesty, a little more truth. But that requires respect for one another and unconditional love. But don't take my word for it. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant."Unarmed truth simply means truth without harm. I aspire to bring truth without harm. Becuase the truth, even when difficult to hear and rejected, is stronger than a lie. And the truth, as I see it, is that we all deserve to be loved. We deserve love from our relationships and our friends. Even if that means we don't always get to hear what we want to.
--Bertrand Russell
It seems that no one likes to hear the truth. We live in a world where the truth is over-rated and oven down played. Commercials on television portray a world that isn't the truth, but often a world we want it to be-where people are happy and happy endings happen every day. We are encouraged to buy products to make ourselves believe a different sort of truth skewed to our perceptions of what life should be, not what it actually is.
If we actually saw life for what it really is, and faced the truth, many of us couldn't handle it. For that reason, we often expect others to tell us what we want to hear (as in the quote above) because it's easier to believe what we want to hear than the truth.
Now, there's a difference between truth and an opinion. An opinion could be right or wrong-but in the end, it is just an opinion. Even when it comes to sharing opinions, people don't want to hear anything negative.
A lot has changed in my life; I am no longer that little scared girl, constantly afraid of my mother as I once was. But even through my fear, my constant battles, I learned the importance of always telling the truth.
Mark Twain said, "When in doubt, tell the truth." For me, there was no other way to go-because even when I told the truth, Mom didn't believe me. When I lied, she didn't believe me. But more often than not, the truth seemed to make me feel the best. So I just started being honest.
When I went to school, I often told tall tales in my younger years because I wanted acceptance and to be liked. But a situation happened that convinced me that the only way I could avoid trouble was to tell the truth.
The problem is, it's the truth as I see it. This need to be honest, to tell the truth, has carried into my adult life and it has been both a burden and a blessing.
Being honest, even in giving my opinion, is a very delicate matter. The truth of it all is, I should be more cautious sometimes in what I say. In my earnestness to give the truth, I often over-step my bounds as a friend. Worse, sometimes my opinion is wrong. I value knowing people but even my opinion isn't always going to be the way things are or even the way things should be.
I have always sought to give my opinion because I don't think a good friendship or relationship is always built on what a person wants to hear. If we want to hear a bunch of crap, we'll turn on the television. When we turn to our friends, we should want the truth from the people who know us the best.
Henry Ward Beecher says, "It is one of the severest tests of friendship to tell your friend his faults. So to love a man that you cannot bear to see a stain upon him, and to speak painful truth through loving words, that is friendship." While I only intend to bring the my opinion to someone out of love and respect for their friendship, I secrety chastize myself when I go too far.
Today is such a day. My secret heart, the one that feels the things I cannot say, cries out and I fear it's so loud, others will hear it. What I mean to say is, sometimes I have to give people my opinion and it hurts me to say it. Sometimes, there are things I wish I was strong enough to say, but cannot.
There are times when my own personal feelings in a particular situation get in the way of the truth or of my wanting to tell them the truth. I fear I might offend them or worse, tell them the truth so bluntly that I appear insensitive or cruel. These are my friends and while they should not be treated with kid-gloves, they are my friends, people whom I've come to know and love. When I see them hurting, I know that they don't want to hear the truth-they want to hear that everything is going to be all right.
When my friends have made a difficult decision, they want to be assured that it was the right one-even when it comes with a cost.
I think it's ultimately important to me that other people know the great struggle that occurs when I actually give them the truth as I see it. I don't say it to be hurtful or mean and I don't consider myself anyone. Who am I? I'm just a friend who cares. But I have feelings.
Sometimes, wanting to say the truth should negate those feelings. Telling my friend who's struggling in a relationship that everything is going to be all right when I don't believe it will be is like lying. I care because they're my friend and I want them to be happy. But I sometimes feel as though I have to hide those feelings instead of telling my friends the truth.
Benjamin Disraeli says, "Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth." I share with people how I feel so that their lives will be better. I share the truth of how I feel so that they will do the same with me. If I lie to you about how I feel, then what is the point of our friendship? Having someone who is always going to tell you what you want to hear is like having something no more real than a hologram.
Yet, I am not perfect. Sometimes I speak too harshly or I cannot say what I really want to say. Those are the moments when I wonder if I'm truly being a good friend. But in the end, I realize that I'm flawed and I can only try.
I try to give the truth to everyone and sometimes it comes back to bite me later. Perhaps they take it the wrong way or perhaps they don't want my opinion. But I can only aspire to be a better friend by being honest.
I guess the reaosn I bring all this up is because while some view honesty as a gift, I view it as a curse sometimes. When there's someone in my life who I'm interested in, for example, I think I expect myself to be honest. Being honest would mean admitting to them (and to myself?) that I like them. It would mean putting it all out there, risking getting rejected, just in my earnest attempt at honesty. The moment comes, and then it passes. Somehow my mouth doesn't utter any words of that truth. I think when that moment passes, it's as if the guy understands. It's as if a golden opportunity has come and gone.
So to give an example, there's someone I've liked for quite a while. No point in giving names, except I'll give him a letter R. We have technically known each other for a couple of years. When we're around each other, he'll ask my opinion about someone and I'll tell him. But when that moment comes to be bold and flirty, I back away. I want to tell him the truth, but I can't. So a couple of months ago, it seemed like the opportunity came around again, and I said nothing. And now, he doesn't really talk to me anymore. He'll call me when he wants my opinion, my truth on something, but it's as if the chasm between us widens with each step. Why is it that I can be so honest with everyone except those I really care about?
I want to tell them how wonderful they are, but accidentally, inevitably, tell them the complete opposite. I think that, having observed my honesty, my outgoing personality, that they assume that if I liked them, I'd make some type of overt move, some type of statement such as, "I like you." But in the end, my fear comes out and my honesty is restricted to everyone else.
Worse, I have even felt as though I've helped certain relationships grow stronger when I personally felt as though it wouldn't work in the end. I don't even know how to explain that. It's almost as if I am so shy, I'd rather help a guy find someone great even when my secret heart won't admit that I like him.
One time, I helped a guy friend of mine (who I guess I really liked) find a girl whom he ended up almost marrying. When he'd ask my opinion about things, I wanted to tell him the truth which was, "I like you and would treat you better than that." But the truth never slipped out. What came instead was, "I'll help you with that."
I think it all goes back to the fact that we'd rather not hear the truth. I think I want to hear the truth, but I am not so sure that I want to hear that familiar sound of rejection, of admitting that someone doesn't see the potential in me. Instead, I play the part of the ever vigilant friend. Being a friend is much easier than being rejected. I guess the truth is, I don't want to hear the truth. I don't want to hear that I'm not pretty enough, thin enough, or good enough in some other way. So I'd rather just be a friend, accepted, trusted so that I get to enjoy their company that way.
As far as my friends are concerned, I tell them the truth because I love them and because even when it's hard for me to hear the truth, I still need to know it. Because knowing the truth of how someone feels might make me a better person, might make me realize things about myself that I want to change, might make me grow.
And as for me, someday, I'm hoping that someone will see the truth in me. Perhaps in seeking the truth, we'll both find our paths lie together. They will give me the honest truth, and will see the truth in me-and my fears will be unimportant because the truth will shine through. They'll see love in my expressions, and even when I completely mess it up (which is probably pretty often) they'll still love me. Even when I can't tell them I care about them, because I'm too afraid of rejection, they'll see the truth of my heart underneath.
Perhaps what we all need is a little more honesty, a little more truth. But that requires respect for one another and unconditional love. But don't take my word for it. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant."Unarmed truth simply means truth without harm. I aspire to bring truth without harm. Becuase the truth, even when difficult to hear and rejected, is stronger than a lie. And the truth, as I see it, is that we all deserve to be loved. We deserve love from our relationships and our friends. Even if that means we don't always get to hear what we want to.
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