Speaking your truth paves a path to change

I've grown in my ability to spot and surrender to confounding human paradoxes; you know, the simultaneous and incongruent feelings that leave us dumbfounded (joy and fear, relief and sadness) and exhausted. Uncomfortable feelings often sprout into honest (if not heated) conversations otherwise left in the vault locked away feeling no particular intention to speak, but simmering in their own silence. Of course, it's always easier to see in others, and coaching people through their dilemmas and growth has given me ample opportunity to add to my own instances. 

The stress of some event likely erupts these brain teasers. Like when Sweetie had to endure that awkward moment when the children, obviously beside themselves with excitement, watched me open their special Christmas gift--a couple months after he bought me the same item. He was silently crushed that I wasn't able to say, "Wow, how cool. Too bad Sweetie bought me one already. How about I trade this in for the speakers I still need?" I was just so excited that they had bought something so meaningful and prideful it never crossed my mind to let them down. Sigh. 

I remember as she deteriorated, my Mom struggled with adapting to new things, and remembering simple ones from the past. Before I surrendered to her Alzheimers, it sometimes made me impatient and short. There were tears mixed with her complaints one Christmas holiday break, "You talk to me as if I'm stupid and worthless," she blurted.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I am your daughter, not your caregiver. I am not a good caregiver."

There was something about those blatant, honest statements that HAVE to be said, are essential to feed our relationships, extract the sting out of "the secret" we harbor, and allow us to go on. We hate sucking up the breath to speak, worry about what others will think, stew about what we assume others can't handle and yet when we actually speak (or are spoken to) it is cathartic.

After our tough, honest words I was more aware and hopefully more sensitive to how I spoke to her. That was a good start. Even Sweetie, once he spoke about his frustration about the gift "pinch," informed me he was fine with me using the kids' gift over his. He just needed to be heard. I needed to hear. Done. No more time spent thinking about, planning or worrying about worst-case scenario. No more energy devoted to assumptions.

The point is that if we have things we are unhappy about but are unwilling or unable to speak them, it takes up brain space, keeps us from living our values (how's that honesty value measuring up), devotes precious time to something other than pursuing our life's work, keeps us in a foggy spin. And there's nothing more tiresome than listening to someone complain over and over about something they are never going to change.

I'm thinking about how much time we could devote to important things if we were able to speak about and put tired old things to rest. Think about what we could do that is REALLY important, something that might stand long after we are gone.

Oh, and a note. When we speak our truth focus on the issue, and the issue is almost NEVER outside ourselves. The issue is inside us. I can't speak to you being a tailgater (the kind that drives too close). Whether or not someone is tailgating is arguable. What I can speak about is the fear I feel when we are close to the car in front of us. The issue is MY discomfort. I need to speak to you about my discomfort respectfully, as if I our relationship is at stake. It always is.