The framework of my very existence growing up was a lie, artfully constructed and deviously reinforced in order to mitigate someone else’s shame. This has had long-lasting affects on my ability to trust, not for lack of trying. I am hyper vigilant, perpetually looking for holes in people’s stories and for threats that may or may not exist.

When I came to terms with the fact that those behaviors weren’t working for me, I had to do two things: 1.) take a thorough look at how honest I really am with the ones I love and myself, and 2.) decide if I was going to disassociate with every person who ever lied to me which, in essence, would lead to a lonely, solitary existence. I came to realize my own propensity to lie and decided to choose attachment over DQs.

I still assert that I’ll choose the pain of the truth over attempts by others to protect me from my own emotions by lying. At least then I have accurate information to make decisions with. And those decisions may very well include, “Given all of the facts, I’d rather not have that person in my life.” I can’t promise that the truth will come with zero changes to my behavior, but I do feel somewhat entitled to knowing where I am in space as far as my interpersonal relationships go.

However, I’ve also learned to let go of my zero tolerance policy and to ask for what I need which, from the people closest to me, is an honest attempt at transparency. When my people choose to tell me the truth because they know how important it is to me, in spite of negative emotions it could produce in both of us, I may feel pain or sadness, but I also feel trusted, whole, and loved.

Mama, writer, lover, fighter — I wear my heart on my sleeve because my pants pockets are too small.

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