Have you ever woken up next to a stranger, near an empty bottle of tequila with a vague recollection of screaming ‘yee-haw’ and then throwing up on them?
Well, neither have I silly. There is something about honesty that can sometimes leave you feeling that way. A little embarrassed. A little humiliated. Naked in the wrong place at the wrong time. And even a little confused. Why should honesty make us confused? Is it because we so rarely are honest? There is a show I used to love, and like the majority of shows I find super interesting, it was short lived. Lie to Me prefaced a story about a group of human lie detectors. They read facial expressions and body language as a science. One man who worked there subscribed to the idea that the only true honesty is radical honesty. He spoke every thought as it occurred to him. To him, that was the only way to be completely honest. That was the initial premise of this blog. Some of my long term followers have encouraged me to keep some secrets to myself, that honesty doesn’t have to be every single thought that occurs to me. I don’t know. I’m torn.
I recently had one of the most honest conversations I’ve ever had in my life. It left me feeling a little like I described earlier, but at the same time, unburdened. And isn’t the way it is with really good sex? Free and thoughtless, pleasurable and ignorant of consequences. Undeniable? The times that I have held back, my words or my passion, are the times that haunt me. Yeah, I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth a lot, but that’s just embarrassing. It doesn’t keep me awake at night nearly as much as when I’d not said something that I wanted to, needed to.
And isn’t peace more important? People are going to love you or hate you if you tell the truth, but at least it’s you. If you never tell the truth, if you never get naked, even if people love you it’s not even you. What a huge failure in life. To never be known.
“I have often regretted my speech, but never my silence;” sorry, not buying it.