On Honesty

Recently I wrote about how I decided to email/otherwise message guys I had dated to clear the air/say the things I had always wanted to say them but just didn't. (I repeat: I did this without the help of substances such as wine. I know.)

While doing this was not only fun in that holy-shit-this-is-scary-and-probably-a-huge-mistake sort of way, airing what had been trapped in me felt really freeing. Like a huge exhale. Finally.

But why did I even have to send post-humous messages at all? Oh, that's right, because every time I know precisely what I want to say, I either freeze in the moment (a la Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail--LOVE that movie), or I just decide (convince myself) that speaking up is a bad idea. As I've gotten older I've found it is even more difficult to say what I need to to say, as John Mayer puts it.

There are several factors contributing to this affliction, in no particular order:

Fear
Rejection (fear of)
Pride (fear of having none)
Not wanting to hurt the another person's feelings
Not wanting to be responsible for hurting another person's feelings
(I'm sure there are more, but these are the ones I came up with in two minutes.)

All being honest boils down to is: fear.

Someone once told me that he couldn't be honest, as if there was some kind of blockage or tangible entity preventing him from doing so. Really, it was an excuse. The only factor that prevents people from being honest with each other is the fear of what will happen next if you actually tell the truth.

This week, I am vowing to pay extra attention to my honestly levels: when I am saying certain things just for the perceived benefit of the other person (lying-by-omission, typically), when I am telling white lies to get myself out of situations, or just straight up lying out of a fear of whatever. I wonder how difficult it will be to really, fully be honest--without agenda, without ego, and certainly, without fear.