why does my breath catch in my throat, and the anxiety begin to squeeze my sternum as i read those words?
it is as if part of me – but not the conscious me, at least most of the time – knows that i have been historically less than truthful. to myself, mostly. i have been unable to acknowledge what i feel, what i think; instead always feeling and thinking what everyone around me does, and expects me to.
i feel panicky as i try to imagine what being completely honest would look like.
authenticity is a word that has grown tired within the past decade or so, but i seem to be only discovering a need for it now. today.
it’s not as if i set out to lie to anyone, and if i recognize that i have, it takes all i have, but i try to make it right. but i’m afraid i slant the truth constantly to please the ears of my audience, whoever they may be.
this coping habit has been born of fear.
*being misunderstood, my beauty unseen
*being unloved, unliked, unwanted, alone
*being wrong (if i say what they expect, i will never be accused of being wrong. except when someone plays devil’s advocate WHICH DRIVES ME CRAZY, AND MY ANXIETY LEVELS WAY UP because how can i gauge what they really think, and cater to that, when they are presenting the opposite??)
wow. this runs deep.
but today, i have sensed a spirit-invitation in this:
to be present with my own heart, so that i am even able to “be honest”.
to learn to be true, whatever the cost.
to let the truth set me free.