Monday: Reflection

I've been noticing something about trust in relationships and in our everyday interactions:

The more we trust, the less we have to defend ourselves.

Less explaining.

Less making excuses.

Less trying to convince someone that we didn't mean what we clearly meant.

Less pretending.

For a long time, I was really good at not owning my actions, thoughts, and feelings.

If I was being rude, I could come up with a reason why I wasn't.

If I was angry, I could explain why I wasn't really angry.

If I had done something out of fear, I could make up a different story about why I'd done it.

I could do it quickly, too.

I was really good at making a story that protected me from having to admit what was actually happening.

But when I started practicing telling the truth, something unexpected happened.

I didn't have to defend myself as much.

If I was upset, I could say, "I'm upset."

If I was angry, I could say, "I'm angry."

If I was afraid, I could say, "I'm afraid."

I didn't have to pretend I was somewhere I wasn't.

And when I could acknowledge what was happening in the moment, I could actually work with it in the moment.

Something doesn't have to become a bigger problem when we're willing to tell the truth about it.

In fact, often the opposite happens.

The truth makes things simpler.

It takes courage to own what you think and feel.

Because sometimes the truth isn't particularly flattering.

Sometimes we don't want to admit that we were jealous.

Or defensive.

Or angry.

Or trying to control something.

Sometimes we don't want someone else to see that we're hurt.

But when we're willing to say, This is where I am, something begins to soften.

We stop spending so much energy protecting an image of ourselves.

We stop trying to make ourselves look better than we feel.

We stop fighting with what is already true.

And I think this is one of the ways trust begins to change our relationships.

When I trust you, I don't have to perform for you.

When I trust myself, I don't have to lie to myself.

And when I can tell the truth about what's happening inside me, I have somewhere to begin.

There is a freedom in that.

A liberation that comes from no longer having to keep track of the story you've created to protect yourself.

You can simply say:

This is what I'm feeling.

This is what I did.

This is what I want.

This is where I was wrong.

This is what I'm afraid of.

And then you can work with it.

No excuses.

No elaborate explanations.

No pretending.

Just the truth.

And maybe that's another form of trust:

Trusting that I can be seen as I actually am—and that I can handle what happens next.

This week, notice where you find yourself explaining, defending, or trying to convince someone of something.

Before you do, pause and ask yourself:

What is the simplest truth here?

And then see what happens when you trust yourself enough to say it.