I work at being honest each and every day. It hasn't always been a goal of mine.
If someone asks me how I'm doing, I am reluctant to jump in with a falsehood or brush 'em off with a "Great!" that sounds like I'm trying to sell them a palace that actually resembles a well-used dog house. It's not easy being truthful when things have been going shitty for awhile. Not shitty as in the widgets aren't selling, or the birds ate all the seed, or the clients are running scared due to my communicable disease, or I burned down their office. It's simply that I'm at a loss.
My dad died and I'm grieving. I can't smile straight since tears come to my eyes in response to the upturned lips. When I talk about the last month without him in my life, I quiver. The pain and suffering he endured the last week of life causes panic and trepidation in my voice. My confident stance turns inward. Shoulders tuck, head bends forward.
Yep, that's where I've been all this time!
A few people I shared my news with disappeared, seemingly into thin air. They're just gone, unavailable. I thought they were close, but they fled. Hm. So I stopped sharing for a while.
While others, perfect acquaintances, showed immediate concern. My hands were taken in theirs and they sought my eyes. I felt cared for, could sense the compassion, interest in my well-being. Sympathy came through like a bullhorn. But tender and patient, and willing to be there. With me. In whatever capacity I could be present. They suggested I call, at any time. They want to be there.
I'm being honest each and every day. I'm breaking bad. Showing my Self. My clients and I are closer than ever. I talk with them and am truthful. They appear more willing to tell me their story, share strengths and hope. I like to hear them overcome pain and anguish. It promises me the same, one day.
It gets more rich, when I am willing to be THERE, with IT. And let go of those non-personal gestures of disconnect. For some may not know how to cope with their own loss. Haven't adjusted to their grief. Nor played with the absence. We've not been given the protocol responses with death. A sincere "I'm sorry" actually does help.
I'm breaking the bad habit of lies. They only hurt me, and you.
Try it, and let me know how it goes.
One word in the comment box, of how you feel after reading this is helpful to know that I'm making sense, getting through, and even that someone, somewhere out there, is noticing.
Thanks!