Stop lying.

I love listening to Erick Godsey, even though at times he can come across as arrogant or big headed. But is he really? Is saying things as they are arrogant?

In the English-speaking Western world, speaking their truth is unbearable for many. It’s that kind of next level unspeakable courage that if expressed out loud is deemed arrogant.

Now, let’s make a distinction between blatantly trying to hurt someone with personal opinions and judgement about others and speaking the truth of what one wants.  

I always find it fascinating when people say: ‘I don’t know what to say.’ Really? Or is it that you do not know what the other person would want to hear?

Because if you listen to your heart, and speak from your heart, you will know exactly what your heart wants to say.

But no, we always end up second-guessing. We do things because we think the other person would want us to do them. We say things because we think the other person would want to hear those words.

Lying, lying, lying.

After 20 years of marriage, we realised that we both were saying and doing things presuming what the other person would want us to. But we never really asked each other: what is it that you really want? Damn, so much confusion could have been avoided. For once we could have taken the shortcut, not the long windy road of trials and second-guessing.

We, as in all of us, we’ve learned to be someone that the society, the family, the workplace wants us to be. And maybe that’s why living and speaking from the space of our heart courageously (courage comes from the French word coeur for heart) is frowned upon. How dare she have the courage to state what she wants and go for it? Rude.

How are you, they ask. In English it’s impolite to say anything other than ‘Fine’ or some other positive / lukewarm / vague statement.

What if I’m not fine? What if I’m totally not fine. Am I now supposed to adjust my answer (aka: lie) because it’s not the norm to tell the truth?

At least in Polish you are never to say that you are ‘fine’, it’s better to complain. Which is also BS because what if you are actually fine?

Lies, lies, lies and more lies on top of lies.

I don’t know about you, but I find it unbearable. Maybe that’s why I find solitude the most rewarding. Going out to the world is having to put a mask on and keep second-guessing things that the other would want us to say, just to get a second-guessing reply in return.

I live on the Downs and in August the blackberry picking season resumes and lasts till end of September. I dread this time. No, not because of the wonderfully fat juicy berries that I gather and freeze for the winter. It’s because of the onslaught of small talk that I must endure as hikers pass me by. It goes like this: I’m minding my own business, enjoying the sound of nature and the trance of working in the field (it’s truly cathartic) and a robot comes along: ‘Someone’s going to make blackberry crumble!’. I swear, when I hear the approaching humans, I can count in reverse as they come closer: 3, 2, 1… ‘Someone’s going to make blackberry crumble!’.  There’s no surprise AI is catching up so fast and soon might even replace us, we are so boringly predictable. We already sound like robots.

Let’s put the small talk aside. What about the real big talk?

I know couples who get married believing (hoping) that the other person wants kids but never actually having that conversation. You know how this story ends.

For years I blamed my Mother for not carrying for me, for the times when she was cruel to me. In fact, she told me on many occasions how I ruined her life. And for two decades I couldn’t comprehend this. Are mothers not supposed to love their children? I was mad at her, raging.

I took it out on myself: if she doesn’t love me, it is probably because there’s something wrong with me. I must be not lovable. I’m not worthy of love, even from my own Mother.

But you see, we never had this conversation. Like two adults. Heart to heart. We both just presumed.

She took the role of a mother, I tagged along.

I would very much have preferred to hear: Look, I got pregnant at the age of 16, I had to leave day-time education because pregnancy was not welcomed. I was a kid myself. This is the truth. These are the cards we got to play with. Let’s make the best of it together.

And you know what? Maybe if she said these words out loud, maybe she would be able to piece her shattered dreams together. Doesn’t it feel good to finally tell the truth?

Instead, there was a lot of resentment. And alcohol.

I don’t blame my Mother. Not anymore. She was put in an impossible situation, and she did her best.

Now it’s my turn to speak my truth. Because every time I second guess, every time I say or do things that I presume people would like me for, it backfires.

It’s funny, we usually criticise the things that we truly want and say that we want things that we think we should. We lie all the time. To others and, worst of all, to ourselves.

So, when Erick Godsey said in one of his podcasts: ‘Stop lying’ – it stopped me in my tracks. He intentionally added a big pause at the end of this sentence. Because really, there is not much more to say. Just stop lying.