Speaking Your Truth

As I described last week, the only way to make strong relationships and alliances – to get things done bigger than ourselves – is to keep our word and be completely aligned between our actions and words.

But what happens when you’re living in a world that doesn’t appear to value its word? Advertising has promised “quality” and “luxury” so frequently that the words have become meaningless. Politicians have redefined words so frequently that we no longer feel confident that we are speaking the same language. We see coworkers who say one thing to one person, then the exact opposite to another, and seem to benefit from telling different stories to different people. We may do it ourselves, because we fear the consequences of displeasing our bosses or loved ones, or we feel the consequences of lying are offset by the benefits we receive.

Learning to be honest – to be true to yourself – can be challenging when the benefits aren’t immediately apparent. Frequently we may feel we are letting people down when we say “I can’t do that.” People may indeed get upset that you are telling them what you see, rather than what they want you to see. But if the costs are painful at first, the payoffs are immense.

The first step to being honest is being honest with yourself. Lying is painful, because we know that we aren’t really telling other party what they need to hear: the truth about how things are. We feel guilty, ashamed, that we can’t simply speak our truth, that we can’t tell them what we see, that our perspective, different as it may be, is important. If we are lying to ourselves, we won’t be able to reach Point B, because we aren’t willing to see where Point A is in our journey.

Sometimes we hide this pain so deeply that we actually feel that lying is helpful, beneficial, doesn’t really hurt the other person. White lies, lies of convenience, lies that give us benefits while perhaps undermining others, all require that we feel justified in being dishonest. We may build up walls to the pain, calling upon the greater good, telling ourselves that it didn’t really hurt them. Which is another lie.

When we break through that wall, and we open our eyes to the damage we have caused, the opportunities we took away from others, from ourselves, by not facing reality and addressing it from the space of honest dealing, it can hurt. A lot. We may find that we don’t like what we have become. Tears ensue. Despair can set in.

And if it hurts enough, if we find ourselves revolted enough, we may discover that we never want to lie again. And our journey towards truth begins.

We might not have reached that point. We already saw our lies, and didn’t feel comfortable about it. Then this is the opportunity for us to become more aligned with how we feel, and to release ourselves from the discomfort we felt.

But what if speaking the truth is scary to us? Can we face telling our loved ones that our feelings aren’t what we’ve been telling them they are? Can we tell our bosses that we can’t do our job in the time they require?

The fear of speaking the truth can come from many places. The truth may be “too terrible to bear.” In those circumstances, the challenge is to be more loving. Speaking a terrible truth can be the best thing, when spoken from a place of love. “Hey, honey, I don’t love you after all,” is a very different story from “We need to talk. I was afraid to tell you this, and I realized I couldn’t hide it from you anymore. I feel us drifting apart. Here is what I am feeling and how it happened.”

We may feel threatened by the other person’s power over our well-being. If a boss makes a request we cannot fulfill, will they fire us? If we tell our partner the truth, will they leave? Will they withdraw financial support? In this case, the value comes in speaking to help them make clearer choices. If they are looking for help, it is just as important for them to know when they cannot rely on you, or if you need an adjustment to make it happen, as it is important for them to know when they can. If they need a “yes” man more importantly than they need someone who can give them honest advice, it may be important to begin looking elsewhere for support. See Giving versus sacrifice and the power of “No” for more details on this.

This is very different from being “brutally honest.” Being brutally honest is speaking truth without taking responsibility for the delivery. Frequently, when someone describes themselves as brutally honest, they are afraid of being vulnerable. Brutal honesty pushes people away. Vulnerable, open honesty brings people together.

Vulnerable honesty explains our positions based upon our fears and dreams. We communicate from a place of inviting people to understand and empathize, not out of pity, but out of compassion. In this space, we learn to understand each other.

It can be challenging to speak from a place of vulnerability. It may feel like we are offering a precious gift that might be shattered by an unkind word. At first, we may need to find a close friend that we can practice this with. For me, I would tell my former partner that it was okay to do something, and he could tell I was lying about it. It was challenging for me to be honest about it, and he supported me being honest with him. I spoke haltingly at first, but eventually I got experience in speaking vulnerably.

After some practice with vulnerable speaking, we find that people react positively to it and in turn are willing to be vulnerable with us. As we get more practice, we find that we feel comfortable living vulnerably. Rather than being concerned with how the person might react, we are concerned with communicating to help connecting and understanding.

And suddenly honesty isn’t a scary place. It becomes a place of compassion and connection.