When I was about eleven, a dog inadvertently came into my life. It was one of those things where a kid got a dog from God Knows Where and brought it home and their mom was all NO WAY! And then that kid had to find a home for the dog and asked another kid, who asked another kid (that would be me) who, in turn, begged her mom to keep the dog and quite possibly threw in some emotional blackmail to seal the deal.
And that? Is how I got the dog—a small, snaggle-toothed, white fluffball of unknown origins who was aptly named (wait for it)…Fluffy!
Fluffy was the only dog we ever had that liked me better than my mom but she was a wily, spunky little thing and one day when I let her out into the backyard, she squeezed her way through the small gap where fence meets gate and she was gone.
When I realized Fluffy had outsmarted our high tech security (read: chain link fencing) and breached the backyard, I was, of course, distraught. My friend and I combed our suburban neighborhood calling for her, “FLUFFEEEEEEEE! FLUFFEEEEEEEE!” but she was nowhere to be found.
I called my mom at work, something I did much too often, and reported to her, with great distress in my voice, that I couldn’t find the dog.
And she told me? To call the police department and ask if anyone had reported finding a dog.
PFFFTTTTT!
I gasped! I sputtered!
I was all “Moooo-oooom, that’s SO dumb! Nobody calls the police to report finding a dog! GAWWWWWD!!!” Because when you’re eleven, you know EVERYTHING.
I’m not sure what I expected her to do from 25 minutes away, at her job, but I remember feeling irritated that my #1 problem solver’s only suggestion was calling the fuzz.
Annoyed, I got off the phone and after brewing on it, decided I would call the police department (probably just to prove that my mom clearly didn’t love me because if she did, she wouldn’t have given me stupidest, most unhelpful idea EVER and would have dropped whatever she was doing to come home and make everything okay).
Annnnnd, as luck would have it…
Someone DID file a police report about finding a small white dog the day before, about a half mile from my house.
I called the people and a nice lady told me they had found Fluffy soaking wet and shivering under a tree, in the rain, and took her home.
Long story short, I got my 20 yr old sister to drive me over there to pick up Fluffy, who had clearly been well-cared for by her kindly benefactor.
She yelped and cried with excitement when she saw me…and then very promptly peed and pooped on the woman’s kitchen floor.
I cleaned up the mess, thanked the lady profusely for taking care of Fluffy and we headed home.
Later, I told my mother, mumbling no doubt, that we’d found the dog after calling the police department. She must have bitten her tongue pretty hard to keep from saying “I told you so…”
I don’t think I ever apologized to my mom for insinuating that she was a total idiot and I’m also pretty sure I never thanked her for helping me find Fluffy.
I’m sorry, Mom. And thank you.
The Truth MAY Set Me Free. Or It Might Just Make People Hate My Guts.
Can you even imagine being 100% honest ALL THE TIME?
It’s been reported that 93% of Americans surveyed admit to lying on a regular basis.
And yes, I lie, too.
I lie about why I’m late picking my kids up from school; or why I haven’t returned phone calls from someone I really don’t want to talk to; or what I think of a friend’s unflattering new haircut; or why I’ve not gotten my cat’s shots updated in two years—I’VE BEEN REALLY SELF-ABSORBED BUSY, DAMMIT!
DON’T JUDGE (you know you do it, too)
Now picture yourself NEVER telling any lies at all—no white lies; no half truths; no sparing someone’s feelings; no little fibs to make yourself look better—or less bad.
This is the premise behind Radical Honesty. No lies. Ever.
Most of the time, we don’t lie to deceive others so much as we do it out of fear that we will lose something…be it love or respect or status or control or any number of other things we simply DON’T want to lose.
Of course, sometimes we DO lie specifically to deceive but it still, oftentimes, comes back to preserving or stopping the loss something important to us.
So. Could you stop lying, say, right now?
Every time I think about pursuing a life of Radical Honesty, I respond like a junkie—it’s going to be hard. And unpleasant. I’ll quit tomorrow.
I know for me, one of the hardest things about Radical Honesty would involve being honest about letting people know how I feel about something they have done or said that has upset me, or offended me or just plain pissed me off.
Women are socialized to be nice, to not rock the boat too much and to generally strive for harmony; being liked by others is most important.
Those things do not mesh well with being radically honest and thus, women tend to not let others know what they’re really thinking or feeling.
Instead we act angry or behave passive-aggressively but when the person with whom we are upset asks us if there is a problem and we often respond with faux innocence and perhaps a little shock.
“What? Nooooo! I’m not mad at you” except they really are and frequently, everyone else knows why EXCEPT the person they are upset with.
This is a generalization and of course, every situation will vary to a certain degree but this is classic female social behavior. Instead of confronting the source of our ire, we claim everything is fine while we seethe, brew and talk about the situation with everyone BUT that person.
Why? Because we are not raised to be honest. We’re raised to be nice. We’re not comfortable saying “Hey, I resent that” or “I think you’re wrong” or “You hurt my feelings” or any other expression that isn’t “nice” because being “not nice” = being potentially “not liked”.
I know there times, nearly every day of my life, that I’d like to call someone on something that they’ve done or said but I don’t. I don’t want to provoke anyone. I don’t want them to do what I would fully expect them to do which is listen to what I have to say and then go and tell everyone I’m a bitch and organize some kind of ridiculous campaign against me because I’ve broken the cardinal rule of being female and was honest instead of nice. It happened in 7th grade when I was honest about something and insofar as I can tell, things haven’t changed much. We women still act a lot like 7th graders.
But ohhh if we COULD be honest without fear of loss or retribution… Imagine how freeing it would be to say what you feel and mean what you say. Yes, people’s feelings will sometimes be hurt. And sometimes people will be shocked or angry but honestly, I think I’d rather deal with the truth and all that comes with it, then deal with the landmines and bullshit that come with untruths any day. Can someone REALLY fault someone else for being truthful?
I wouldn’t go so far as to say men are more honest than women but I do think men are much more free to be honest with each other and if bad feelings result, it’s usually resolved quickly and they move on.
Does this mean men never lie? No, of course not. *coughtigerwoodscough* *coughgeorgewbushcough* But they’re not socialized to choose harmony over honesty and I do envy that.
So…I’m still pondering Radical Honesty as a way of life—but something tells me I would have to preface EVERY conversation with a reminder that I’m no longer pulling any punches because the idea of hurting someone’s feelings is extremely disturbing to me and I would want them to understand before I say anything that it’s not my intention, but rather a potential side effect of the NEW! ME!
What do you think? Is Radical Honesty something you would every consider?
Anyone up for a Radical Honesty challenge?
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This article was the inspiration for this post and I’m considering buying this book. Or at least checking it out from the library. And in the interest of honesty, that’s an Amazon affiliate link.
NOTE: I will NOT be attending any Radical Honesty seminars or what have you, because, honestly, I hate stuff like that.