I taught a writing workshop this past weekend and talked about honesty in writing. That we should learn to be honest with ourselves and with God. That, after all, is the basis for this blog. So, as I was finishing up writing letters to my pen pals, I started writing this without even noticing it. As I typed, I knew it was something to post, as well as an invitation to others to share their own honest moments.
The idea came to me after I saw a blogger ask their followers to share what they call the "100% truth." While I think that is helpful, I'm not going to ask you to share your "truth." I just want you to be honest. Honesty doesn't always translate into truth. Sometimes we feel things about ourselves and others that are just not true. Sometimes we know these to be false, but we still believe them, and being honest with ourselves can help to bring that out. I told the women in my workshop that the statements of our honesty need not be permanent. In fact, I hope some of them are never permanent. I sure hope what I have written below isn't. But honest moments open us up to allow the Spirit to reveal a new truth to us. How can we receive the truth of God's love for us if we are not honest with ourselves about the fact that we don't deserve it? How can we honestly receive love from others if we are not honest about the fact that we push it away because we think we haven't earned it? So read my honest moment below. Comment if you wish. Share your own honest moments if you are so brave and feel comfortable. But most of all, know that honesty is important to helping us get to the truth of our lives...
I wish to begin this with a confession.
I am addicted to fear.
Not in the sense that I like horror stories or roller coasters, but in the sense that I do not know how to live if I don't feel it. It is the adrenaline to my compliancy. I am not sure if addiction is the right word, but it is the only one that comes to mind.
What am I most afraid of you ask?
Myself.
I am afraid of the darkest and brightest parts of me. I am afraid that things will go right. I am also afraid that things will go wrong. So I stay in the grey, and I live off of the fear of both circumstances, living a paralyzed life as if one was a feeding tube and the other a breathing machine. I situate myself in the contemplation of the decision because I am too afraid of the pain and too ashamed of the joy that could be its result.
This is my honest moment. This does not mean that I write
this having it all figured out, but that this is the honest I can be in this
moment. At this time.
What about you? What’s your “honest moment?” Feel free to
share.
