Striving For Truth

An exploration of being a truth-teller.

Photo by Tatum Bergen on Unsplash

What does it mean to be a truth-teller? Does it refer to someone who tells it like it is, no matter how rude? Or is it someone who has tactful candor? An art form perfected over time. Does truth-telling refer to holding others accountable? Or perhaps telling their version of the truth? No matter the definition, truth-telling is hard.

When I have to bring up what I know will be a hard conversation, I like to start by saying, “The story I’m telling myself is…” Starting this way has been particularly helpful in my relationship with my husband. It helps clear the air, and convey my internal narrative. This phrasing allows expression of impressions and feelings without labeling or talking in absolutes. Nearly every time, the story I am telling myself is not the truth.

Recently, a story I’m telling myself is I feel that Truth eludes me. I marvel at those who can read a situation and see between the lines. Perhaps I am too naive to be critical? I am deeply empathic. Maybe even too agreeable. I am working on building a backbone, especially when I disagree with a situation or something said. I hate confrontation. I want to be “nice.” Since the pandemic began, this niceness conflicts with my duty to protect my children. I must keep my children distanced or masked from everyone. I am conflicted between offending someone versus keeping my children safe, which is really no choice at all. Nonetheless, it is a struggle for me. However, with age I find I care less and less what others think. Maybe by the time I am eighty years old, I will be a fucking riot, saying whatever I want. I hope so.

There’s a saying I love: “Don’t believe everything you think.” In other words, don’t believe every story you tell yourself. Don’t assume the thoughts, intentions, or motivations of another. These negative stories will carousel in your mind until they foam out in a fury. Or they distill into stress causing physical harm to your body. Perhaps being a my-truth-teller is the best we can hope for?

Ultimately, I want to be a truth-striver. I listen to those with different perspectives, who have struggles I could never fathom. I believe their truth. If you believe people, you really hear what they are saying. You will find humanity. Not necessarily agreement, but a commonality of feeling.

My girl, Brené Brown, has a mantra, “I am not here to be right. I am here to get it right.” This mantra plays on repeat in my mind when I am confronted with intense situations. Especially situations involving prejudice. Outside of being a woman, I have every privilege there is. I am a straight, college-educated, suburb-living, stay-at-home momming, white woman married to a white man. We have a stable income and three healthy biological children. None of this is “right.” Just what it is. I have so much. Yes, I worked hard and made decisions that led to this comfortable life. That is not the point. Everyone is doing the best they can with what they have. We all struggle. But I started with a leg up, because of the circumstance of who and where I was at birth. Then I was lent a helping hand every step of the way. Recognizing and using my privilege to help others is one of my core values.

Just as Brené tries to get it right rather than be right. I too strive to get it right, which means I definitely have some things wrong. I actively strive to grow, learn, and relearn. Never arriving at a destination but always reaching for what is right. Striving for Truth.

With all this truth-telling I have that “Tell The Truth” song by The Avett Brothers stuck in my head. It is a great song. You should check it out.

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Striving For Truth was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.