The Courage to See
I knew why I had been living life in a blinded state.
I used to say I was "surprised" by the crises in my home. I played the role of the shocked victim every time a lie was uncovered or a promise was broken. But as I sat down to work on my inventory, I realized I wasn't surprised; I was just finally out of excuses. I had seen the hidden statements and the odd behavior for months. I hadn't been ignorant; I had been practicing "willful blindness" because seeing the truth meant my whole life—and my part in it—had to change.
The inventory didn't give me new information; it just took away my permission to pretend I didn't have it. Admitting the truth on paper was terrifying, but it was also the first time in years I felt my shoulders drop. The massive energy I spent pretending not to know was finally available for me to use for my own recovery. It turns out that the truth wasn't what was exhausting me; the hiding was.
Speak one plain, unvarnished truth in your next conversation. Do not add a single word of justification, explanation, or minimization to "soften" the reality of what you are saying to them.
