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 — the uncovered lies, the broken promises. But sitting with my inventory, I realized I wasn't surprised at all. I had seen the hidden statements, the odd behavior, the signs I'd trained myself not to follow too far. I wasn't ignorant. I was practicing willful blindness, because actually seeing meant my whole life — and my part in it — had to change.
The inventory didn't give me new information. It just made it impossible to turn away. Once it was on the page, I couldn't unknow it. That was terrifying. But it was also the first time in years I felt my shoulders drop.
The energy I'd spent not-knowing turned out to be enormous. Once I stopped using it to maintain the lie, it was finally mine to spend on getting better. The truth wasn't what had been 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.
