At the end of an endless conversation several months back, my friend asked, "Do you always tell the truth?" In other words, would there be an occasion that would I tell a lie. I paused because there are times when I shirk from the truth and re-paint the situation. There are times when it's hard to be completely honest, especially when I know the truth will really hurt or it will hurt me to hear it. I think this is where it gets sticky, especially with close relationships, and that I risk destroying them (for example let's say they were doing something wrong or damaging, or that's what I thought, but what if they actually weren't—you see?).
At this point in my life, I was, almost by accident, just on the cusp of starting to understand what honesty actually was. It took a lot of conversation, laughter, and the culmination of much suffering to make me start forcing myself to reveal my so-called secrets and accept others' truths. I realized, as well as my truths, I am my past lies; I cannot deny them; if I ignore their having taken place (they slipped my lips), I am a coward, a child and show my true face of inadequacy. You can't give the truth if you don't have truth. Lying was my way of clearing up my unconscious anxieties and emotional survival mechanisms that I thought might/would protect me in the first place. I am now giving myself the space to actually feel my feelings and be true to them. At all costs. And even though I may have a ways to go on the path of honesty, it has so far been one of the most beautiful, painful and interesting lessons of my life. And as an artist this is very important to me. Xo, Sharon