Liz Gilbert on Truth and Kindness (and lies….)

Posted on by learning to live like water
I just saw this on Facebook.  It’s a post by my hero, Elizabeth Gilbert, on Truth, Lies and Kindness.  BOY, does she nail it.  Just nails it.  As someone who has had my life turned upside down by the lies of others, and who has been attacked for my passion to have the truth out on the table, this was amazing to read. I was accused of wanting to play God, because I insisted that the truth be told.  When, in reality, it was the liar that played God, manipulating me and others lives for their own benefit, with the most enormous pile of painful lies imaginable.  Liz Gilbert explains my need, and my pain, and my truth better than I have ever been able to.  Read on…..
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Dear Ones –

The biggest emotional trouble I’ve ever gotten into in my life always stemmed from the same dilemma — when I was torn between telling the truth, and being kind.

Both matter immensely to me.

Both of these virtues (truth and kindness) are top-notch, A-grade, golden-ticket qualities, recognized by every human society in history as being essential for basic goodness.

I want to be unfailingly honest, but I want to be a REALLY NICE PERSON.

But here’s the thing: I’ve traditionally had trouble figuring out how to be both. Because sometimes the truth really hurts people, and I never want to hurt anybody. So — for most of my life — when I had to choose between truth and kindness, I always went with kindness. Because my need to not hurt people was bigger than my need to be truthful.

Also, isn’t it a fact that most people — no matter what they may claim — actually don’t really want you to tell them the truth? (Or so my reasoning went, anyhow.) As a Ethics Professor of mine taught me back in college: “Most of us grew up in families where our parents DEMANDED the truth, but they couldn’t DEAL WITH IT…and so we all learn how to lie.”

Didn’t the world teach you how to lie, too, in order to keep things peaceful and smooth? So aren’t you doing people a favor, when you them what they want to hear? Isn’t that nice of you?

No.

Here’s the thing I have finally learned, after years of struggling and suffering over this subject:

White lies are OK. Other lies are not.

There is such a thing as a harmless little white lie. The best anecdote I know about this came from President Jimmy Carter’s mother, who — when her son was running for president — was visited down in Georgia by a pushy New York journalist, who demanded to know, “Is it true that your son has never told a lie? Seriously? NEVER?” Mrs. Carter thought about it, and said “Well, Jimmy has told some white lies….” The journalist thought she had Mrs. Carter in trap and said, “Aha! But isn’t a white lie just a lie, all the same?” Mrs. Carter said, “No, white lies are harmless.” The journalist said, “Give me an example of a harmless white lie.” Mrs. Carter said, “Well…remember when you came into my house today, and I told you that it was very nice to meet you? THAT was a white lie…”

Mrs. Carter was correct: If you can’t tell little white lies sometimes in order to be polite to people, than you’re a sociopath and a jerk — so don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal. Tell your neighbor that her cake was delicious — who cares? The world does not hinge upon such things, but it’s fine to be polite.

But this is not what we are talking about here.

We are talking about bigger moments, bigger lies, bigger truths.

There will be times in your life when people need to hear the truth from you — real truth, that will have real impact on their real existence — and when you decide “protect” that person with lies, then you are actually not protecting them at all. What you are doing is demeaning both them and you.

As that same Ethics Professor taught me, twenty-five years ago, “Whenever you lie to somebody about something that affects their life, you are manipulating that person and infantilizing them. By denying somebody essential information that they need in order to make intelligent decisions about their own future, you are effectively making all their decisions for them. There is no greater act of disrespect you could offer to an adult human than to make their choices for them, by lying to them, or by withholding essential information.”

Or, as my friend Martha Beck has taught me: “The truth is always an act of kindness, even when it seems like it will hurt. And a lie is always an act of unkindness, even when you believe you are being protective.”

For years, I told lies to people because I didn’t want to hurt them. Some of this was because I am “a nice person”, sure. But some of it was because I was “a scared person.” And some if it was because I was “a controlling person”. (Which isn’t very nice, when you really think about it.)

It took years of terrible consequences and suffering for me to realize that I wasn’t doing anybody any favors by hiding the truth from them, again and again. By lying to people out of kindness, I was being neither honest NOR kind. What I was practicing, in fact, is what the Buddhist call “Idiot Compassion” — which is when your cowardliness and your weak-heartedness makes you pity people instead of respecting them. Idiot compassion is what keeps people in relationships with abusers. (“Oh, he can’t help it! He had a hard childhood!”) Idiot compassion is what makes people engage in “pity sex”. Idiot compassion makes you cover for people, instead of challenging them. Idiot compassion is at the basis of all codependency. Idiot compassion makes you say yes when you need to say NO. Idiot compassion makes you easy to manipulate, but also makes you a serial manipulator — because you are always controlling people when you lie to them. Idiot compassion is called “idiot compassion” because it makes an idiot out of you, but it also makes an idiot out of your victim, because what you are offering is not protection, but patronization. By building a house of lies — no matter how pretty it may look from the outside — you are keeping everyone trapped.

As my friend Iyanla Vanzant says, “Respect people enough to tell them the truth.”

Respect yourself enough for that, too.

If there is one lesson I have FINALLY learned that has actually transformed my life, it is this: Whenever you are called to choose between truth and kindness, choose truth.

Trust me, in that moment you will actually be choosing both.

ONWARD,
LG

Doing a Little Manifesting

Posted on by learning to live like water

You know how I was out of chocolate last night?

My son came home as I was going to bed. I talked to him for a few minutes before I headed off for the night. I got up this morning and there was a chocolate bar by the coffee maker with a note. He’d gotten this new brand in at work and thought I might like it. I hadn’t told him I was out. He doesn’t read my blog, I don’t even think he knows the name of it.

He just thought I’d like it. He’s a good kid. And obviously, read me, lol. Guess he knows the way to my heart.

I remember introducing Scott to dark chocolate with crystallized ginger. He used to bring it to me, the first summer we were seeing each other. Not sure he meant to, but he found his way into my heart too, lol. Well, it was fun back then, regardless of how it ended.

My ex…… Nope. No chocolate from him, lol. I’m sure I never earned it.

My overwhelmed-ness seems to have alleviated tonight. I got rid of my washer and dryer to some guy that really needed it. I have a guy coming tomorrow night to look at the stuff I have to have hauled to the dump.

And I only have 2 more days of work. TWO MORE DAYS OF WORK. I am having a hard time giving a shit, lol. Which is totally unlike me, and I don’t show it. I try to show as much concern as ever. But boy, my heart is not in it.

I’m so glad I’m not one of those people who works for lack of anything else they want to do. I suppose, if you spend your days doing something you are passionate about, it’s different. But I don’t. I do something I’m good at, that’s interesting, and I like the people I work with. But there are so many things I’d rather be doing. And will be, soon.

I’m even starting to look forward to the drive to Denver. I might as well embrace it, right? Because I’m going to do it…..gonna try to make it fun, the trip of a lifetime for us. Then I’ll come home, see everyone I love here, and finish packing up the house and take off for my new life.

I think I’m good, at least for the moment.

It’s crazy but it’s happening. Dreams are manifesting.

Love and light all.

Overwhelmed This Morning

Posted on by learning to live like water

I am starting to feel overwhelmed, so I just did about 10 minutes of self-reiki. It helps. Not as much as I’d like, but the benefits often come throughout the day. I woke up in the middle of the night for an hour or two, making lists in my head of what I have to get done.

I have to take my car in, again, to have my mechanics go over it to make sure it’s good for the drive to FL. I took it yesterday for an oil change, and asked them to do that, but apparently he didn’t understand. So I’ll take it back this morning. Whatever.

I called my homeowners about selling the house. I gave them the closing date. Someone called me back later to talk about putting my son’s car on his own insurance, since he was on with me, bundled with the house. They gave me an estimate of $368 a month, and I about flipped out. There’s no way my son can afford that! It’s about $230 on my policy now. I was thinking I’d just leave him on with me and leave the car registered to me til he turns 25, when the rates drop.

But then I went online and got a quote for $130! Which is lower than we estimated! So we’ll go with that. I still have to find out what we need to do with the loan to transfer the car to his name. He said he’ll call them Thursday, since the loan is in his name, but I’m a co-signer.

I brought home boxes yesterday from work, and realized I grabbed the wrong size. Sheesh. I filled one more box last night.

I have to go to my atty’s and sign the power of Atty. Then I’ll have to go back and sign the deed to the house one day the week after I get back from CO.

I called the guy whose number I got from a friend, that supposedly makes dump runs. “Gus Dump Runs” lol. His voice mailbox was full. Wtf. I got the name of someone else. So I have to call them today.

I need to stay calm, somehow, and not freak out over this. All this on top of packing up the rest of the house. I just keep saying, “You will get this done, you will get this done.”

At least the heebie jeebies from talking to my ex have retreated back where they belong. I did find it interesting how I could see so much similarity between he and S yesterday. Unreal that I fell so hard for S, when he was so much like my ex. Different too, but so similar. Both have a default setting of lying. I’ll be so glad to be 1500 miles away from both of them. Forget them both. Well, honestly, I’ve forgotten my ex anyway, unless I need to talk to him about my son, or feel he should know something. I have to honor the fact that he’s my son’s father, whether or not he deserves it. S, is not quite forgotten. I still have my moments, though they are more rare.. In fact I was wishing I could just say goodbye to him. Though it’s probably a bad idea, lol.

Well, off to work. Just onward, onward. Through the maze of re-creating a life for myself and my son.  These posts are probably getting boring.  It’s just how I stay on an even, somewhat, keel, by writing it out.

Love and light.

Ex Triggers

Posted on by learning to live like water

Talk about getting triggered.

Normally my very rare conversations with my ex are short. A few minutes. Last night he talked and talked, for 20 minutes. 20 minutes trying to rewrite history.

I woke in the middle of the night, remembering. I couldn’t get back to sleep, revisiting the hell-hole that was marriage to that man. So I wrote the poem, Too Close, on my phone in the middle of the night. I finally got back to sleep. And hope I’m done with that little foray into the past. There’s still some PTSD left from him. It only rears its head when I have to deal with him.

I hope I don’t ever need to go there again.

I’m really glad we are not going to the wedding of his niece this weekend. I can’t imagine how hard that would have been. I forget when I am not around him. Don’t have to talk to him. At least I didn’t get drawn into some argument with him. Let him think whatever he wants to think. Let him rewrite history to make himself feel better, to take the blame off of himself.

I talked to my son about him, and son just can’t go there. Just can’t do it. He knows what his father will trigger in him. Not thinking that rift will ever heal, because his father will never acknowledge what he did to my son.

It certainly isn’t just S’s betrayal that I will be healing from in Avalon though.  I’ll be 1500 miles away from my ex, and hopefully that distance is sufficient.  S…..what he did was not so pre-meditated, nor systematic.  He flies by the seat of his pants and makes bad decisions because he has an inability to see the bigger picture, and a real inability to discern right from wrong.  He is such a narcissist, “right” for him is what he wants.  No matter what it does to someone else. He loves walking the edge, wondering if and when his footing will give way and he’ll be tumbling into the abyss again.  That’s as pathetic as my ex, though, and I’m just glad I only had 18 months of it to recover from, not years and years.  I just wish I didn’t still feel the energetic connection with him, but I do.  Strong as ever.  I’m learning how to ignore it.

In other news, I’m taking my car into the shop this morning to have them make sure it’s up for a 1500 mile trip. I have feeling it will need brakes. The car has 80,000 miles and the original brakes. They aren’t making any noise, but still…that’s a lot of miles for brakes.

I sent out my retirement announcement at work yesterday to customers and vendors and colleagues. It felt weird, just really really weird.

My friend who’s driving with me to FL is coming over on Thursday night, so we can plan our trip a little. She is 20 years younger than me. She keeps saying we can drive straight through from my sisters in VA, that she’ll drive. But it’s about 15 hours from there, I don’t think I want to do that. We’d get there so late at night. I’ll talk her out of it, lol.

So all is well. I survived the interaction with my ex. So much to do. Onward…..

Love and light.

Too Close

Posted on by learning to live like water

Too close to the abuse tonight
Again.

Too many memories
Flood my heart like a coastal storm at high tide.

Pictures of my sons chest black and blue
His eyes cast downward
As his father cast his own shame into his son.
The biting words, intended to inflict misery.

The way he used my son to make me do what he wanted.
Hurting my son unconscionably if I didn’t follow his sick commands.
I did what he wanted.
He’d brag about it. “See what a little pressure can do?”

How I had to leave my son there,
to forge a way to create a new life for us both.
Scared to death,
but the other choice was to die there, in his locked, sick, dark world.

I wake up, remembering that dark and fearful place.
Remembering what I wished, hoped, had been forgotten.

Remembering now that we made it.
Ten years later, life is bright and beautiful.
Grateful.

Why Is It So Hard

Posted on by learning to live like water

 

Why is it so hard
to say, “I fucked you over”?
How do you even know
Who you are
If you can’t own it?

Is it worth losing people?
People who loved you?
A son, a lover
Because the shame is so strong
For what?

Hold onto that shame
And lose everyone who ever loved you.
Lose everything that ever meant anything.
Because you can’t stand the shame
so you lie, you steal
You rewrite history
To avoid feeling the shame.

Your son has no father
Your wife has no husband
You have your pet shame
You hide it in the closet,
But with every word you say
The closet door cracks open
And the shame creeps out and
Stinks up your world.

Would that you could own it.
And we could embrace you
And tell you we are ok.
And tell you we loved you anyway
And that shame is no friend.

Lies, fear, shame,
Causing so many people so much pain.
Why? Because you can’t own it.
So no one ever trusts you.
No one ever knows you.
Not me, not her, not him.
So you walk through this world alone.
Your whole life
Miserable, unhappy.
Believing shame, when it tells you
You don’t belong
and you don’t deserve love.

If you only knew
If you only could see
How simple it is to leave it.

Let it go, own it
Send it to the universe
To atone.
Join life again.

My Son’s Father, Work, Just Work…

Posted on by learning to live like water

Yesterday I tried to call my son’s father, to tell him we were moving. Of course, he didn’t answer. I left a voice mail, and said, “Hi…It’s Deb. I’m calling you because B and I won’t be able to go to the wedding this weekend. Bruce is moving to Denver, and I’m moving to Florida and it’s all happening in the next 3 weeks. If you want to talk to me about it, give me a call.”

Didn’t hear back from him. Until today. He tried to reach my son at work. And me, at work. Of course. Not gonna call me when he knows I’m home.

Whatever, it’s his way.

So, I called him back on my way home. I didn’t want to talk to him once I got home, I wanted to be home and done with it. Because he’s work. He’s just so much work.

He seems to have a genuine interest in our son, which is a good thing. But honestly, I know him way better than I want to. I know everything he says is a manipulation, of someone, or something. Because after I made sure he knew the things that most parents would want to know, that he has people there, that he has a place rented, that he has a job waiting for him, that he’ll be fine, I had to listen to him tell me all about the heart attack he had. I knew he had afib, not a heart attack, I knew it was 18 months ago, and he has never mentioned a word about it to me. Going on about how he has had a long slow recovery, how he only has 65% of his heart capacity, how he couldn’t walk up to the mailbox to get his mail. How his dr told him he’s lucky he made it through the divorce alive. OMG, on and on. How much of it was true? Maybe 5%.

He’s telling me now, to draw sympathy, so I’ll tell my son, so my son will be worried about him. He weaves a story around a teeny bit of truth. No matter to him that the whole rest of the story is a lie.

But I didn’t question him. I didn’t quiz him. I know better. I just listened, and accepted one small part of it, I know he had a heart issue. I also know he checked himself out of the hospital. I do know he lost a bunch of weight, because I saw him outside his business when I drove by about a year or so ago.

Then I had to listen to how our son won’t talk to him, how he hasn’t talked to him in about 5 years. How he didn’t have much time with him, only 6 or 7 years. I balked at that. I said, “You had 16 years with him.” Because my son walked away from him at 16. He went on, “Well, not really. I didn’t spend that much time with him until he was playing baseball.”

OMG, this man can rewrite history. Like he should write a novel, geezus. He forced me to go back to work at 3 months and stop nursing him, so he could spend equal time with him. The kid played hockey from the time he was 5, and except for the first year (because God forbid he should have to get his son to Learn to Play at 6 AM) he was at EVERY fucking minute of hockey, and practice. He played baseball from age 6. WTF. His father never missed a game, and in fact coached a lot of his teams.

You have no idea how badly I wanted to hang up. Call him a fuckin’ asshole. But he’s too pathetic.

It’s just that he leaves out completely, the fact that he called this kid every nasty, ugly name you can imagine, his whole life. He would ask him, after a game, “What’s the matter? You need your mommy’s tit to suck on?” At 8 years old. He would ridicule him, make up stories about the way he played, complete lies, never compliment him, berate and belittle him every chance he had. He leaves out the part where he forced our son to mediate our arguments, adult arguments over adult issues. Put an 8 year old in charge of making a decision. Think the kid knew who not to piss off? Think the kid knew who would love him no matter what he decided? He just leaves out the HOURS spent in the car where he debased, and derided the kid. Hours. The days where my son didn’t play hockey well enough to deserve to stop for a meal, after playing a game it took us 2 hours to get to and 2 hours to get home from.

(And my son was a GOOD hockey player, he almost always played up a year, and on teams that were at times nationally ranked.)

He left out the times he smacked my kid around, unknown to me. Swore my kid to secrecy because he KNEW I’d call the cops if I found out.

So, when I say work, it’s fucking WORK to listen to him and his stories, as if I wasn’t there. As if I don’t know the whole story. As if his rewriting history removes the scars on my son’s psyche. As if I don’t know the whole truth, nothing but the truth and his re-composing is going to change the abuse that’s burned into me.

I used to try to explain to him that he needs to own his actions, he needs to go out on a limb for his son. It was always an argument. It was always an attack on me for showing him who he was in the mirror. It has always been him denying what he did to my son, refusing to be accountable. So until he does, until he can call my son and leave a voice mail acknowledging the fact that he stole my son’s happy childhood from him, my son will probably not want to talk to him.

Even though I have told my son, “Your father is such a pathetic man, B, you gotta just feel sorry for him. He’s paying the price for his actions.” But that’s, of course, my perspective. Me, the Aries who can’t hold a grudge. My son is a Taurus, they can hold one forever.

What his father did to him, he also did to me. I have just understood since, it is a defect in him, not me. I told my son, “we have wonderful lives, you and I. We have created our own wonderful lives.” I wish he could forgive. But then, maybe he has. Maybe he just hasn’t forgotten.

Whatever. I have told my ex as much as I can without compromising my relationship with my son. I gave him the head’s up so he won’t go to the wedding and get blindsided, which is an action that grew out of the unconditional love I try to extend, where ever I can. Even to him, who tried to steal my soul. He didn’t, he couldn’t. I escaped, and managed to create a wonderful life. He doesn’t hurt me anymore. He can’t. I don’t give him that power.

I just let him rant, and weave a story, and convince himself that it wasn’t really his fault. And then I hang up the phone and sigh. And want to cry, wondering how the hell he ever got so far off the track.

I am kind of hopeful that it’s the last time I will have to talk to him.

Work, it was just exhausting. I am home, with a glass of wine, frozen chicken parm pizza. I am ok. I got one hard chore out of the way.

Love and light, everyone.

Life Without My Stuff

Posted on by learning to live like water

(I had such a hard time titling this post.  I kept wanting to call it Breaking My Life Into Pieces but thought that sounded too much like a sad love affair, and I’ve surely written enough of those, lol.  Athough the emotion is not dissimilar, strangely.  Big change comes hard, most times, whether it’s a love affair, your kid moving out, or you moving away.  There is always some degree of loss, and some degree of gain.)

The people who bought my deck furniture two weeks ago finally came back and got it last night. The wife is very excited to have it, which makes me feel good. But now, I can’t sit outside in the morning and write and have my coffee and listen to the birds and feel the cool morning air because there is no place to sit. I can’t even take a chair from my kitchen table out because I sold the kitchen table.

It feels like watching my life get broken into pieces and sold off, or given away. I was able to schedule the Salvation Army to come pick up my son’s couches on Sept 12. I’ll give them a bunch of other stuff that I have that’s in decent shape. I have to call a guy whose name a friend gave me, to take a bunch of stuff to the dump for me. I have a large collection of half burned candles I want to give away….Good Yankee candles for the most part. But I think I’ll have to throw them out.

I never thought I was attached to things. Really. My ex is attached to things, he can’t let go of anything even when it drags him under. I’m not attached like that, I can divest myself of what I don’t want to take with me, but it is harder than I expected to walk through my house without all the stuff that is normally there, just part of my life. I am a bit shaken by it.

I’ll be glad in a few weeks, when I can start putting it back in a place I want it, in Florida. When I can again have my house with my stuff, and feel like, yeah, it’s my house when I come through the door. Right now, even my bedroom is beginning to look strange to me. The nightstands almost cleared off, the closet with nothing in it except shoes, and my summer clothes. Drawers have been emptied out.

I’m making lists of what has to be done yet. Call the insurance co, call the utilities, call the cable company, call the garbage pick up. I wish honestly I’d quit working last Friday. I just have so much to do before I take off for Denver.

Which is another stressor altogether. I should be down about 10 lbs by the time this is over. I know my friend, my bff, is planning a goodbye party of some kind when I get back from Denver. She invited me to dinner the 9th. But I KNOW her. Besides her nephew said to me last time I saw him, “Well, we are having that party for you anyway, right?” LOL. Gave it away, lol. But I’m not telling her, I will fake it and be surprised. That will be nice, really, to see everyone one last time before I go.

I’m sure my blogs are getting kind of boring, just about the stress, and the angst, and things I have to do to accomplish this. Let me say it is WAY more stress than leaving my ex-husband was. For one thing, I was running full-tilt boogie from a life that was killing me, literally. I couldn’t wait to get out of the pressure-cooker of that house, away from him and his lying power trip. I couldn’t wait to live somewhere where I could wake up and everything was the same as when I went to bed. I didn’t take much with me, and I was going a mile and a half away.

This move…the life I have here is wonderful, and I don’t particularly want to leave it. I just want to stop working and I can’t, and live here. And I am sick to death of winter. It’s so difficult when you are on your own, and have to deal with all the snow, and cold and heating bills by yourself. I’m sick of driving to work and/or home in snow, shoveling my car off, getting snow in my shoes, when I leave work. But mostly sick of having to go to work anyway, lol.

My life….I’m just blessed. My son and I are happy sharing the same space while we both have our own lives. I have a ton of friends, so I’m not usually alone unless I choose to be. But I can’t keep this house if I don’t work, and I don’t want to work, so off I go to my mortgage free bungalow in Florida. It will all be good, but the transition is difficult, really difficult.

Time to get this day underway. Love and light, all.