CheekyChicago

I learned something interesting about myself this year: I can’t handle the truth.

Seriously, I don’t think I’m cut out for it. I think my fragile ego and ever-changing self esteem is safest in the harbor of white lies; where a gentle breeze of false affirmation drifts through the trees atop a mountain of what I want to hear.

See? That sounds like paradise.

But, no, that’d be too easy. Apparently, I signed up for a life of truth and sincerity.

Yuck.

Take the standard, “Do I look fat in this?” Everyone – male or female -knows this as a death trap. So what do we do? We lie. Have you ever asked your significant other the timeless, “Is he/she cuter than me?” I can promise you that statistically speaking you have never ever been told the truth on that one. Don’t even get me started on the “Do you like my haircut?” question. When was the last time anyone told the truth on that minefield?

And the list goes on and on.

Unfortunately for me (or fortunately, I still haven’t decided), I have a few friends who “love me too much” to “not tell me the truth.”  Gag.

Take Briana, for example. My college roommate and one of the most truthful people I know, she has been telling me for years (basically) that my hair does not look good long. Sure, it started out innocently enough. She’d reach over and touch my long locks and say, “You’d look great with a short little bob.” This quickly escalated to, “When’s your next haircut?” and finally ended with a poem tucked into my purse that playfully (yet sincerely) lamented on how long my hair had gotten.

Then there’s Clare. One of my best friends in the city and well-known for her off-the-cuff honesty and direct approach. Last week, after a string of bad days, I said to her, “What if I’m depressed?” All I was looking for was a “Lynds! No way. It’s just been a bad season.” or “Are you kidding? You could never be depressed.” I would’ve even settled for a “This too shall pass.” Her response? “Have you ever thought about seeing a counselor?”

Completing my hat trick of forthright friends is my sister Emma. I know she “wants the best for me” and only “tells me this because she loves me,” blah blah blah. A few months ago, I sent Emma an article to edit. She often serves as the ‘humor police’ and will tell me upfront if she thinks something doesn’t work. But I think I underestimated how hard it can be to get criticism, even if it is loving and constructive. I got back her edits and she had highlighted three different sections with the notation: “Not that funny.”

At the end of the day, though, were all of these people right? Mostly. And truth be told, after I regain consciousness or get my breath back, I usually end up taking their advice. And even farther down the line, I end up deeply thankful for their honesty. As hard as it can be to hear these things, it is a rare and precious thing to have people who love you enough to tell you the ugly truth.

So whenever I feel stung by a hard truth, I remember that it takes great risk and strength to be honest with people when you know it is not what they want to hear. And the fact that I have anyone in my life that loves me that much should more than make up for the moments of hard-to-hear honesty. So when I can, I thank these people who are brave enough to tell me the truth.

And when I can’t do that, I ask for someone elses opinion. See? Everyone wins.