Damn. I haven’t actually sat down and gathered my thoughts together in a good minute.
Today I came to the conclusion that people may be better off unaware of the completely raw truth.
My lovely counselor decided that I have trust issues (which is nothing I didn’t know before). In order for me to break out of my “everyone will mess you up” mentality, she suggested I start being more open with people that I’m close to without feeding them all that they want to hear. In order for this mentality shift to be successful, I need to actually taken others deep enough into where the honesty lies so they can catch a whiff of all the crap I’ve been feeding them this whole time. So naturally what do you do when your counselor gives you “professional advice”?…You trust that their 6 years of graduate school certifies them to play games with your mind, so you let them.
Two hours ago, me and my roommate were cleaning our room and talking (about what I don’t even remember). Usually, when I think of something to say that resides in the closed portion hidden deep within my superficial everyday conversation, I choose not to speak of it. But hey, what the shrink says goes.
So I start off, “I’m in a really weird state of mind and I don’t even know how to explain it.” And just like that, instant regret. Damn you Dr. Whoever.
What probably sounded to her like a bunch of inconsistencies came spewing out of my mouth—Truth: hardly given, rarely received well.
Day 1 of this process of me discovering how to open up and get hurt and I’ve already retreated mentally to my comfort place where I let people live happily.
I stand now as the type of person she never wanted to room with. What was to be a strong convergence of two very spiritual and driven young women has now turned into a divergence. Now she must pour from her filled cup into my empty one, leaving her drained and quenched thirsting for an equally yoked friendship.
Although I’m simply hypothesizing, as soon as the truth spewed from my mouth, a certain look fell upon her face. How can you help the helpless person who desires no help?
They call situations like that impossible.
There across the desk next to you now sits a stranger. One who no longer shares that same ambition to chase Christ, but instead craves to chase life. All she desires is to live free and the brutal truth under all the “I’m here for you”‘s is you can’t supply that.
Bam. Just like that. Gone is the glue that held the two flimsy sheets of paper together. Now one goes to drift in the wind and the other remains intact beneath the hand of the Writer.
So thanks Doc, but I’m pretty sure there are some truths that are better left un-shared.