It’s been a year and some change since my last confession…I mean, blog entry. You know this tune: “A lot has changed”, “I’ve grown up a little”, “I’ve met the love of my life”, and so on and so forth. So I’ll skip past all the back-patting and thumb away on my touchscreen keyboard.
I am not as smart as I thought I was.
Seriously, I’m not. I woke up today after a few hours rest and asked myself: “Self, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Self responded with some mumbo jumbo, politically correct answer because Self didn’t want to bruise his own ego. But I ignored Self and listened to Her.
I haven’t known Her for too long but it feels like I have. I hurt Her with little white lies that I thought were collateral for time I needed to correct insecurities about my Self (see what I did there?) without evaluating the ramifications of them inevitably coming back to haunt me. And man did they come back to haunt me tremendously.
Trust is earned through honest words and sincere, pure, non-confrontational actions that support those words. I failed miserably at doing this recently and in lies (ahem…) this confessional (I mean, blog entry).
A little white lie will most definitely lead to others. Sooner than you know, you’ve planted a field of white lies so thick it’s covered all of what’s true about yourself. And when those white lies blossom and die like all living things, your true Self is covered with wilted petals that give life to weeds. No one wants to plant roses in a garden full of weeds.
I tried to get away with that and the roots to the roses I was planting became suffocated. An “I’m sorry” isn’t going to repair the damages done to my garden. It’s time to put the gloves on, get down on my hands and knees and get dirty. Problem is, I’m not well versed in gardening.
I thought I knew a little bit about everything but I’m not as smart as I thought I was.