Telling nothing but the truth

According to the Radical Honesty movement founder, Bob Blanton, I should tell a former co-worker that I think she is overly attached to perfection and that I resent how I was expected to do things exactly the way she does. Then I ought to let my friend know that it bugs me when she tells me how badly she wants to see me and then flakes out on our plans because she is busy. Also, I better tell my neighbor how much I appreciate his honesty when he talks about our neighborhood, even when he's frustrated.

Blanton says on his website that the only way to have really free, authentic, and truly intimate relationships is to tell the truth -- the whole truth -- all of the time. "What if you think someone's ugly? Should you tell them?" someone tests in the FAQs. His answer is yes, and tell them what specifically puts you off, because chances are it's been affecting their relationships for years. If they're angry with you or hurt, stay with them through that until you're on the other side, with a more authentic relationship.

I'm not about to go all out voicing every stray thought, but it occurred to me that many of the lingering bits of pain in adoption may be somewhat inflated by the inability to voice them to the people involved. The movement toward open adoption is definitely a step in the direction of more honesty, because relationships are allowed to form between everyone involved. Even in very open adoptions, though, are we protecting an image of ourselves? Are we worried about the fragility of the relationships and therefore only willing to tell the truths that we feel others can handle? The tricky part is that they can probably handle much, much more than we give them credit for, and we're wasting a lot of energy protecting them (or protecting ourselves under the guise of protecting someone else) and trying to uphold a particular image of ourselves. According to Blanton, when people get to know each other in detail, they fall in love with each other.

A few months ago I was challenged to do something restorative for myself each day ... in the presence of my family. I had confessed to my life coach that I tend to sneak things that bring me joy -- lock the bathroom door and guiltiliy devour another 5 pages of a novel, go grocery shopping for the family and then make a hasty pass through the art supply store, hiding my new art supplies in the trunk of my car. It all sounded so ridiculous when I heard myself confess it, yet there was a real fear and vulnerability I was trying to protect.

The first day of my challenge I laced up my running shoes as my husband was getting ready to put the kids to bed. "I'm going running." I announced. "OK," he said, without a second glance. That's it? Just "OK?" I had geared up to run down a list of defenses about why I should be able to go. "Have fun," he added.

How much of what we withhold is unneccessary? What in ourselves do we find unlovable that we hold back from others?

Image: Radical Honesty store