To Thine Own Self be True

What if being true to yourself also means being willing to tell yourself the truth?

“To thine own self be true.”

I've always liked that.

It sounds like permission.

Be yourself.

Trust yourself.

Don't allow other people to define you.

Don't shrink yourself to make someone else comfortable.

Don't betray what you know to be true about who you are.

All good advice.

But there's another side to being true to ourselves that I don't think sounds nearly as good.

Sometimes we have to tell ourselves the truth.

About ourselves.

And those are not necessarily the same thing.

Because I can be completely authentic and still be wrong.

I can genuinely feel something and misinterpret what happened.

I can have good intentions and hurt someone.

I can believe I'm protecting my peace when I'm actually avoiding a difficult conversation.

I can call something a boundary when it's really a wall.

I can call myself independent when I've simply become uncomfortable needing anyone.

I can say, “That's just who I am,” when what I really mean is, “I don't want to examine this.”

I can be true to exactly who I am...

and who I am can still need some work.

That part doesn't fit quite as nicely on a coffee mug.

We talk a lot about authenticity.

And I understand why.

There is freedom in no longer performing for other people.

There is freedom in knowing who you are and not needing everyone else to approve of it.

There is freedom in deciding that you aren't going to become smaller, quieter, easier, or different simply because someone else would prefer you that way.

But authenticity without self-examination can become its own kind of hiding place.

Because “this is who I am” can end a conversation that perhaps needs to continue.

I've heard people say:

I'm just blunt.

I don't have a filter.

I'm not a people person.

I cut people off.

I don't trust anybody.

If you can't handle me, that's your problem.

And maybe every one of those statements is true.

The question is whether truth is being used as information...

or as exemption.

That's different.

Knowing something about myself gives me information I can work with.

It doesn't automatically excuse everything that information explains.

Maybe I am blunt.

Now I know.

But if my bluntness consistently wounds people unnecessarily, knowing that I'm blunt isn't the end of the work.

It's the beginning of it.

Maybe I do have difficulty trusting people.

That's important information.

But “I don't trust people” doesn't tell me whether the people around me are untrustworthy or whether I've learned to expect betrayal before anyone has had the opportunity to earn my trust.

Maybe I am fiercely independent.

Fine.

But am I independent because I know I'm capable?

Or because somewhere along the way I decided relying on people was dangerous?

Same behavior.

Very different truth.

And that's what has me reconsidering what it means to be true to myself.

Because the truth about me isn't limited to what I like about me.

It includes my contradictions.

My patterns.

My defenses.

The explanations I reach for a little too quickly.

The things I repeatedly blame on circumstances.

The places where I am generous with my own intentions and unforgiving of someone else's impact.

The things I do because “that's just how I am.”

Sometimes knowing yourself means recognizing your strengths.

Sometimes it means recognizing your stuff.

And self-awareness isn't particularly useful if I only use it to describe myself.

At some point, what I know about myself has to be allowed to challenge me.

That's uncomfortable because we're often much better at explaining ourselves than examining ourselves.

We know why we reacted that way.

We know what they did first.

We know what we've been through.

We know what we meant.

We know why our response made sense.

And sometimes all of that is true.

But explanation and accountability can exist at the same time.

My history can explain a behavior without making the behavior healthy.

My intentions can be good while my impact is harmful.

My feelings can be valid while my conclusion is wrong.

My boundaries can be necessary while the way I communicate them needs work.

I can understand myself and still challenge myself.

Maybe that's what being true to yourself actually requires.

Not unquestioning loyalty to every thought, feeling, habit, and reaction that comes from you.

Honesty.

Enough honesty to ask:

Is that really what happened, or is that the story I told myself about what happened?

Is this actually a boundary, or am I avoiding something?

Am I protecting my peace, or protecting myself from being challenged?

Is this who I am, or is this something I've gotten very good at defending?

Those questions aren't always comfortable.

But perhaps comfort was never the point.

“To thine own self be true” doesn't have to mean agreeing with yourself all the time.

Sometimes being true to yourself means being the person willing to tell you what nobody else can.

You might be wrong about this.

You owe an apology.

You're making an excuse.

That hurt you, but it doesn't get to excuse what you're doing now.

You need to look at this again.

And maybe that's one of the deepest forms of self-respect.

Not thinking you're always right.

Not constantly criticizing yourself either.

But trusting yourself enough to withstand your own honesty.

Because there is a difference between accepting yourself and excusing yourself.

There is a difference between knowing yourself and defending yourself.

And there is a difference between being true to yourself...

and being willing to tell yourself the truth.

Maybe we need both.

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Welcome to the Journey.