So yesterday’s post threw up all kinds of conversations one of which was with a Pure O person who said that for them, truth was a medical matter, they had an obsession with it, and had been through a phase when if they weren’t telling everything in their head then they were lying. Truth, lies and shame were so enmeshed that to not speak each thought was unbearable. They leaned on the word confess - that’s what it was for them, the need to confess everything. 100% honesty meant spilling their guts, a position that seeped into the idea of respect, clouding it. This is the dead cat as gift. What they thought was doing the right thing turned out to be a corpse for the other person. For a time they were in relationship with someone who said tell me everything and this open-door policy brought relief for a while though it didn’t solve the bigger problem. Those dead cats on the kitchen table piled up, the source of intrusive thoughts is a bottomless pit, there will always be more. And the relief they experienced in not being shamed for all their weirdness did nothing to pull the enmeshment of truth, lies and shame apart. What interests me is this line - if I don’t tell you what I’m thinking, I’m lying. Because we all - can I speak for everyone?! - I, anyway, have a version of this though I’m not Pure O or OCD or on the A-Typical spectrum. Say I’m convinced you hate me, or you’ve pissed me off but I still have to interact with you. Say my C-PTSD tells me if I don’t sort this out I’m dead. What do I do with these thoughts that are shouting one thing while my face and mouth are saying another. Am I lying? Or am I dealing with it? My therapist calls it adopting an air of pleasantness when I have to be in a situation that isn’t wholly where I want to be, and this line is where I’ve come to rest. I’m obsessed with honesty, too. I can’t bear to write something I don’t mean, say something I don’t believe yet the world continues to behave according to itself and I must be in it. I’ve come to understand that these intrusive thoughts are everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. My Pure O friend is unpicking the enmeshment as I pick apart the baselines in my own maddened head. The dead cat is my problem, not yours.
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My mum once told me that she has never, and would never lie to me, and that if i asked her, she would tell me, no matter how dark or weird.
This is a lie. Because she once told me she was going to do some errands, when in fact she was visiting one of her secret lovers
My truth is not anyone else’s and that confuses the issue no end !