preserving the truth with jealous anxiety

Ok so GW and Obama were talking about the nation and shit... but I'm thinking a lot about truth right now.

Telling the truth, asking for the truth, the difference in what the truth is for different people. Living your truth... or not. Living your truth (to keep on theme of mentioning political peeps and quote VP Joe Biden) is "a big fucking deal".

Being honest with yourself and others is paramount. And you should protect and preserve yours with "jealous anxiety" (Thanks, George Washington!). Because if you aren't honest with yourself, it's gonna fuck some shit up. It's not good for you, it's not good for the people around you, and eventually the walls you've built on the foundation of this un-truth are going to come tumbling down. Because that foundation is going to crack. And people will get hurt. Things will be lost, lives will be upended, relationships will fail, friendships will die. It's not pretty.

I've been with someone who recently admitted that he hasn't been living his truth. It is heartbreaking. It's heartbreaking for me because I've been holding the hand of someone who wasn't really who I thought he was. He was going through life with me, supporting me, answering my questions, assuaging my fears, putting the face forward he thought he needed to. But underneath... it wasn't the truth. It wasn't his truth, it wasn't who he truly was/is. That rock I've been holding to just got swept away with the waves, the best friend I thought I had doesn't exist.

It's also heartbreaking because I know that couldn't have been easy. We all have to fake it a little in our every day life- smile at a customer who's being demanding, bite your tongue when your gram calls someone "oriental".... omg. But for your most intimate relationship to be a place where you feel you can't be yourself, your honest self-- that's horrible. The sting of abandonment, rejection and harsh words still pulses like the open wound that it is... but in a way it helps to understand the relief and the rush he has felt. It all still feels impossible, and like a death, but it's something new to chew on.
The other sad thing about it is that the courage to be honest could have prevented this. We could have changed together. Now that option isn't there, the path is covered over with trees and roots and grass and the only option is forward without each other.

And forward is good, and if the truth is we have to be apart, that's good too. It doesn't FEEL good, that's for gd sure. But truth, like life, isn't always easy. It isn't always what we want. Not what we want to do or say or hear. But it is. And it makes a better foundation to start slowly rebuilding on. One brick at a time. Doing my best to keep the anxiety on the outside. Working hard to make sure I'm leaving space for windows and doors and not walling myself off because I'm afraid to trust ever again. Asking for help with the tall bits, the heavy parts and... let's be honest... the math.

It is terrifying and sad to imagine building and moving on without Robert. But as much as he has been a part of me and a part of my life and a part of my family- I am still me. I am a whole person. I am broken, but all my pieces are there and just like my new house, I will put myself back together piece by piece. Taking the opportunity to inspect each bit, shine some of them up, replace parts that might not suit me anymore, but coming out whole on the other side. First I have to cross this flaming bridge of absolute horse shit. But, you know, that doesn't sound as pretty.

Moving forward, preserving and uncovering my truth with jealous mother effing anxiety. And also just some regular anxiety, because... hello... it's me we're talking about.