It’s not that I’m a liar. I just sometimes live outside the whole truth. In the great state of Denial, I like to say.
If I look at my life like a big house and my “state of denial” kinda like a room in a house. A room that’s been locked up for a long long time. In my memory, the room is in fine shape. The room is foundational to the style and mood of the rest of the house. The room is organized in my memory. It’s pretty and feels light and airy.
But then one day, out of nowhere, the door to the room stands open and I tentively tip toe inside. To my complete horror, the room is in complete disarray. Complete disrepair. Not at all like I remember it. I stand there and take it in and I hate the room. Why? Well the room has disappointed me. Depressed me. And in a few hours I find I’m feeling negative about the whole house. I see my entire house differently. The lights are suddenly bright and showing all the flaws, I find that sadly, I not only hate the room, I hate the house too.
And yes, the house is my life.
Anyhoo, that’s where I find myself today. Looking at things honestly is not always easy and certainly not fun. But maybe in the end I needed to see things as they really are before I can make things the way I really want them…