Truth

Truth: what is it?

I have a quote on the mirror in my bedroom that says: “Truth is looking at everything for the first time, every time.”

I don’t always understand it, but I know it’s true.

As a recovering “whatever,” I know how important truth is. None of my family has ever admitted that I might be right about the sexual abuse I suffered as a child by my father. One member even said point blank that he thought I was a victim of therapy-induced memories. Another member claimed I was lying when I related a statement that my older brother said to me. She claimed that it must be because I was angry.

So, is that really a good reason to lie? Is there ever a good reason to lie? I don’t think so, but I read all the Jane Austin books (and loved them) and in order to preserve polite society, folks in the Regency era would “dissemble” or, maybe, “prevaricate.” I think today we call this telling white lies. And yes I can go for that. Nobody wants to be told that they have not yet developed a cool sensibility for style when they’re going out on a very important date. Or …

But there are things that you can never lie about. Important, solid, serious things. Things that affect people’s lives. That is never right. That’s how I feel, and have always felt, and I thought that my family should automatically know that that is how I feel and have always felt. But it didn’t work that way, and I have no way of knowing if there would have been any difference in their reactions if I had told them this important part of my character. Honestly. The fact of the matter is that nobody asked. That’s the rub. This unbelievable thing coming out of my mouth… and nobody wanted to know why I would say something like this. They just made assumptions that were wrong.

That’s why I like wolves so much. They don’t lie. Well, except there’s a special circumstance where they try very hard to lie. That’s when they have tucked away a piece of carcass, buried nearby and they don’t want anyone else to know about it. Wolves can fill their bellies with about twenty-five pounds of meat and they can go for a couple of weeks without eating. Obviously, these are adaptations to the boom or bust nature of being a predator. But wolves are opportunists. They will always try to optimize their own welfare and then the welfare of their pack. They are not above saving a bit of nourishment for themselves.

But, seriously they are not good at lying. Their eyes keep darting over to their cache and all wolves are very attentive to eye movement. I see the same thing in my dog, in the middle-school boys hovering in the corner of the room during independent study and looking over their shoulders at me. Such bad liars. And I’m not sure that I want them or the wolves or adult humans or myself to get better at it. In fact, I like this kind of failure, a little endearing.

To this day, the reaction of my family has made it harder for me to process and grieve. I actually felt a little crazy at times. As a result, I probably spent more than ten times the time I might have spent if I had had at least one family member corroborate my truth. But process and grieve I have done despite the deathlike quiet from my family, and I have been proud of myself for persevering against all odds.

And I’m still learning… truth can not be taken for granted.