The Truth of the Matter

by Carrie Pålsson

I come from a long line of people-pleasers. I know many women are programmed to make others happy by hiding their own will under a façade of happy helpfulness, but the women in my family are some of the worst--best?--I've seen.

My grandmother lives her life in fear of angering friends and random strangers alike. The contractor she hired to do some house painting turned out to be crooked and she ended up missing several big-ticket items from her garage. She refused to report him to the police or take any other action against him because he might "throw rocks through the window!" He didn't make such a threat, but it was such a real possibility in her mind that she let herself get walked all over just to avoid his potential wrath.

My mother is less fearful, but she was raised under the thumb of my grandma and suffers from a low self-esteem thanks to a lifetime of hearing that making someone mad could lead to dire results. She suffers needlessly at both work and home, afraid that if she stands up for herself, life as she knows it will fall apart. Most of these fears are unspecified and unfounded, but I know she walks around with a knot in her stomach, worried that someone will dislike her and do something to harm her should she fail to keep them happy.

My sister runs herself ragged trying to please the people in her life. She plans elaborate parties and purchases extravagant gifts. She does every thing in her power to take care of other people, but can't see the value in relaxing and taking care of herself. Are the people she strives to help grateful? Do they return the favor? Very rarely. They use her up and spit her out because they know she won't stand up for herself. She's too afraid.

Then there's me.

I used to be a people-pleaser. I used to tell people what they wanted to hear. I could always be depended upon to outwardly support a friend's madcap plan to travel to Belize in an old VW bus even if I was inwardly sure the plan would lead to a breakdown on the side of an isolated, unfriendly road. If you wanted an ego boost, I was your girl. I'd nod sympathetically as my friends told me about their latest relationship troubles and never once suggested that maybe, just maybe, they had the teensiest bit of responsibility in the situation. After all, if I made someone mad they might throw rocks through my window! Or lightening might strike me dead! The chances of either happening were slim to none, but the thought of being honest when my honesty would uncover a less-than-pleasant truth was enough to send me into a panic. How could I look someone in the eye and tell them something that might hurt their feelings? I couldn't. It was that simple.

Then I entered the real world--I became a high school teacher.

Slowly, I realized that people who tell unpleasant truths are not beaten with billy clubs and left to die in a gutter. In fact, people who are honest and up front are often respected and sometimes even feared. I began to understand that people like me, the "yes men" of the world, were under the rule of the people who weren't afraid to tell the truth and express their desires.

I didn't much care for that thought.

While I still show consideration for the feelings of others and use diplomacy when I can, I've stopped the simpering. No longer will I give a friend a free pass on a plan that is bound to fail. I'll lay out my concerns and can feel good about being the voice of reason when a friend suddenly decides that having an affair could be exciting.

Just recently I joined a group for new mothers and, as is bound to happen in a large group of women, fur started to fly. One of the women called and wanted me to participate in secret group meetings. The old me would have had a sickening sinking feeling in my gut as I agreed that it was a great idea! Why not have a secret club! It would be so fun!

The new me cut right to the heart of the matter. I told the woman that secrets never stay secret and I didn't want any part in such a plan. Instead of walking around sick to my soul for weeks, fearing that secrets would be revealed, I had a two-minute confrontation that left me feeling proud for refusing to participate in catty little games.

The truth, it didn't hurt.

I've always heard that the truth will set you free, but I never understood what that meant. Finally, though, I am starting to understand. When I tell the truth I don't have to worry and hide and feel sick. I don't have to school my face into an appropriate expression that is at diametric odds with my heart. Finally, I am free to be me. Finally, I can speak my mind without fear.

The truth has set me free--free from a life of fear.

As you read through this issue of Truth or Consequences, I hope you'll take a few moments to ponder the times in your life when honesty has served you well and the times when honesty has left you facing harsh consequences. I hope the former outweighs the latter, since we all know the truth can sometimes come with consequences that we don't deserve. In the end, though, I think we can all agree that a life of truth is easier to live and is more empowering than a life filled with lies, even well-intentioned lies.