The Power of Truth: What if, Feeling Free, and Momma Bear

“Don’t be so hard on yourself when you write,” said one of my best friends a few minutes ago. “Please be unfiltered, crazy-good-shenanigans, morning-pages-style Amber,” she said. “Just let it out.”
Hmm. Interesting. I didn’t realize I was being hard on myself. In fact, I didn’t realize I wasn’t “letting it out.”
But wait, am I being easy on myself? Am I letting it out?
Shit. No. Not really. She’s totally right.
This has me wondering… has my recent writing truly reflected what I’ve been feeling and experiencing deep down? Or, have I been afraid to let stream-of-consciousness Amber out? Interesting.
To be honest, I’ve been keeping it pretty safe. My friend’s right… I need to let go. I need to be naked. I need to let my instincts guide my writing. Damn, this is what best friends and radical honestly are for. I love when this shit comes back full circle.
On that note… my post on Tuesday left out a significant part of my “radical honesty” story. In fact, every time I read Tuesday’s post, it makes me cringe a little bit. As much as it encompasses this direct and blunt side of me, it completely leaves out the deeply compassionate and loving side. And to me, honesty lies at the intersection of truth and compassion.
The mention of my Mom, in particular, is what makes me sad. In the last post, I talk about how her plumber story was boring. And yes, even though her plumber story was deeply boring, that interaction captures 1% of our relationship. Maybe even .05%. The honest story to tell is that we FaceTime every morning. I’m always in bed, under the covers, wrapped up in pillows and blankets, and almost always naked. We laugh, we smile, we share deep secrets and feelings, and sometimes we cry. It’s always a magical and uplifting start to my day. My mom completes me. She is my best friend. Our candidness and ability to express deep and honest feelings makes me believe in the power of truth. She is truth. My truth.
Truth is something we are often so scared to express. Or, actually, it’s something I’ve often been so scared to express. What if the truth hurts me? What if I hurt someone else? What if… What if… What if… Fuck what if. I cannot control what if… I can only control and live what is.
This past week, ironically or not so ironically, I’ve been confronted with several opportunities for radical honesty. I decided to lean into that edge and keep it real. In every instance, I felt more alive, I feel more free, I felt more nakedly me. I immediately stopped focusing on the outcome or ending and became so completely content with the process. The discovery. The opportunity for more depth and connection. The moment. Yes. The moment is what feels right. This is what life is all about.
So what’s the big deal with being honest? Hmm… well… the times when honesty becomes scary for me is only when I fear that it might hurt someone else. Or me. I hate disappointing others. I hate disappointing me. I’m often scared that by expressing my true feelings, I’ll push someone or something exciting away. But then I wonder, is that really the problem? WIll honesty push someone away or will it bring what’s right closer to me in the long-term? I’d like to believe in the latter. (I do believe in the latter.)
A close friend recently expressed to me how “trusting your gut” is a signal. It’s not something to be understood or analyzed. It’s just a feeling to be trusted. I feel like truth is the same way. When you can be deeply honest with someone, that’s a signal. It’s not something to be understood or analyzed. It’s just a feeling and experience to be trusted.
Who are you most honest with?













