Born into an environment where secrecy and lies were the norm, I began my career as a liar early. It's impossible to remember when I began hiding, obfuscating, and outright fibbing, but it came to me as easily as talking.
Because I was raised Catholic, religion played a large part in my thinking. The god I was taught to believe in wasn't someone I felt I could hang out with on a daily basis. Instead, I ducked and dodged Him, speaking to Him only when I was in a jam ("God, please don't let me get busted with this pot in my glove compartment!"). I didn't like the idea of a god to begin with, especially one who resembled Charlton Heston and who kept threatening to smite me for all my evil machinations. Just about everything I did or said was a mortal sin, according to the Pope and his minions, so I figured it was only a matter of time before the shit hit the fan and I would be facing 25 to eternity in some kind of burning pit. My mother told me about St. Jude, who is allegedly the patron saint of Lost Causes. I figured he was my "out card", should I have come before the Big Guy and plead my case. Law and Order: Heaven's Attorney.
There was a therapist I saw, during one of my many brief attempts at self-examination, named Dr. Weiner. He was a lovely old man, and very patient. During one of our sessions, he broached the idea that I could change the way I feel and think about people and things, and that it was really my own responsibility to do so. I was appalled! WHAT? I CAN CHANGE HOW I FEEL AND THINK!? YOU'RE KIDDING ME, RIGHT?! It was a completely foreign thought, quickly discarded in the face of my own selfishness and fear. Wait a minute---You mean if my husband is being a total jerk and making me feel awful, I'M SUPPOSED TO CHANGE ME??? WHAT ABOUT HIM, HUH??? WHY DOESN'T HE CHANGE???
The very idea! That I'M supposed to change---not those around me. Baloney! I wrestled with this notion for years. It's not my fault! I'm not to blame! They're being assholes! He's a jerk! Waaaaaaaah! Somebody make them STOP!
In my late thirties, I crashed. Physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. The nadir of my existence. It was then that the process of maturity began. I liken my crash to the passage in "The Right Stuff" where a pilot is described going down with his plane and hollering into the radio: "I've tried A! I've tried B! What do I do?!" Whump! That was me. I went down in flames, hollering that I'd tried everything and nothing was working. Whump! I woke up amidst the wreckage to find that I was still alive, but empty and void of ideas. Thus, the journey began all over again. Only this time, I found the right path to walk upon.
These days, I don't have to fight honesty and personal responsibility. As distasteful as it might feel to admit I'm wrong, I do it nearly automatically. Occasionally, I still need prompting, but for the most part, I'm on it. It isn't that I've become a paragon of truth and that I never lie---that isn't real. What's changed is the inner dialogue and outer behavior. I try, on a daily basis, to be truthful with myself and others. When someone does me wrong, I take a look inward to see if I have somehow brought this on myself by my own actions or words. If it turns out I'm in the clear, then I have to let go of the whole "I'll get even with YOU!" attitude which pervaded my earlier thinking. I cannot change people, places, and things---only my own outlook upon them. Sometimes it's a pain in the tush to have to do so much self-examination, and I occasionally rebel and lapse into childish fits of "I DON'T WANNA!", but it always comes back to me: I gotta change my thinking.
The whole god thing changed right along with my thinking. I let go of the previous version of a Supreme Being and adopted one who accepts me the way I am, flaws and all, and won't send me to purgatory for being a miscreant. It isn't everyone's cup of tea as far as a spiritual philosophy, but it works for me. Being a science buff, I accept that everyone's DNA is entirely unique. If I'm going to believe in a deity who started this whole life process, then I'm going to assume that He/She/It loves uniqueness, and as such, doesn't require that all of us think the same way. That's my hypothesis, and I'm sticking to it.
Honestly.
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