I'm nearly 35 (as of 9-14, but when the summer hits, I always round up). And mostly every day for the past year, I feel (to quote Augusten Burroughs) like the sun has come up only to humiliate me. You see, I've discovered this concept called, "Honesty". Is it ON-esty, or HAhn-esty? It's a soft H, I think. In any case, I've been dishing it out like soup at a food kitchen. And, sadly, not a whole lot of people seems to like my soup. To keep speaking in analogy, it's usually spit out or dumped on the floor. Sometimes that's humiliating, because - to keep it going - when you dish out soup, you think the person is going to like it, or you wouldn't have offered it. Sometimes, it's like "You don't like my soup? Fine. I'll give it to someone who does."
The un-welcome response to my truth soup has left me feeling confused, and quite frankly, a little crazy. Doesn't anyone want my soup? It's free!
So, when the sun comes up, there's a 99% chance that I'm going to feel like I wish it hadn't. How does one respond to this feeling? Well, lately, I've been having little talks with myself. Sometimes I'll take myself to the bathroom and look me in the mirror and admit the truth and not back away from it. Sometimes I'll be in the car, alone, and tell myself that honesty is healthy and a natural emotion to want to share. Sometimes I sit myself down on my bed, pat myself on the back and tell myself that it's ok to be honest, even if the honesty isn't welcomed, because that's how you find out the other person's truth.
These little talks with myself make the after effects a little easier to take. "Don't worry, you. You're doing everything right. Don't run away from the truth. Embrace it, and share it, regardless of the cost." After that I put on my "I'm not crazy, everyone else is" t-shirt, and eat a bowl of soup.