Truth, not pretense in relationships
My 5-year-old twin grandsons, Zachary and Connor, are at our condo for a slee-over. Somewhere between dinner and bedtime, as they’re building Lego castles, Connor cries out, “Zach hit me!”
“Why, what I ask.
He doesn’t answer, just cries louder and runs off to isolate himself in my bedroom. Zachary shrugs and continues building.
I give them some space while trying to finagle the den sofa into their bed. Not 10 minutes later, Connor emerges and Zachary greets him with a hug and an “I’m sorry, brother.” Connor replies, “We need to talk.”
Wearing pajamas with shark faces staring out from the tops and mismatched bottoms, they climb up on the couch, now bed, and sit cross-legged facing one another.
Zachary begins: “I’m sorry I hit you, but you really annoyed me. I was playing with the Legos first and you took the pieces I needed.” “I’m sorry.” “I know, but it hurts my feelings. Ever since I got up this morning all you’ve done is annoy me. You keep annoying, annoying, annoying, and I’m tired of it.”
Dutifully chastened, Connor apologizes, “I’m sorry.” “OK, brother. I love you.” I am struck by the unfiltered honesty of their exchange. I wonder, as adults, why we no longer talk so openly? Why do we hesitate to share our genuine feelings? We want to be understood yet fail to expose our truths. We want to understand, yet, are often dismissed with a “whatever.”
In a world of superficiality and disingenuousness, many of us are desperate for authenticity. We are tired of public figures who manipulate, leverage, strategize and maneuver. We are sick of advertising urging us to look like someone we are not, to get rid of our wrinkles and age spots; tuck our tummies and chins. We shake our heads when the shallowest values earn the highest ratings on TV. We want more than Hollywood secrets and “love” that is found through staged competitions.
If we cannot find authenticity in the world at large — we must find it from other people. However, it is challenging to develop genuine relationships when we communicate by email, text, tweet or posts; when emotions are shared by “likes,” “LOLs” and emoji.
When we do talk, it’s by cell, and we’re usually driving or otherwise multitasking. Face-to-face exchanges are rare. And, when they happen, there is always an iPhone on the table waiting to disrupt the flow of conversation.
Technology aside, we are more comfortable sharing trivialities than truths. We chat about the O’s and favorite restaurants but dare not mention fear of aging or fear of failure. We are not sure what or how much to disclose, so we err on keeping our feelings close to the chest.
We avoid risking vulnerability by not divulging our truths. “I don’t care where we go to dinner” is easier than “can we try to make it inexpensive?” “Nothing is wrong” is easier than “I feel like you’re ignoring me.”
Unfortunately, by keeping emotional distance, we end up having more “friends” but fewer friendships. We cheat ourselves of the chance to give and receive understanding. It is much more satisfying when we replace the “how are you doing” interactions with the “how are you doing — really?” conversations.
There are many opportunities to develop more meaningful relationships — we just need to be willing to try. For example, if someone asks, “Where is your son going to college?” instead of simply answering “Maryland,” we could muster the nerve to add, “I’m dreading becoming an empty nester.” Then, it is up to the other person to empathize, validate, diminish or ignore. Either way, we have initiated an authentic conversation that, depending on the other person’s response, could lead to a rich encounter.
In our fast-paced world of rhetoric and frivolity, we crave relationships based on truth — not pretense. We need honesty to process our fears, hopes, struggles and dreams. What if we allowed more friends and family to be confidantes and more acquaintances to be friends? What if we expressed our feelings openly (at least more often than we do now) and strove for authenticity? What if, whether with the innocence of a 5-year-old or the courage of an adult, we could say, “You hurt my feelings”? (Shark pajamas optional). happened?”