Sugarcoating, part one *

June 26, 2012 § Leave a comment

I was going to start writing in here something about how I haven’t done any candidly raw writing in such a long time, but then I read my last note (not published on Everchase) and decided that perhaps that wasn’t very true.  With the exception of that one, I feel like it has been a long time since I’ve done any good honest writing.

The problem with honesty is that people generally don’t want to hear it; not raw honesty.  No one wants to hear how you really think or feel.  They will ask you but expect you to be respectful, reasonable and/or polite about it.  No one wants to hear their ass looks fat (as opposed to “curvy” or “not bad”) or that they’re lazy (instead of unmotivated or slipping behind) or that they can’t measure up to this person or that person (“it’s not that he/she is doing a better job than you; you’re just doing things differently”).  We learn to sugarcoat things – not always a bad habit, but a habit nonetheless.  We are thoughtful and respectful, considerate and tactful.  We don’t want to hurt them which may be valid and genuine, however we are often doing the sugarcoating to save or protect our own bacon.  Fearing the backlash is enough to make any sane man think twice about someone has a fat ass.

The problem with sugarcoating is that it often becomes more than just a habit – it becomes who you are, how you speak to people, how you reason.  The problem with sugarcoating is that you eventually transition from consideration to flat out sacrifice.

Take me, for example.

I can’t remember the last time I bitched about being a step-parent.  This is not because being a step-parent has suddenly become easy.  This is not because I stopped worrying or caring about all the things I used to bitch about.  It’s because I was considerate – mostly of my then partner/fiancee and how he would feel or react to my bitching, venting, exploring or otherwise.  Which at the time was okay; I was happy to suck it up, plaster a fucking smile on my face and soldier on if it meant that (1) we didn’t fight and (2) I didn’t hurt him (purposely or inadvertently).

What I am only just discovering is that this ultimately leads to pain of a different type, along with a sense of loneliness and a seed of resentment (and oh, how we love resentment!).

(to be continued…)


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