The catch and the rub though, is that it does! Whether I admit something into the forefront of my consciousness or not, it is still operational in the energy of my being. It nags and nettles until I have to look. Denial gets me nothing but sick. It takes a lot of courage to be honest all across the board at all times, with myself, with others, and with all of the currents of my life. I can pretend to be "fine," to be aok with everything, but whatever is not aok in reality will rub at me until I accept it into my vision and consideration. The truth is never particularly complicated, but it is usually scary to look at because it admits my vulnerability and all of my shortcomings. To admit that I am unsure, or jealous, or bitter, or anything less than totally generous and loving makes me look bad- or so I often think.
But maybe my vulnerabilities are actually beautiful in some way, even as they expose my insecurities. I can be petty and small-minded and resentful and a grand internal martyr at times. But I can also be hugely loving and compassionate and encouraging and generous. Both sides exist in me in varying measures. I must admit to them both. If I deny the aspects of my character that I don't like so much, they will grow bigger. If I refuse to see them, they will have to get louder and cast bigger shadows until I do. But if I allow them, they have a chance to lessen and transform in the gentle light of my own compassion for my own self. It's ok to feel what I feel.
In the final analysis, perfection is boring. It's the imperfect that elicits empathy and compassion and understanding and love, in myself as well as others. So I'm going to admit to my imperfections. I'm going to live a see-through life and not pretend I'm somehow better or healthier or tougher than I am.
I give myself permission to be exactly who I am.