Truly...

This week I’ve got the truth on the brain. I’m all for the truth—I think people should tell it, and embrace it, and love it. I much prefer being around people who aren’t afraid to tell the truth and tell it straight. I often say I would much rather know the hard truth than have to find out for myself. When the Cat Daddy was going through missile training this summer, my good friend whose husband had been a missileer told me stories about their experiences and you know what? Being a missileer is hard. It’s a hard job that’s hard on the family. At times she would be apologetic and say “I hope I’m not scaring you too much. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you so much,” but I said, “Oh no, I would much rather know what to really expect going in.” I meant it then, and I’ve been grateful ever since. It doesn’t keep me from fussing about the hard things, but it’s that much less painful to have known what was coming. I really think it makes it easier to adjust, and adapt, and other such things you learn in “Who Moved My Cheese?”

The problem is that, as much as I value the truth and straight talk, when it comes to telling the hard or unpleasant truth, I have a really hard time just coming out with it. Even with straight talk I do think there’s value in being as sensitive as possible, and since I do not have the natural gift of tact, I often take time to consider my words carefully. Problem is, I can overdo it and go from telling the truth in love to beating around the bush or avoiding the hard parts altogether.

In fact, twice within the past week the Cat Daddy has said to me, on separate occasions, “Skerrib, don’t be afraid to tell the truth.” To which I winced and replied, “I don’t know how to say it,” and he said, “Just say the facts. They are just the facts; they are neutral. People’s responses are up to them.”

See, this is why I love the Cat Daddy. He is so smart!

Sometimes I remember all of this, and can speak up and say hard things when necessary. But not always, and especially during times of major transition. Which would be this entire year. Meh.

This is because I have issues. “What’s that,” you say, “you, Skerrib? You have issues? No!!!” I know, I know, but it’s true. I often underestimate people, and worry that they won’t be able to handle hearing the straight truth. Having encountered this at points along the way, for some reason I assume it’s true of everyone.

Which it’s not, and I know that’s the case…but something about transition makes me go all random. Which means that issues tend to resurface during these times, and have to be dealt with again (and again, and again, and again…). Meh.

I’m tired these days, I think, from the transitions that just won’t quit. I did know this sort of thing was coming. Our last year and a half or so in Mass was a time of rest. Obviously there were changes—His Highness being the biggest one—but for whatever reason it was a calm season in life. I knew it at the time, and I enjoyed it, because I also knew that it would only last for a time. So like I mentioned before, I’m not shocked or caught off-guard, or anything. Just tired.

I do know from experience that my energy will come back. Not to sound pessimistic--because I really am not being pessimistic—but that will probably happen sometime around next summer. In the meantime though, when I get tired, life gets trimmed to the basics. Eat. Sleep. Exercise. Keep the kid and dogs alive. Don’t blow up or burn down the house. And tell the truth, even when it’s hard.

Write that down, kids…