The Ugly Truth

Note: I've been sitting on this post for a while now because I wasn't sure if I really wanted to say all this once I got it out of my system by typing it out. But I'm busy here in the land of Bono, and I figured this would be a good post for y'all to chew on while I get myself situated and work out some kind of schedule. I haven't proofread it in over a month, so I can't vouch for its total quality but I do recall being mostly happy with it last time I read through it. So, here goes. No rotten fruit, please.




A preface: I’m probably going to sound like a hypocrite here. I am not always sweetness and light in my blog, and I don’t doubt that I have said unkind things or passed judgment on others. I won’t try to defend myself here – there’s no excuse for unkindness, and all I can say is that obedience is a process, and that I’m grateful for a God who allows me to repent of my mistakes. Every day when I wake up I choose what kind of person I am going to be. I only hope that it’s apparent in my writing that I am choosing to be a kinder, gentler, more mature version of myself – a truer disciple of Christ than I was the day before. I plan to take all of my own advice given below.

That said, I offer the following observations that have, of late, left me feeling unsettled.

Lately, on a number of blogs, I’ve seen a lot of nastiness and defensiveness and judgment. It’s been done with a certain self-righteous, sanctimonious attitude. “I’m just being honest,” many bloggers will say. “If you don’t like it, tough crap.”

I’m not going to argue with that. There’s nothing I can do about sentiments I disagree with. And I’m certainly not going to argue the honesty point. These bloggers are certainly being honest. But what I take issue with is the fact that nastiness and rudeness is being excused because it’s given under the guise of honesty. We are commanded to be honest in our dealings with our fellow men, certainly. But we are not commanded to be nasty, to hurt feelings, to call names, to find fault, or to assign blame. Quite the opposite, in fact – the aim of being honest is to avoid hurt feelings and nastiness and defensiveness. There’s something called tact, and something else called kindness, and I think that both can be just as important as honesty.

As a teenager, I was wisely counseled to consider the following before repeating a morsel of gossip:
1. Is it kind?
2. Is it true?
3. Is it necessary?

I think it’s worth noting that the first criterion is not honesty. It’s kindness. The truth can hurt, and in some cases can even scar the recipient. I also appreciate that the third item is necessity. I love this quote from Elder Dallin H. Oaks: “The fact that something is true is not always a justification for communicating it.” (source)

I know that I’d do well to remember that, myself! Believe me, the irony of today’s post isn’t lost on me – I’m criticizing others for being critical. I hope it’s clear that I’m not writing this for the sake of being critical. I’m writing as a concerned citizen. I don’t think people realize how damaging their words can be. Even words said sarcastically or in jest can do lasting harm. I can remember very clearly almost every cruel thing that has ever been said to me. My youngest brother made a thoughtless comment about my eating habits when I was nine years old, and I have never forgotten exactly what he said, or how I felt when he said it.

We live in a society where it’s cute and funny to be mean or sarcastic. Rudeness and cruelty masquerade as comedy in the media. Jokes are never made for the sake of humor itself but are rather made at the expense of someone else. Critical words are what constitute comedy on television, and not just in shows for grown-ups. More than once, my jaw has dropped at the subtle nastiness (again, disguised as honesty) in some of the shows my 7-year-old niece watches. Even in programs for very young children, there is a bully or a villain. Cruelty is employed as a literary device to further plot and character development. I worry about what messages my little nieces and nephews are getting from the shows they watch. I take comfort in knowing that they have good parents to teach them correct principles regardless of what is shown on TV.

I’m deviating from my main point a bit here, but as long as I am, allow me to give another quote that I love, this one from N. Eldon Tanner: “The tongue is the most dangerous, destructive, and deadly weapon available to man.” (source) The saying “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me” always puzzled me as a child. Sticks and stones gave only glancing blows. Words hurt me much worse than any physical attack. And words say as much about the speaker as they do about what’s spoken. Indulge me a moment, I’ve found another quote. John S. Tanner said, “We are judged by our words every day. Nothing reveals us so intimately as how we use our divine gift of speech. Are we mean, crude, irreverent, thoughtless, smug, self-righteous, pompous? Our tongues will tell. Our language, too, reveals much about our integrity, honesty, kindness, goodness, humility, and decency. Language reveals character.” (source)

Anyway, back to honesty.

I hope I don’t sound like I’m advocating sophistry. Honesty is vital. It is crucial, and sadly lacking in so much of the world. It is precious. I think that’s what gets me so riled up – people are abusing it, and using it to excuse poor behavior, rudeness, cruelty, and a sense of personal superiority. To that, I offer this humble plea: please don’t. If you want to rant or whine or complain or dig your claws into someone, go ahead. That’s your right; you have agency. But please, please, please don’t do so under the guise of honesty. Don’t pretend that you’re doing what you do or saying what you say because you “want to” or “need to be honest.” Because you do need to be honest! You need to be honest about your motives and your mood and your purpose and your point.

I won’t pretend to speak for anyone else, but I appreciate it when people are open about those things. I know what I’m getting into. I know to expect a little bile, a little vitriol, a little moodiness. I always feel like I’ve been assaulted when I read something that begins with “I need to be honest about something” and ends with a scathing criticism. I've tried to state outright if I'm simply ranting or complaining, and I will certainly endeavor to do so in the future as well.

So, gentle reader, be honest if you must, but leave honesty as an excuse out of it. Please?

A Word to the Wise

I found this on Twitter today and I love it! I'm not sure if this is an actual Walt Disney quote or if it's like the 1,275 quotes on the internet being attributed to Dr. Seuss, none of which he actually said.

Whoever said it, I like it :o)

"You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you." -- Walt Disney

Plans, Part Two

So, apparently I was wrong for referring to my trip to Ireland as a consolation prize. Apparently my attitude about that was spoiled and ungrateful, and if that was the sort of thing I considered to be a consolation prize, I didn't deserve it.

Well, here's the thing. It's not a matter of deserving it. It's not a matter of luck, either. I'm going on this trip because I paid for it, simple as that. And if it were a matter of deserving it, I think I do.

Two years ago, I was planning a trip to Scotland. I was going with a small tour group and I was going to leave on July ... 14th, I think. I was going to be there for two weeks at the end of July 2009. I'd scrimped and saved every penny I could from my job and I'd paid all but about $800 of what the trip was going to cost (minus airfare, which I was still saving up for).

Then, of course, I got pregnant. And they told me I was due on June 30th. I knew that, even if by some slim chance I delivered on my due date, and if I chose adoption, there was no way I'd be ready to travel thousands of miles and traipse about the Scottish countryside. I'd be too exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

It was with a heavy heart that I canceled my plans. And it was with an even heavier heart that I was told by the travel agent that, of the $1500 I'd paid, only $325 would be returned to me because I hadn't canceled soon enough. Not only was I not going on my trip, but I was down $1200 I'd never see again. I knew exactly how many hours of work that $1200 represented, and even now the thought of that lost money makes me want to weep. I have never been a spoiled princess. I've worked hard for what I have. $1200 might not be a lot of money to some people but to me it was a small fortune, and it was gone.

Quite a bit of my depression during my pregnancy resulted from the loss of my trip and my money. I was devastated to be out that kind of money. I still am. I threw away all the travel information I'd collected for the trip. I thought at that point that I could never choose adoption, and so I thought to myself that I would likely never leave the country unless it was a few days in Canada to visit my brother.

And I learned to be okay with that. After all, I told myself, I've got my baby. But now I don't. I had the thought yesterday that I didn't care how many people were jealous of my trip, or how quote-unquote lucky I am to be going. I'd rather spend the month of June chasing after an 11-month-old than touring Irish castles. That's what I meant when I said that Ireland isn't what I want most, but it's what I can have, and so I'm taking it.

I spent last June counting down the last days of my pregnancy, getting ready for my baby and swimming for an hour most evenings. I know that if I stayed in town, I'd be thinking about that all month - thinking about it, and missing the excited impatience of being an expectant mother. I think it'll be good to be out of town - out of the country, even. It's not the trip I had planned. But this isn't the life I had planned - not ten years ago, not five years ago, and not even one year ago. It's so rare that life turns out the way we planned it.

But I'm going to try to make the most of things as they've turned out. I didn't get to go to Scotland as planned. Roo is worth a lifetime of trips to Scotland. I wouldn't trade her for a trip for anything in the known universe. She was worth staying home for. She was worth losing $1200. I became a better person when she was born and again when I placed her, and I can't put a price on that.

I'm looking forward to buying a birthday gift for Roo in Ireland. I'm looking forward to her birthday, whether I see her that day or not, because I think the world is a better place with her in it, and that's something to celebrate.

I Needed a Laugh

I've got a folder on my computer that's nothing but funny pictures. If I ever need a laugh, or cheering up, or want to make food come out of my mom's nose, I look through it and see what I can find.

I needed a laugh earlier this week, and I found one of my favorites. The blank spot is where I took out a naughty word.



I feel much better now.

Plans

I'm leaving for Ireland on the 29th. I'll be there for a month. I'm looking forward to it, although I am nervous.

I mentioned my trip to a few people the other day. Someone said, "I guess you get to do all kinds of cool stuff now since you gave your baby away for adoption."

I wanted to smack them. First off, because I did NOT "give her away." I didn't put an ad for her on Craigslist. I PLACED her. I gave her the world because I love her. And second, I didn't place Roo because she was interfering with my plans. I never look at things like, Oh, look at all the things I can do now that I don't have to take care of my baby.

I would so much rather have Roo than any trip anywhere on earth. I would trade my trip for her in a heartbeat. But I can't. I wasn't meant to be her mama. I'd rather have Roo than Ireland. But I can't have Roo. And so I'm going to Ireland. Everything like this that I do, every trip, every good thing, is a consolation prize. It's what I have because I can't have her. Because I wasn't meant to have her.

I don't regret placing her. Never. I know beyond any doubt that Roo is where God wanted her to be. Placing my baby was the most gut-wrenching, excruciatingly painful thing I've ever done. I could never have done it for any reason other than love.

I miss her, yes. But I'm allowed to make plans. I'm allowed to do things, to live my life, to get out of the house every once and a while. It's a poor substitute, but it's all I've got, and I'm going to make the best of it.

It's Late ...

... and I miss Roo something awful - something terribly, horribly awful. I miss her so bad I feel like I'm just going to shatter.

Sometimes being a birth mom sucks worse than anything else on earth. It's an ache that never goes away, no matter how badly you wish it would. I know that for a fact. I've spent hours now trying to wish away the pain and it's still here.

That's all for now.