TBH, it's hard to be honest
And with each year and each new story, the harder it gets
I read somewhere that the whole “what will think if they hear this” mindset goes back to hunter-gatherer times. Being liked, was life and death back then, literally. You wouldn’t stay alive for a long time if you weren't in the herd.
For all the advancements that humans have supposedly made, we sure as hell are primitive beings.
You know what I’d honestly like to talk about, today? My relationship and journey with alcohol. And the obvious yet hard truth, is that I don’t have the courage to do it. Not today. I want to get there, and I really hope I do. But I’m not there, yet.
2023 wasn’t a heavy drinking year for me, I’d managed to restrict it to being on very select occasions with my closest friends and family. And for the last 74 days, I have been a hundred per cent sober.
Yes, I had a sober Christmas and a sober New Year. I have gone from saying “I’m not drinking tonight” to “I don’t drink”.
Like I said, I will go deeper into this another day. But here’s something.
If you’re here, and you’re still reading this, and you’re struggling with your relationship with alcohol, and you need someone to talk to, or to be your accountability buddy, or suggest books or activities, please reach out to me.
If you’re an introvert and you are scared of reaching out, or how to word your message to me, just reply to this email with a "hi” and I’ll reach out.
Alright now, on with the rest.
Recently, I heard this line, about kids’ feelings and something to keep in mind as a parent - “It’s not true, but it’s real.”
And that’s the truest thing about feelings.
There are levels of truths, and stories from my life. What I share (and that in itself seems excruciating, but then I guess vulnerability always is), is the outermost layer. Even my most vulnerable-sounding public-facing story, whether that is a video performance or these newsletters, they’re the tidy version of it.
But that’s what writing always is. It’s the neat stacking of messy life events.
One level further on the inside, we have close friends and family, who get a peek into the mess that is me. But even there, you weigh and evaluate. Do they really need to know this about me? Are they better left alone? Will they look at me differently? You also play Truth Tetris, where you decide which truth stacks neatly against which person, and only grant them the privileged curse of sharing.
Sometimes, the person that the truth hurts to acknowledge is nobody but yourself. And that’s got to be number 1 on the ‘type of truths that I hate’ list.
I want to tell the truth every time I write, but every time, it gets a little harder.
This one newsletter I wrote recently, my girlfriend told me that it made her sad. When I wrote the next one, she finally gauged why. The earlier one was missing my witty, quirky sense of writing. Where I can seem to find the humour in everything.
The messy truth is that there are days that I can’t. She knows that (better than anybody else on this planet), but it still makes her sad. And I always want truth minus the sadness, so I prioritise funny over honest.
The truth is that this above paragraph will make her a little sad too (she’s my number one fan and reader god knows why), but she will still tell me with eyes screaming of honesty - “You know you can write your truth and I will be okay, right?”
The truth is she won’t. And the truth is that I will care that she won’t. So the censor board brain will come to play, come what may.
The truth is that there is so much more that I’d like to tell you.
The truth is that a lot of men (me first) cry from their throat and not their eyes, and throat crying doesn’t get the same level of empathy as eye crying.
The truth is that how much ever money I earn, I won’t walk into a 5-star establishment without my brain screaming “you don’t belong here” at me.
The truth is that on a lot of days that I try really hard, I don’t make it through.
The truth is that we all wish that some things were different, and some things would stay the same.
The truth is that I crave alcohol on my hard days even now, and I am really scared I will give in on of these days.
The truth is, that I can’t tell you a lot of truths, because I am scared that it will hurt the ones I love (especially me, because I’m still new to loving myself).
The truth is, sometimes I’m too scared to be honest.
TBH, though, I won’t stop trying.
Love,
H
I left reading midway to comment here because I feel I will lose my chain of thoughts if I don't comment now. There are many people who say reach out to me for any people, but I saw for the very first time that someone is acknowledging how hard it can be for just to reach out. I have social anxiety, and for the most part of my life, I have experienced how hard it is just to reach out. Thank you for acknowledging that, now I will go back to reading your post which I left midway to comment.
And being or expressing sadness in writing or in general is very difficult (atleast it is for me)