Sugarcoating Life

Do you live a sugarcoated life? Sometimes, I think that a good number of us do, for at least a good portion of the time. You know – where people don’t always say what they really think or feel. Not because what they are thinking is necessarily so wrong and terrible, but rather because they fear that people can’t handle the honest truth.

And maybe most people can’t handle the honest truth. Even those vocal folks who have little qualms about dishing out brutal honesty to others seem to buckle and whimper whenever the truth is delivered back at them with the same audacity.

How often do you actually hear people say things like;

“Yes, you really do look awful in that outfit.”

“No, you really don’t deserve better.”

“Yes, you really should feel bad about acting like that.”

“No, you really have not earned a raise.”

“Yes, it really is your fault, just as much as it was hers, that you two did not work.”

I know I don’t normally say such things. Some of the time, I will even go as far as to lie a little, just so I don’t hurt people’s feelings. See, my whole life was pretty much sugarcoated. I went from being mommy and daddy’s little girl, to career woman, to the wife of a wonderful husband. Of course I face some drama, challenges and stress, but in reality I know very little of true hardship or strife. So I usually feel as though I should keep any truth that may potentially offend someone to myself, EVEN if the truth may actually help them improve themselves or their position, because I worry too much that they will dismiss my viewpoint in addition to being truly hurt.

But is that the right way to be? Does sugarcoating life really make the world sweeter? Or just more rotten?

I don’t know. But I do know, that the older I get, the harder it becomes to maintain a balance between sincerity and sensitivity. And so whenever I deviate from my usual 100% compassionate self, which usually only happens in the rare occurrence where I am bothered to the extreme, those close to me are consistently flabbergasted.

“You said what, T? I can not believe you said that. Wow. Are you okay? That is so unlike you.”

And I find myself uncertain as to whether I should feel flattered or offended that people can not believe that I told the flat-out truth. Am I really the sweet one who got fed up one day and lashed out. Or am I really the fake chick who got tired of acting like such a sweet and sympathetic lady, and let my true nature show for once?

I may never know. Because everybody is too nice to tell me the truth.

Even me.

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