A Hard Truth About Hard Truths

First of all, I turned 44 yesterday. This morning, I woke up to an ad for a Jitterbug cell phone on the lock screen of my Kindle along with this caption:

A great cell phone for seniors!

Fuck you, Kindle.

But anywhoo…the number one thought on my mind this morning is how many times to we have to be told what we already know?

There are so many recurring themes in my blog posts that I feel like a fraud at regular intervals.

Am I just saying what I’ve said before? Yes.

Am I just saying it in a different way? Yup.

Does anyone want to read this shit? Apparently. You keep subscribing and sharing.

I mean, how many times do we have to be told the simplest of things about how we spend (or save) our money, share our hearts, or use our voices?

How many times do our girlfriends have to tell us that we’re dating that person, albeit in a different meat suit, again?

That the house isn’t going to clean itself and you’re going to regret that two-day cocaine-and-vodka bender and that you really should have put the Do Not Disturb sign on your hotel door when you rolled in at 4AM.

That there is no solace in a bottle. That self-worth doesn’t come from likes or share or the number of digital friends we boast.

That we are enough.

How many times?

Which brings me to the hard truth about the hard truths I share and that we all receive through this life:

We’ll never STOP needing to hear them.

Which is why a gazillion folks out there write about a small number of topics: self-worth, vulnerability, being a better company, effective leadership, civil rights, social media best practices, building better teams.

Because sometimes the last person you need to hear shit from is the last person you heard it from.

I had one of my dearest friends tell me this week that she’d met with someone who’d given her the same advice I’d given her fro the past two years about her brand and she was completely energized.

And I just said sometimes you need to hear it from someone who’s not your friend.

There’s nothing wrong with that at all.

Because our receptiveness to wisdom is a direct correlation to where we are and who we are at the time we’re given the wisdom.

I mean, shit. I used to be a financial advisor and I still laugh when I look at my bank accounts and savings situations. Like, sold-out stand-up comedy headliner kinds of laughs.

I have purged my home of so much clutter this year — clothing, furniture, STUFF — and there is an orange chair in the corner of our bedroom that is so constantly covered with a mound of MY STUFF that Clark Kent always responds, “What chair?” when I mention the orange fucking chair. Also of note, when I finally put all the shit away and you can see the chair again, he always quips, “Is that a new chair?” <Me: glares>

I estimate, conservatively, that the most important shit I need to know I’m reminded of — in some form or fashion — once a day. From a friend’s status update, a quirky meme photo on Instagram, an overheard exchange while in line at the store, from a random piece of graffiti…

Where it comes from is less the matter than that it comes.

Because humans…goddamn, we need some reminding, don’t we?

We need reminding that we are enough. That it’s okay to be ourselves. That it’s perfectly acceptable to have a you that only a special someone gets to see. That none of us are infallible. That shit happens. That when shit happens, it’s generally at an inconvenient time. That death sucks. Loss blows. That not everything happens for a reason (and wanna know how I feel about that particular phrase? Read this.) That we deserve better than this job/guy/gal/roommate situation. That we’re not done learning. That saying “Happy Holidays” isn’t a fucking War on Christmas when real people are dying in real wars in real places every goddamned day. That the color of skin isn’t indicative of a human’s deserving of equity, respect, and the benefit of the doubt. That ours isn’t the only right answer. That we’re entitled to opinions yet not free of consequence for sharing them. That power left unchecked and unchallenged is dangerous.

And that all of the above are in response to situations that we encounter every. Single. Fucking. Goddamned. Fuckwittian. Day.

And we need to hear those hard truths.

However they come. And from whomever they come.

My hope is that I get better at hearing them and taking them to heart. Take them to heart in deeper ways. Find new ways to put them into action to make the world around me a better place.

And that’s what makes hard truths so fucking hard: knowing that you’re going to be having the same conversations with yourself, the ones your love, and the world around you as long as you’re on this coil.

If you ask me, they’re conversations worth having.

So get your hard truths. Line up your sources. Make an RSS feed of shit you need to hear and make sure it’s not all coming from the same person or news source or blog all the fucking time. Because you never know when you’ll need someone different to tell you the same shit you just heard.

Because that might be time time when you’re finally ready to not just hear it — but do something with it.

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