Twice this year I have taken the decision to be honest with people, to actually say what I think. To be open and truthful, in the hope of finding some progression on something, some constructive momentum in a forwards direction. And of course I’ve opened my mouth in a respectful and understanding tone, with humility and also with trust. On both occasions, the trust was there, on my behalf certainly. The fear of speaking only slight and only from pride and awkwardness.
Twice this year I have been burned for my actions. My move to be open has been met with chastisement and punishment. Grief and anger have crept in as I realise my professional life will never allow me to speak as freely as I want and deserve. Sadness and disappointment have crept in as I realise my personal life will never allow for friendships.
My faith in my fellow human has been tarnished. My trust in others has been severed and my heart has bled too many times. My mind has been in overdrive for far too long and I am tired. I am tired at the state of mind others exhibit, the selfishness and callousness, the shear lack of empathy and care.
The building blocks of society and the relationships that exist in this community, once civilised, have tumbled. They have crashed to the floor, broken into a thousand pieces and for good measure, have ignited and poisoned the air with a cloud of sadness.
Too many times I have got up, dusted myself down and allowed myself to chuckle at the desperate sadness of others. But when those closest to you break that trust, add hurt to a spontaneous opportunity of honesty, one starts to wonder what this is really all about.