In the recent past I have become aware of how much I value authenticity. Perhaps it goes hand in hand with my love of connecting to others, but I have always valued a platform of being open and honest about one’s self and not needing to hide. Hiding, to me, feels dishonest and yucky and keeping something from someone sometimes feels like I am living a lie. I’m sure this bent towards authenticity comes from a deep craving for it within my family. Growing up I always knew there were secrets; looks and glances were exchanged, voices hushed, certain topics of conversation ceased when certain people walked into the room. I was a pretty intuitive kid so I noticed this. It wasn’t until years later, until my 30’s actually, that many of the family secrets were finally brought into the open and most of what I guessed to be true was actually found to be true. There were large parts of my life that began to make sense and the sharing of secrets opened up into a light space that made interactions not quite so uncomfortable.
I can understand why this drive towards authenticity exists in me. Always wanting to know the truth about what was going on but never really knowing it probably led to a huger for truth and a motivation to just be up front with who I was. Interestingly enough, authenticity, while always a value, has been a learned practice for me—safe authenticity has not always been present in my life. I grew up in a culture where authenticity was required in the form of accountability for punishment, judgment and shaming purposes. Openness and questions (about life, love, faith, the world, etc.) were typically met with a harsh attitude in which people would use the information they gathered against you when the time was right. I developed a struggle within me swinging back and forth between wanting desperately to be authentic and known by others and fearing the repercussions of someone using my story and my deepest thoughts against me.
In doing my own work I have come to recognize not only my own value of authenticity and why it has been so difficult for it in the past but I have started to learn how to live out that value in my day to day life. In my professional life I live in a world that consists of complete authenticity—free from judgement and harsh criticism; it’s the beauty of therapy. Personally I have chosen for the people who I most closely surround myself with to also be people who I can be open and honest with—who refrain from judgement and shaming and who offer their own authenticity back to me.
In fact, it’s gotten to the point where I sometimes naively believe that no one will judge me for my story—the life I have created for myself honors the value of authenticity and absence of judgementalism and I sub-consciously expect for others to offer me the same. The sad truth is that, though ideal, this is not reality.
This is not a concept I have understood with ease. In my mind I did one of those “opposite sides of the spectrum” thing—because I had spent so many years inhibited from authenticity it seemed only natural to swing to the opposite side of the spectrum and have a ‘no-holds-barred’ mentality and let anyone know anything about me. But as we know, neither side of the spectrum is really great to camp out on.
I have seen this to be very evident in dating. Men who I went on a handful of dates with would know, sometimes, intimate details of my past and relationships simply because they asked the question “why are you still single?” In my mind I felt an obligation to let them know the truth—I grew up in an uber religious home and once I got out of that I was in an abusive relationship from which I have done a lot of therapeutic work on and am finally at a place to have something to give to another. While entirely true, this was being said to someone who had not yet earned a position in my life to know this. They barely knew my last name—they certainly didn’t need to know the wounds of mine that had just healed or were still healing!
Part of my desire for authenticity is also because I don’t enjoy playing games. While I don’t need to know all the minute details of someone within the first couple dates, I appreciate someone being able to share with me appropriate amounts of their life at appropriate times in the relationship. But it seems that in today’s day and age this process, like so many others, is a bit warped in what information is requested/expected of another in comparison to the level of the relationship. In my naivety I have believed that if someone is going to ask a personal question they have a level of investment that will allow for me to offer a more detailed or personal answer.
As an example: I have been asked, multiple times, on the first date if I have ever been pregnant. Not do I have kids or do I want to have kids. They don’t even ask if I am currently pregnant. They have asked if I have ever been pregnant. How do you, safely, answer a question like that? What if I say “no” and the relationship continues on and then I have to come back and tell them I lied to them? But if I say “yes” then it seems that they would want to know why I don’t have any children (which leads to a further discussion…did I have an abortion, miscarry, give the kids up for adoption or not have custody of the children?) This is quite the situation to put someone in that you have known for less than a couple hours—and even more of a dilemma when you hold a value of authenticity!
Another example might be the choice that I have made not to drink for a while; when I go on a date where we meet for drinks and I order a club soda or Diet Coke, I inevitably get the question, “why aren’t you drinking?” Part of me feels the need to urgently assure them that I’m not an alcoholic who is working on sobriety or pregnant. But then I know if I take those two things off the table I am at risk of having to explain that I am having some health related issues that I have been working on and am choosing not to drink in order to heal my body. That’s a whole other can of worms. Telling the guy that “I am just choosing not to drink for a while” never seems to sit well at just that, yet they know very little about me that would make me feel comfortable sharing my entire health history.
In chatting about this concept with friends, I know that I am not the only one in this situation. I have heard stories and had my own experiences of men asking questions about sex, past relationships, mental health issues, trauma, family issues and so much more within the first couple dates. Often times when we get these highly inappropriate questions we are faced with this pressure to give an answer AND an explanation. So if I say “yes” or “no” to a question, I must also explain why that is, how I got to that decision and the important life events that have shaped me and I have grown from in order to make my yes my yes or my no my no. And while the person on the listening end of the conversation might appear to be interested in your response he has not yet earned the right in your life to hear that much about you.
This is a real thing, people!
So…what’s a girl to do?
The only answer that I can come up with is: appropriate authenticity—and this requires a bit of boldness. This first means that I take time to reflect on what I feel comfortable sharing about my life with just about anyone—whether I meet you on a date, in a community group or on a city bus. I recognize that on the first few dates these are the things that I can feel safe talking about with my potential suitor and allow myself permission to become aware if it feels like things are going into uncomfortable territory. Secondly, it means that I can give an answer to a question without an explanation; and if an explanation is requested I can share that the story behind that answer isn’t something you share with just anyone. Or, if it’s a really absurd question (like “have you ever been pregnant?”) I might just need to ignore the question altogether and change the subject.
Yeah, sure…they might have bought you dinner or even poured their own heart and soul out to you. But that was their choice. You have a choice in the matter as well. Your story is all they have—make sure that the people you share it with have proven worthy of such an honor.
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