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Let me ask you something. What's the lie that you've been telling yourself because the truth will require you to do something? Yes, I asked that question. Not because you don't know. You do know. That's what makes this conversation uncomfortable. You know they aren't changing. You know you don't trust them. You know you're unhappy. You know you're exhausted. You know this friendship has run its course. You know that job is killing your spirit. You know you need help. You know you're not okay. You know you need, you know, you keep doing the same shit and expecting a different result. You know. But knowing something and being willing to admit that you know it are two different things. Because once I admit that this relationship is unhealthy, now I have to decide what I'm going to do about it. Once I admit they've shown me who they are, I can't keep pretending I'm waiting on more information. Once I admit I'm part of the problem, I lose the luxury of blaming everybody else. Once I admit this ain't working, something has to change. And change, change can be inconvenient as hell. So instead, we lie, not always big lies, but you know, sometimes they're like cute little lies, reasonable sounding lies, churchy lies, relationship advice lies, family lies, hopeful lies. And what I mean by that, some of this I know y'all said, Well, they're trying. They had a hard childhood. Nobody's perfect. At least they come home. At least they don't hit me. Oh, that's just how my mama is. That's just how our family is. They didn't mean it. I'm being too sensitive. I can handle it. I'm fine. I'm gonna give them one more chance. Maybe next time I'll be different. Baby, how many times does next time have to look exactly like the last time? Before we stop calling it hope and start calling it what it is, which is a pattern. Quiet is kept. Sometimes confusion isn't confusion. Sometimes you know exactly what's happening. You just don't like the answer. And today we're talking about it. Welcome back to the Quiet is Kept Podcast. I am Shanti B, your mental health coach, author, speaker, and your journal babe. And baby, season three has officially stopped minding people's business and started kicking them doors in. You hear me? Episode one, we talked about who would you be if nobody hurt you. In episode two, we talked about the children we used to be are still making adult decisions. Episode three, we talked about you didn't want love, you wanted to finally feel chosen. And now we're gonna talk about what happens when the evidence is sitting right in your face, but accepting it will make us uncomfortable. This episode is called The Lies We Tell Ourselves to Stay Comfortable. And let me say this before we start. Like the minimizing, the rational, the rationalizing, the avoiding, the explaining, the hoping, the pretending. That helps us tolerate something we haven't decided how to face yet. And yes, I have done it, and I know you have too, because if you have you listening. So don't lie about it to yourself. So this isn't me standing on a mountain pointing down at everybody saying, look at these delusional people. No, baby, I'm in this conversation too. As always, this podcast is for education, reflection, and personal growth. This is not therapy, a diagnosis, medical advice, or a substitute for mental health treatment. Go grab your journal and let's get uncomfortable. So, one thing that I uh when I was writing my book, Quiet is Kept, one thing it forced me to do was look backward with information I didn't have while I was actually living through some of those experiences. Mind you, my book is compiled of all of my journal entries. So I when I was writing this book, I had to go back and reread this. But this time, you know, when I read when I read those journal entries, I had information with me. At the time, no, all I had was my thoughts and my pen and my paper. And you know, that is a humbling experience for me because hindsight will expose your ass. And it did me. You start seeing moments where you knew more than you admitted, you remember conversations, feelings, red flags, um, things other people said, things you said, and suddenly you're like, wait a minute, I wasn't as confused as I thought I was. I was conflicted, and you know, those are different. You know, confused says, I don't know what's happening. Conflicted says, I know what's happening, but I don't know if I'm ready to accept what it means. That dysfunction right there, it changed a whole lot for me. Because there were times when I could tell you exactly what was wrong, I could explain why I was unhappy, I could describe the behavior, I could say what wasn't working, I could tell somebody else the whole entire story, but then I turn around and find some reason why maybe it wasn't as bad as it sounded. Do you know how many people do that? They give you a 45-minute description of absolute hell and then finish it with, but they're really a good person. Girl, I didn't ask if they returned shopping carts back to the store and not leave them in a parking lot. We're talking about how they treated you. And I'm talking to myself too, so no worries, no judgment, because I'm in that boat too. Oh, well, I was, I ain't no more. So there's a section in my book, Quiet is Kip where somebody sat me down and basically told me that I deserved better and that I was settling. And the uncomfortable part, I agree with a lot of what she was saying, and at the same time, I could explain why she didn't fully know my relationship. I could explain that she only knew what she had heard based on what I shared, and technically that is true, but I also had to notice something. If almost everything I was saying about my relationship sounded bad, that was information too. I had already gotten to a point where I was planning to say we were done. I took my red wedding ring off during that trip. I knew things weren't right. See, and sometimes the truth isn't hidden, it's inconvenient. And that's today's conversation. So, why do we lie to ourselves? Why would anybody protect themselves from information they already know? Because sometimes the lie gives you something, and that's what we have to understand. The lie isn't always stupid, sometimes it's functional. This isn't that bad, or let me stay another day without making a decision. Oh, they're going to change. Let me keep the future I imagine, or I'm fine, let me keep functioning. Oh, I can handle it, means I don't have to ask for help. My family just loves hard. Means I don't have to admit some of their behavior is actually harmful. They're stressed, means I don't have to consider that they might simply be disrespectful as fuck. Nobody's perfect, means I can lower the standard without admitting I'm lowering it. If I leave now, everything I invested was for nothing. Whew. That means I can keep investing, investing. And this is where we have to stop shaming people and start understanding behavior. Avoidance usually serves a purpose in the short term. It can reduce emotional discomfort, it can help you postpone grief, postpone fear, embarrassment, uncertainty, postpone having to rebuild, but postponing pain doesn't necessarily eliminate it. Sometimes you're financing that pain with interest. I'm here to tell you. So there is actual research behind the problem with long-term avoidance. The longitudinal study followed 1,211 adults across 10 years and found that greater avoidance coping at the beginning of the study predicted more chronic and acute life stressors four years later. Those later stressors in turn help connect earlier avoidance with depressive symptoms years afterward. Think about that. Avoidance feels like I'm reducing stress, but over time, avoidance can help create more shit to be stressed about. You avoid the bill. Now here are the late fee, the late fees. Avoid the conversation, the resentment bills. Avoid the doctor, the problem may get worse. Avoid the boundary, the behavior continues. Avoid asking for help, you become overwhelmed. Avoid admitting the relationship is over. Now you've lost another three years. That's what avoidance does when it becomes a lifestyle. You get temporary relief and send the problem into tomorrow with luggage. And tomorrow is sitting there like, why did you send all this shit over here? Let's start with my favorite lie. They're trying. Okay, how? How are they trying? Seriously. How? Because effort has evidence. If they're trying to communicate better, their communication should gradually improve, right? If they're trying to rebuild trust, then their behavior should become more trustworthy. If they're trying to regulate anger, there should be actual work around anger. If they're trying to respect your boundary, you should see increasing respect for that boundary. If they're trying to change, there should be some kind of movement. Trying is not, I said sorry again. Trying isn't crying after consequences. Trying isn't being nice for four days, and then on the fifth day you go back to being the same asshole you used to be. Trying isn't telling you I'm working on myself. Trying isn't reposting healing quotes on social media. Trying isn't promising therapy. Trying isn't buying flowers after the same disrespect. Trying without movement becomes a word people use to keep access to you. Now, we all know that change isn't linear. People mess up, people relapse into old habits. Growth takes time. I'm a coach, I know that. But there is a difference between imperfect progress and repeated promises with no sustained behavioral change. Know the difference and stop acting like you don't. Let's get to the next the next lie. Nobody's perfect, baby. This one gets abused so much. Nobody's perfect. You're right, nobody is. But why does that sentence only seem to come out when we're discussing somebody's repeated harmful behavior? Nobody's perfect. That doesn't mean nobody is accountable. Nobody's perfect doesn't mean you accept anything. Nobody's perfect doesn't mean emotional safety is optional. Nobody's perfect doesn't mean your boundaries disappear. There is a huge difference between they occasionally forget to take the trash out and they repeatedly degrade me during conflict. We can't put every human flaw in the same bucket. Your partner chewing loudly, yeah, that might annoy you. Your partner constantly humiliating you is something different. Your friend being late sometimes, yes, it's frustrating. Your friend constantly betraying your confidence is something else. Your mother forgetting something you told her is human. Mamas forget all the time. But your mother repeatedly weaponizing private information is something else. So stop using human imperfection to excuse chronic harmful behavior. Oh, this next slide. I love this one. That's just how they are. That's just how she is. Oh, that's just how daddy is. Girl, you know how your aunt is. That's just him. Question: Why does that's just how they are always mean everybody else has to adjust? If that's just how they are, this is just how I am. I'm leaving. Now what? Why are there unhealthy patterns permanent? But my boundaries are negotiable. This happens a lot in family. They teach you that certain relatives get lifetime immunity. Oh, she talks to everybody like that. Okay, and he always has a temper. Okay, and she's from a different generation. Okay, and context can explain behavior, but it does not automatically require my participation. That's the piece. I can understand you and still limit your access. I can understand where it comes from and still say, you can't do it to me. Understanding is not consent. And some of us use things because we don't know they're unhealthy. We saw it growing up, so it became normal. Like I wrote in my book, Quiet is kept, about growing up in an environment where affection and open emotional communication weren't really modeled for me. I thought keeping things in and pushing through was simply just something that you did. That's important because sometimes you don't recognize dysfunction as dysfunction, you recognize it as home. That's why healing can piss your whole family off. Because you start questioning things everybody else agreed not to question. Why don't we apologize? Why can't we talk about what happened? Why do we scream doing disagreements? Why does everybody know everybody's business? Why are we protecting the person who did harm instead of the person who was harmed? Why do children have to tolerate disrespect because an adult is older? Why do we call boundaries disrespectful? Why are we pretending that because somebody fed, clothes, and housed a child, that means emotional harm didn't happen? Uh-oh. Now you're messing with the family constitution, and nobody even remembers who wrote that shit. Now this one, this next one, this next line deserves tenderness. Because minimizing can be protective. Sometimes a person says it wasn't that bad because admitting how bad it was would overwhelm them. So I don't believe in snatching somebody's coping mechanism away and screaming, call it trauma. No, I don't do that. People need room, but eventually, if your healing is stuck, we may have to examine what you're minimizing. It wasn't that bad. Compared to what? Somebody having it worse doesn't make what happened to you okay. You don't need to win the trauma Olympics to acknowledge your pain. People do this all the time. Yeah, my dad wasn't around, but at least he paid child support. My mother hit me, but everybody got whooped back then. They cheated, but at least they came home. They called me names, but they never put their hands on me. My childhood wasn't great, but I had food. Listen, gratitude and grief can exist together. You can appreciate what someone provided and tell the truth about what they didn't. You can love a parent and acknowledge the harm that they caused. You can have beautiful memories inside of a painful childhood. You can recognize somebody's good qualities and still decide their behavior isn't healthy for you. Life is not either or, it ain't black or white, it ain't this or that. Y'all know this already. So there's a psychological concept that fits today's conversation. It's called cognitive dissonance. And at its core, cognitive dissonance describes the discomfort that can happen when our beliefs, attitudes, or choices conflict. So one line of research on difficult decisions shows that people can reduce that discomfort by mentally increasing the value of the option they chose and decreasing the value of the option they rejected. So in one brain imaging study, difficult choices produce activity associated with conflict and aversive arousal, and later shifts in preference help justify the decision that had been made. Now, I'm not saying your relationship is a neuroscience experiment. That ain't what I'm saying. I'm saying human beings are very capable of protecting decisions we've already made. I moved across the country for this person. Now admitting they're wrong for me is harder. I've been married 20 years, harder. We've been Francis kindergarten, harder. I worked at this company for 15 years, harder. I defended them to everybody. Oh now it's really hard because now changing my mind may require admitting I was wrong. And some people will rather stay miserable than be publicly wrong. Woo! Let me tell you something. Change your mind, please. You are allowed. Give yourself permission. New information should produce new decisions. That's intelligence, not failure. You are allowed to change your mind. Give yourself permission to change your mind. I don't care how old you are. I don't care if you said something yesterday and today you think something different. You're allowed to change your mind. Now, since we're here, let's talk about the investment. I can't leave now. I put too many years into this. Who Lord, baby. The years are gone either way. And I know that's rough, but you don't recover yesterday by sacrificing tomorrow. Think about that. You don't get 10 years back by giving something another five. Now, I'm not telling you to quit a relationship because it's hard. Relationships require work. Businesses require work, goals require work, healing requires work. The question is, what is the work producing? Is the work building something? Or are you constantly repairing the exact same damage? Are both people working? Or are you doing CPR on a relationship that the other person keeps strangling? That's different. Now, I'm going to be careful here because people's family circumstances are complicated. Finances matter, safety matters, housing matters, custody matters, community matters. I'm not standing outside anybody's house telling them when to leave their relationship. But I will challenge the story. The most famous line: I'm staying for the kids. Okay. What are the kids learning from what they're watching? That's the question. Are they watching conflict repair, respect, boundaries, healthy communication, partnership, or are they watching silent treatment, resentment, contempt, infidelity, fear, yelling, walking on eggshells, one person shrinking to keep the other person calm? Children don't only learn relationships from what you tell them, they learn from what you normalize in front of them. I know we like to say, do as I say and not as I do to kids. But baby, you can say that to you blue in the face. They're always gonna go by what they see. Sometimes staying may genuinely be what someone believes is best given their circumstances, and that's fine. But don't automatically assume that two adults being under one roof is healthier for children than every other alternative. Families are more complicated than that. So tell yourself the truth about what the environment actually is. Alright now. This is the strong friend's favorite. I'm fine. Translation I haven't collapsed yet. That's not the same thing. You can function and not be fine. You could go to work and not be fine. Do your hair and not be fine. Host meetings. Take care of your kids. Oh while not being fine. Going out to brunch with your friends. And still not be fine. Post a cute picture on social media definitely may not be fine. Functioning does not tell the whole story. Sometimes I'm fine means I don't know what to call what I'm feeling. Sometimes it means I don't trust you enough to tell you. Sometimes it can mean I don't have time to fall apart. Sometimes it can mean if I start talking, I'm scared I won't stop. Sometimes it can mean everybody depends on me. So where exactly am I supposed to break down? And that's real. But eventually, you need at least one place where I'm fine isn't required. Now, researchers sometimes use the term experiential avoidance to describe attempts to escape, suppress, or control difficult internal experiences, thoughts, emotions, memories, or sensations. A recent systematic review and meta-analysis in cancer populations found a substantial positive association between experiential avoidance and psychological distress. The pooled correlation across 17 effect sizes was about 0.58, although the studies varied and the population was medically specific. Another systematic review noted something that matters for today's episode. Avoidance may sometimes offer short-term relief, but over longer periods it can interfere with functioning and engagement with life. And that absolutely makes sense. Sometimes denial helps you to survive Tuesday. The problem is when Tuesday's coping strategy becomes your whole life because a feeling ignored isn't necessarily a feeling resolved. The I don't care people. Yes, you do. Sometimes, not always. Sometimes you genuinely don't give a damn. And that is beautiful. But sometimes I don't care means I care deeply and I hate that I care. Oh, come on. Sometimes I'm over it means I'm tired of talking about something that still hurts. Sometimes it is what it is, means I don't know what else to do with what it is. Sometimes I wish them the best means I hope their socks stay wet forever or whatever. So let's tell the truth. You don't need to perform indifference to prove that you're healing. You can care and still move the hell on. You could be hurt and still maintain that boundary. You can miss someone and still know they don't belong in your life. You can love someone and leave. Maturity isn't I don't feel anything. Maturity is I don't let every feeling dictate my behavior. That is different. Now let's get into the dangerous side of hope. Hope is beautiful. I'm a hopeful person. Faith matters. Believing people can grow matters. But hope without evidence can become denial. And there is a big difference between I believe change is possible and I'm going to organize my entire life around waiting for somebody to become who they keep showing me they currently are not. Potential again. We're back. And here's the question: What evidence are you using to support your hope? Not what they promised. I mean evidence. Have they sought help? Have their patterns changed? Have they demonstrated accountability? Has the new behavior lasted beyond the crisis? Are you seeing movement? Hope needs something to stand on. Otherwise, you may be calling fantasy faith. All right. Here's your hard truth of the week. Get ready. Some of the things you're asking God to reveal have already been revealed. You just don't like what you saw. Yeah, we're going there. Stop asking for another sign when you've ignored the last 12. God, if this person isn't for me, girl, the Lord sent you screenshots, witnesses, red flags, recurring nightmares, your mama, your best friend, the group chat, and that high blood pressure you have. How many departments need to contact you? At some point, discernment requires participation. And whether you're spiritual or not, the broader truth still stands. Repeated evidence is information. Pay attention to it. Wake up, ladies. Wake up. Pray for that discernment. If you feel like your discernment isn't strong, pray for that. So now wait. We're not spending this whole episode pointing at everybody else because sometimes we are the person we need to stop lying about. I only said that because they made me mad. No, you chose to say it while you were angry. Or they know how I am. That's not accountability. I apologize. Okay, but did your behavior change? Or I didn't mean it like that. Might not, but intent matters and impact matters too. I was triggered.

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Okay.

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And what are you doing to learn how to respond differently when you're triggered? I'm working on myself. What work? Because remember what I said earlier about their trying. That shit applies to us too. We cannot demand behavioral evidence of growth from everybody around us and then grade ourselves on intentions. That's bullshit. Healing is real when you start removing yourself from your own exceptions. You are not the exception. That's one thing I can appreciate about my own healing process. Eventually, I had to stop keeping the focus only on what other people did. When I identified my pain points with my parents, I didn't just write what happened, I wrote the impact, low self-esteem, anger, problems managing emotions, difficulty with love, patterns that showed up in my parenting and adult life. And then healing required conversations. It required reflection, therapy, journaling, looking inside myself. Because here's what nobody likes to hear. You can be deeply wounded and still need accountability. Your trauma doesn't make every response appropriate. Your childhood doesn't excuse every adult behavior. Your ex doing you wrong doesn't give you permission to do the next person wrong. Or seeking revenge on the ex who did you wrong. Being betrayed does not entitle you to become controlling. Being abandoned doesn't entitle you to emotionally imprison somebody. Sometimes that is the truth. People genuinely don't know what to do. But sometimes I don't know what to do means I don't like any of my available options. That's different too. You know you could leave, you don't want the grief. You know you could confront them, you don't want the conflict. You know you could set the boundary, you don't want their reaction. You know you could ask for help, you don't want to feel vulnerable. Vulnerable. You know you could start over, you don't want that insert uncertainty. So instead, I don't know what to do. Maybe you do. Maybe every option just has a cost. In adulthood, a lot of adulthood is deciding which costs you're willing to pay because staying has a cost too. And sometimes we forget that. We calculate the cost of leaving, but what's the cost of staying? We calculate the cost of speaking up. What's the cost for silence? We calculate the cost of disappointing them. What's the cost of continuously disappointing yourself? Run both numbers next time. And here's another reason that people say stuck. Familiar pain can feel safer than unfamiliar freedom. You know how this relationship hurts. You don't know what single looks like, because y'all have been together so long. You know how this job drains you. You don't know if the new thing will work. You know what your dysfunctional family role is. You don't know who you'd be if you stopped playing it. You know people pleasing. You don't know how people will respond to your boundaries when you set them. You know survival. Peace is very unfamiliar. So you stay with the devil you know. Not because it's good, but because it's predictable. And predictability can feel like safety even when the predictable outcome is pain. That's why change requires more than just knowing better. You have to build tolerance for uncertainty. Now let me give you something practical. When you're struggling to determine whether you're lying to yourself, separate the facts from the story. Facts are observable. Story is interpretation. Fact, they have broken the same agreement four times. Story, they're trying. Fact, they haven't scheduled the appointment they promised to schedule. Story, they've been busy. Fact, you dread going to work every morning and have for the last 18 months. Story. Every job is stressful. Fact. You have communicated the boundary repeatedly. Story. Maybe I didn't explain it correctly. Fact, you don't feel safe telling this person how you feel. Story. I'm just not good at communicating. Do you see it? You see where I'm going? Stories aren't always false. Maybe they are busy. Maybe every job has stress. Maybe communication is difficult for you. But facts give you something solid. When the story keeps changing to protect the same outcome, then you pay attention. All right, here are your five prompts, and don't write no cute answers. We're not doing that inspirational Pinterest journaling today, or ever do it, do it, but especially not today. Number one, what truth in my life do I already know, but keep acting like I'm still trying to figure out? Is it a relationship, friendship, family, career, money, health, my own behavior? Name it. Problem number two, what sentence do I repeatedly use to excuse something that continues to hurt me? Let me remind you of some uh famous ones. They're trying. That's just how they are. It's not that bad. They've had a hard life. I can handle it. We've been through too much. Write your sentence and then ask, is it explanation or excuse? Number three, if I fully accepted the truth about this situation today, what decision would I have to consider making? And I'm not saying necessarily make it immediately, but consider what does the truth put on the table? A conversation, a boundary, therapy, leaving, an apology, financial change, asking for help, rest, accountability. Number four, what is my current situation costing me to maintain? Bang! Number four, what is my current situation costing me to maintain? Emotionally, physically, financially, spiritually, relationally, mentally. What is a monthly payment on staying the same? Because comfort is not always cheap, honey. And number five, if I trusted myself to handle the consequences of telling the truth, what would I finally admit? That's the one. Sit on this one. Don't rush through it. Don't pretend, and don't write nothing that sounds good. What would you actually admit? So here's what I'm learning. I'm unlearning that peace makes avoiding hard truth. I'm unlearning that peace means avoiding hard truth. Because it don't. Avoidance can make things quiet. Quiet isn't always peace. Sometimes quiet is tension that nobody's naming. Sometimes it's fear, emotional shutdown, resentment. Real peace can handle truth. Real peace doesn't require me to pretend. Real peace doesn't require me to abandon myself. Real peace doesn't ask me to swallow every emotion just so nobody else gets uncomfortable. And listen, truth can disrupt things, truth can end relationships, truth can change family dynamics. Truth can cost you access. Truth can reveal something about yourself that you might not like. But fake peace has a cost too. This is really at the heart of my book, Quiet is kept. The title itself is about things being kept quiet, things we don't talk about, things we hold in, things families don't discuss, things relationships hide, things we hide from ourselves. And at the beginning of the book, I made it clear that I was done holding things in and that I was telling real stories from my own life because I hope somebody else could push through their pain by seeing mine. And when you read the whole story, you see something important. Truth changes as we change. Something I believed in one season, I could look at differently later. Something I defended, I could question later. Something I normalized, I could name it later. That's growth. Quiet is kept, it's not about pretending I've always had perfect clarity because baby, that's a lie. It's about what happened when I finally start telling the truth about other people, about what happened to me, and eventually about myself. So if season three is connecting with you, and you haven't read the memoir yet, baby, go get your copy. But don't just read it looking for drama because most of the people who purchased it, that's what they go to it for for the drama. Yeah, it's drama, but I want you to read it looking for patterns. Ask, you know, where was she surviving? Where was she rationalizing? Where was she searching for love? Where was she ignoring herself? Where did things finally shift? And then turn those same questions toward your own life. And that's exactly why coaching isn't me sitting on Zoom telling people what to do with their life. I don't do that. You probably already have people giving you advice, probably unsolicited. Your friend told you, your sister told you, TikTok told you, your auntie told you. Hell, sometimes you told you. The problem isn't always information. Sometimes the problem is that you're not ready to act on what you know. That's where coaching is good because we're going to look at what are you avoiding? What belief keeps you there? What are you scared you'll lose? What story makes you makes the current situation tolerable? What do the facts actually say? What boundary belongs here? What choices align with the person you're becoming? And what are you willing to do next? Not someday, but next. Because insight without moving can become another avoidance strategy. You can journal yourself in circles, read 37 books, listen to 200 podcasts, learn all the therapy language, know your attachment style, know your trauma responses, know your inner child, know you know your anenogram, your zodiac sign, your love language, your Myers Briggs, and you will still refuse to make the decision. At some point, baby, we gotta move. So if you're ready to stop circling the truth and start doing something with it, go and visit my website and learn about coaching with me because y'all know the name of the program, Stayin' Stuck and Cute. And this episode might as well be an exhibit A. So here's your challenge this week. Catch every butt. Just for seven days, I want you to listen to yourself. I know this relationship is draining me, but I know I need rest, but I know I should set a boundary, but I know I'm unhappy, but I know they keep doing the same thing, but that word is about to expose you. When you hear yourself say, but I want you to pause. Say everything before the butt again. And that's often the truth. I know I'm unhappy. I know this keeps happening. I know I'm exhausted. You don't have to make an immediate life-changing decision. Just practice letting the truth complete the sentence without rushing it or without trying to rescue yourself from it. No buts. So listen, I'm not asking you to become cynical. I'm not telling you to stop giving people grace. I'm not telling you every relationship needs to end, and I'm not telling you to walk away the first time somebody disappoints you. I'm asking you to stop confusing grace with denial. Grace says, you made a mistake, let's work through it. Denial says, this is a ninth time, but somehow I'm still calling it a mistake. Grace says, I understand why you struggle. Denial says, because I understand you, I have to tolerate anything you do. Grace says people can change. Denial says, I'm going to treat your potential like I'm going to treat your potential like current evidence. That one was for me. Grace says healing takes time. Denial says there is no timeline, accountability, movement, or consequence. That's different. You can be compassionate and discerning. You can hope and watch their behavior. You can forgive and change access. You can love and accept the reality. Those things can coexist. And maybe you've been lying to yourself because the truth is scary. That's just the human part of you. Maybe admitting the marriage isn't what you hoped it would be scares you. Or admitting your child is struggling scares you. Or, you know, admitting you need professional help scares you. Maybe admitting your mother may never become the mother you need scares you. Maybe admitting you're lonely scares you. Maybe admitting you've hurt somebody scares you. Maybe admitting you made the wrong choice scares you. Maybe admitting you don't want the life you built scares you. And quiet is kept. I wrote at one point that I was tired and looking back, I realized I wasn't ready for and didn't actually want the life I had created for myself at that time. That is a brutal truth to admit. But you know what's even more brutal? Spending the rest of your life protecting a decision that you are allowed to change. Remember earlier when I said you're allowed to change your mind? You're allowed to also say, I was wrong. I changed. I don't want this anymore. This hurts me. I need more. I need less. I don't trust this. I miss them, but I don't want them back. I love them, but I can't live like this. I forgive them, but access is denied. I thought this was what I wanted. It's not. I said yes then. I'm saying no now. That's not weakness, honey. That is honesty. All right, and give y'all the quarter of the week. Write this down. The truth usually isn't confusing. What's confusing is trying to make the truth coexist with the outcomes you still want. Woo! I'm gonna say that again for y'all. The truth usually isn't confusing. What's confusing is trying to make the truth coexist with the outcome you still want. That's it. All right, y'all. If this episode calls you a liar, don't email me. You're getting mad at me. Take it up with yourself.