Peeling back layers: thoughts on honesty, fear, and staying open to life

I’ve never been a person who writes a list of resolutions, neither at the end of the year nor on birthdays or other milestones.

Something about it stresses me out. I slip too easily into self-judgement, into comparing what I did or didn’t do, what I gained or lost, where I succeeded and where I failed.

You might say this is me sticking my head in the sand like an ostrich. And you might be right.

But I’m not really ignoring what has happened. Nor am I trying to paint my story pink. I simply don’t dwell on it, and I try not to grade myself. At least I try not to. Sometimes I still do.

I try not to grade myself. Sometimes I still do.

On Introspection and What It Teaches Me

At the same time, I love introspection and reflection. It’s how I live my everyday life.

It’s how I notice moments of disillusion. Like when I realised that telling my mom something that felt absolutely true to me, my reality, only hurt her, and was therefore absolutely unnecessary.

I was reminded that as much as I value transparency and seek clarity and honesty, some things are better left unsaid. Either forever, or until a time when both the speaker and the listener are able to hold what is being said. A time when both can embrace the pain with love, see the beauty in the insight it offers, and share it fully, without a wall, a line, or a bank separating them.

Introspection is also how I’m able to listen to a podcast or a friend and suddenly realise that, despite seeing myself as a courageous person, I am still managed by fear at times. By the need to avoid certain kinds of pain.

Despite seeing myself as courageous, I am still managed by fear at times.

Choosing Openness Over Control

You might ask what the difference is.

To me, this daily, spontaneous introspection keeps me open. It ignites a fire within me. A fire that sometimes leads to change, and other times simply carries me through moments of weakness, difficulty, and disbelief.

It brings me joy. It opens my eyes to what life is offering me. Not in terms of giving me what I want or dream of, but in reminding me how vast, fascinating, and full of potential it really is.

All I need to do is take the leap and keep exploring. To risk not getting what I wanted or thought I needed, and still learn so much about life and myself that it’s all worth it.

So I wish for myself, and for you, that we raise our eyes and dare to look at what our hearts are calling for, even when it feels scary, unknown, or unstable.

That we stop measuring our lives against our fantasies, or against the lives of others. That we learn to celebrate someone else’s success without feeling the quiet sting of where we still feel lacking.

That we stay curious. That we keep moving through life with our eyes open, working with fear instead of resisting it or surrendering to it. Isn’t this what living courageously might actually look like?

And maybe most of all, that we truly see one another, and allow ourselves to be seen. That we share in pain and in pleasure. That we meet one another with kindness.

Not as a resolution.
Just as a way of staying open.

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