Lying is insidious.  
Someone that begins to lie for certain reasons, in specific areas over time can’t contain it.  Without noticing it slowly creeps around and sends off shoots like vines on the side of a house.  Left untended, they’ll cover the house and destroy it.  That was me.

During the first 3 years of practicing raw honesty with John1 I felt like I was climbing a greased pole.  Fear, doubt, and jangled nerves were my companions trying to convince me that this level of honesty was leaving me too vulnerable and threatened to destroy me.  Time and again I feared the honesty would produce disgust, hate, doubt, John would never trust a word I said, and worse he would stop being my friend.

But in fact what I’ve discovered is the more honest I’ve been the more: love, compassion, understanding, and acceptance I’ve received, and John1 doesn’t hang up on me.

Honesty can hurt like hell,
but it builds, it produces life.
Now I’m a honesty practicing believer,
even if I can have my minor challenges here and there.
Everything takes practice.  Practice makes perfect.
The important thing is, I practice…

So why all this?  Well, I’m going to another level of honesty here in my blog…
Show you more of who I am.
As I have stated all along this is a journey: going “from housewife to film maker”.
Coming out of “housewife” has absolutely included, for me, coming out of lying.  The first lie I had to admit to?  “I’m happily married and my husbands loves and care for me.”  I had stated it for so long it become my gospel truth.  It was tough to even see it was a lie, let alone unhitch.  That one was painful.

Facing this lie was just the first in a long line of lies.  It freed up a lot.  It was a major start down the path of old rusty lies.  Unfortunately there had been the other lies, the new “creeping vine” lies… John1 hung up on both: old and new.

But enough of that for now, where I want to go is to this point: I’m concerned that as I write about my children today I may indirectly be propagating another lie: that I’m a super supreme mom without any kid issues.  Doing it all right.  Now what I write is real, honest, and true.  It’s not letter perfect but it’s pretty darn good.  However what you don’t see is that a big chunk of that “good” comes from my messing up with my first four.  And what I live with as a result.  Painfully learned lessons have produced the fruit the last four are enjoying with me now.  Again I’m not perfect by any means, but boy am I the new and improved model.  (But honestly I doubt they’ll reach adulthood without their complaints.  Parenting is riddled with it’s problems even in the best of circumstances.)

The relationship I shared with the first four had a lot of good.  We were tight.  But it had it’s problems.  I created issues that created rifts.  I created pain for them.  Since I was so opposite from my parents I had a very difficult time seeing the damage I had caused.  But it was there just like a car that’s been in an accident and repaired.   The car runs fine, it’s just that one door never quite shuts right anymore, and it’s getting worse . . .

That’s what tomorrow’s post will be about.  Me being honest when it comes to my first four children…
If you’re to have a complete picture of me, an honest picture, then I need to get real.  Get raw.  Get honest . . .

Night, Love ya,
Theresa Jane
-wondering why on earth since this has been a mini series I didn’t title them all the same and number them…

I have a loooooooong history with lying.  Goes back to when I was a kid.  Lying was typically preferred to slaps in the face.  The belt across my legs.  Things like that.  I tried being truthful.  But somehow it just didn’t seem to work as well.  So if I sensed, and I learned to have the razor sharp, keen sense of a lion on the hunt, one of my parents weren’t going to be happy with a truth, I found a lie real quick.  They were happier.  I was happier.  I “wore” less welt marks that’s for sure…Oddly I found I was believed more for my lies than truth.

Then came the day I needed to expand the skill.  Use it strategically.  See when I was a teen I found this guy that made my toes tingle.  We wanted to see each other.

I was 13 he was 19. (I was always very mature for my age, had to grow up quick in my home)
We asked permission.
It was granted.
Things went along super till one day, I think a month and half into it, my step-father decided, game over.  Couldn’t see him anymore.
WHAT!?
“No way, we’ve followed all the rules, he comes to our house a ton…”
He didn’t want to hear it.  “No more…” was the firm and resolute answer.

Well, “No way,” was my resolute answer.  He was the best part of my shit life.  He loved me.  So I took lying to a new level.
I continued on with “Toe Tingler” behind their always very watchful backs…

Got caught once.
The shit hit the fan.  The street.  The neighborhood.  The town.
But I learned.
I learned what not to do.
And never got caught again.
I dated him for years.
The things I got away with right under their nose…That’s some fancy lying.

Then I married.
Not him.  Another guy.
My “ex”.
That’s a loooong story.  (Goes along with my series of posts: Peering Down the Rabbit Hole.  They began here: click here and if you don’t read any other read this: click here.  It’s specifically on the worthlessness I’ve carried and it’s impact.)
This guy, my ex, holds money till it bleeds.
Had to wrangle with him over money all the time.  For basic simple things for the kids, the house… like clothes for instance.
So, viola, whip out the lying/manipulating tool and we’re off to the races.

So.  Four years ago when John1 came up with this “Total Honesty”, let’s call it an “exercise”, so we can create more consciousness, that put me at like 36 years of lying.  What had begun as something that I used for the purpose of survival, had slowly seeped into all areas of my life.   It was littered around in small and big ways.  And a lot of the time I honestly didn’t see or think was even an issue.

So, yeah, this challenge was tough.  Add to it that John can smell a lie like a cat can a rat a mile away.  And well, can’t tell you how many times he hung up on me because I wasn’t holding up my end and being completely honest.  Holding to a shade of a lie like a dog with a bone.  Sometimes consciously, sometimes not.  But god if he didn’t know.  He insisted I see it.  Own it.  I always did.

Eventually…

Yup.
Not good.
Surprised he’s still my friend really.
But that’s what a true friend does.  That is love.  And believe me it is.  If you only knew… I’m a tough nut to crack.  I sort of resemble granite.  But he’s committed to me getting what I say I want.  The same as he wants…  Healing.  To wake up.  To become conscious.

  Happiness.  Peace.  Clarity.  And for me I’ll add: getting a life.  And finding me.  (He did those two for himself, years and years ago, lucky duck)

So back to the show…  Sex Rehab.  Needless to say I watched those people be unbelievably honest, in pursuit of getting their healing.  And that’s the part I admire.  How they just rattled off all their gritty stuff like it was a walk in the park.  I couldn’t help but be moved…

Some say Mozart moved them or a piece of art.  Seeing the Grand Canyon moved others.  Me?  A bunch of serious sex addicts moved me.  Moved me to decide a few serious things in my life.  To really walk out into the middle of the room and get real.  Publicly.  Here in my blog.

That’s what tomorrow is about. . .

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-who’s going to bed and it won’t even be midnight

I could end here, but that would be disappointing.  But I HAVE to tell you something more meaningful.  It starts with this blog…

Becoming Jennie captured my attention straight out of the shoot:   The brutal honesty riveted me to her page.  I’ve been reading her for, what?  A couple weeks now.   It’s her honesty that amazes me.  It’s practically brutal.  She’s on the show Sex Rehab.  I’ve not watched it.  Time is an issue.  Then, well, I’d have to find the channel it’s on.  Those sort of things I put off.  But I did Google it last  night.  I watched clips from the show and was blow away by these people.  Honest to the bone.  Some just zipped the info out without a hitch.  Some were having a tough time.  But all wanted to be free.  And I think I’m remembering this right, all/most want to have a sincere relationship with one person.  But their addiction blocks them.  They destroy that for themselves.  Now I want to watch the show.  That means finding the channel…

After viewing them I sat back gob-stopped.   Marveling.  And inspired.  Why?  I’ve been practicing honesty for something like four years now with John1.  We’re both into awakening/healing/consciousness.  It’s our thing.  So we work together.  Read books and discuss them.  Watch movies, discuss them.  Dig into our issues.  Talk about them…

He’s like 20 miles ahead of me so he ultimately helps me more in some ways.  But we both benefit.  Well one day he came up with this new “thing” for us to strive for: absolute honesty with each other.  I’m talking the unveiled, all the time, sort of honesty.  Honesty that can hurt.  I saw the value and agreed…bush baby has this been tough to get to.  Harder for me than him.  Nothing like having a friend hold my feet to the fire!  There’s been tremendous growth.  But first I had to come to see how much I lied.  OUCH.  See, I have a loooonnnnnggggg history with lying…

That’s where I’ll pick up tomorrow.    I’ve always loved television mini-series…

Night, Love ya,
Theresa Jane
-who just looked at her clock and is startled, it’s 4:17 a.m.  eeeeekkkkkkk…