A popular phrase, these days, is “thank you for telling your Truth”. It strikes me as an odd phrase, along with the similar phrases, “thank you for sharing” or “thanks for being honest”. All of these have become clichés in television, radio, and our conversations. None of these trite phrases necessarily means that someone is truthful, honest, or that we appreciate their “shares”, but often mean, “I appreciate that you shared something so personal or vulnerable.”
This expression makes me wonder what is my truth? As I work on preparing personal stories to tell, I’m also confronted by gaps in my story or a feeling that my memory and perspective may be faulty. Sometimes, I verify the story with my family members, only to find that their memories of the same event are very different than my own or that I left out a detail that changes the meaning.
How does the truth change because of the tellers’ perspectives? A few years ago, I was managing a training project with a short deadline with a close-knit work team. I collaborated with Jo, one of my employees, and asked her to work overtime to complete a draft of this presentation. While it was a lot of work, Jo was willing to work through the night to complete a beautiful draft. During her unveiling of the project, I noticed that the other work teams were skeptical and began arguing with each other. The finished product was so far from the status quo that they had a hard time accepting it. I abruptly pulled the plug on the project.
I don’t know what went through Jo’s mind at that moment. But, I knew she would be angry. After all, she worked all night on it, had to learn a new software program to produce it, and, as her manager, I did not back her up at all. On the other hand, I knew that I could not persuade the other teams to accept the project at that moment, which would make Jo work more overtime hours, and probably result in swapping it at the last minute with the “usual”, causing even more work. So, in my estimation, it was best to cut our losses early.
I later learned that Jo was furious with me and the situation. She was very close to quitting because of it and was very direct with me about her feelings. I had to stand firm on my decision, knowing from experience that it was the right decision. At the same time, Jo was such a valuable employee, and friend, that I knew that I had to resolve it.
Jo and I worked through this conflict. We had not addressed all the issues, yet, but we were mending our relationship. The next day at lunch, one of our other teammates was noticeably chilly to both of us. She questioned everything we said and seemed to be very angry and annoyed. Jo, never one to mince words, asked Sarah why she was upset. Sarah said that one of us had to be lying because both Jo and I told her two entirely different stories about what happened. She said that she couldn’t trust either of us because she couldn’t figure out who was lying.
At that moment, both Jo and I recognized that our different perspectives, from our vantage points, became the basis for two entirely different versions of the same event. We both had told our Truths.
I keep this in mind, as I construct my stories, and allow myself to tell the stories as I know them. I accept the gaps and the faulty interpretations or memories. Afterall, these are my Truths.
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