As a good friend and I were recently talking, I felt comfortable enough with our relationship to offer up my view of a particular personal matter, not attached to outcomes - merely an observation from my vantage point. In reflecting on that conversation, I am struck (again and always) with gratitude for those friendships that are real, that are deep, that can handle the good and the not-so-good.

I work in a setting where people are nearly constantly giving each other feedback in an effort to increase individual awareness. Nobody likes it, at least initially. No one actually prefers being called out on behaviors, especially if they don't themselves recognize the problem. We call it accountability.

How many times in my pre-recovery days, was I blind to my faults? It was so much easier to point the finger elsewhere, or to say to myself, "It doesn't matter," "Someday soon I will ______" or  just plain, "Screw it!"  I was raised with a strong work ethic, and a sense of right and wrong, but that accountability to myself and others frittered itself away in the face of my alcoholism and addiction. Plans galore. Follow through, zilch.

And then I went to treatment where we learned about personal responsibility, and about the vital importance of self-honesty. So called "cash register honesty" matters, but what really mattered was being truthful with myself - not just a little bit, not including the tiny fibs I'd tell myself about my intentions, but gut-level, between me and god honesty (and in this instance, I'm defining "god" as the still, small voice, my conscience, that part of me that knows but doesn't want to know when I'm off my personal track). In treatment I got honest about a piece of drug paraphernalia I was tempted to hang on to, realizing that keeping it was permission to use it. When I got home, To Thine Own Self Be True showed up one day when I went into the basement to clear out the remnants of the meth lab that had been gurgling under the stairs just months earlier. As I carted out a box of broken glassware, I noticed a pyrex dish that was edged with a thin sheen of methamphetamine, definitely enough to get me high after a month's abstinence. I automatically did a mental scan of the house, wondering if the friend who'd cleaned up before my homecoming had missed a syringe in one of my hiding places. My first coherent thought was, "No one will know." But within seconds, a wave of peace washed over me with the thought, as clear as if someone had spoken it to me, "But you would know Jeanine. You would know." And for perhaps the first time in my life, that mattered. Self-honesty became one of those recovery muscles that got stronger with use, though it took a while before I could practice the principles in all my affairs all of the time (& darn it, I'm still not perfect!)

Accountability and honesty matter in my close relationships as well. We often hear that a sponsor is "someone who will call me on my B.S." and that's true, but I also need that in my friendships. It's rarely easy to hear, or to tell, someone what we see that may not be roses and rainbows. And it matters. If I don't have at least one friend who will be real with me, about their own stuff as well as mine, what's the point?

How do we, how do I, make it safe for that level of sharing? Gently, for sure. Instead of expecting people to read my mind, I can ask for input on a specific conundrum. If I'm the one with an observation to share, I can ask if the person is open to feedback, and can then remember the Alanon suggestion that telling something once is input, twice is nagging.

Honesty in friendships can be a delicate matter. I'm thinking of another Alanon slogan - How Important Is It? Sometimes "it" is a matter of life and death and I'm cheating us both by not speaking up. Sometimes "it" is just me being judgmental or picky. Usually, it's somewhere in between. I think what I'm writing about here is Step 10 and my willingness to listen to my inner knowing, whether around my own isms or a conversation that needs to happen.

Sometimes this human-business feels complicated. But I find that the more I'm able to show up, be present, and listen, the more connected I feel to my people, and to the greater good.

Where do you feel at ease being yourself? Are you in relationships that either do, or do not, hold themselves open to honest sharing?