The Courage to Be Honest with Yourself

Three pieces for you today. Well, two pieces and a quote.

Let’s go.

Opening yourself up to the truth is vulnerability.

Vulnerability is courage.

Courage isn't for the weak-hearted.

Because you don't know what the truth brings.

The truth can expose you for what you are—a hypocrite.

A hypocrite who says the right things, knows the right path, but never commits, and is always skirting between the truth and the easy.

You know who you are.

Ask yourself the hard question:

Is this how you're supposed to live, or is this the easiest, sanitized way of living?

We've gotten so good at creating performances of our lives.

"I'm working on myself."

"I'm making progress."

"I'm balancing things."

But if we're truly honest? Most of this is bullshit we tell ourselves to feel better about not doing the hard thing.

I'm the worst at this. I know exactly what I need to do to level up in life, in health, in relationships. I've read the books. I've taken the courses. I've listened to the podcasts. I have all the knowledge.

And yet.

I settle for good enough. For comfortable enough. For the sanitized version of growth that doesn't require too much discomfort.

Real life isn't sanitized. It's messy.

Life is lived by the true artists, the ones who fell rock-bottom, got bruised, smashed, bled, and bandaged themselves one cut at a time. The ones who found themselves, then jumped again without knowing where they'd land.

Think about the people you truly admire:

They didn't take the safe path.

They didn't settle for "pretty good."

They didn't hide from their truth

They faced themselves. Raw. Unfiltered. Honest.

This is what no one tells you: The moment you're truly honest with yourself is also the moment you feel most alive.

That conversation you're afraid to have? That dream you keep postponing? That version of yourself you keep hiding?

It's waiting on the other side of comfortable. It's waiting on the other side of safe. It's waiting on the other side of sanitized.

And you know the truth.

Deep down, beneath the excuses, beneath the "I'll do it tomorrow," beneath the "it's not the right time."

The truth is: You're afraid.

So am I.

We're afraid of what we might find if we truly open that door. We're afraid we might not be enough. We're afraid we might be too much.

But what's the alternative?

To live a half-life? To always wonder "what if." To be the person who knew the path but chose distraction instead?

The greatest pain isn't failing. It's looking back and knowing you never really tried.

Courage isn't about not being afraid. It’s about being terrified but taking that step anyway.

So here's my question to you: What truth are you avoiding today?

What hard conversation? What difficult choice? What version of yourself?

Because whatever you’re avoiding is exactly where your growth is hiding.

Someone recently called me out on not bringing a gift to their shindig. So I wrote this.

The Gift Trap: How Gift-Giving Became a Hostage Situation

I flirted with naming this the South Asian Gift Trap because that’s the most familiar to me. But I’d bet good money that this behavior extends to large parts of Asia, the Arab world, Africa, and the Americas (the whole world, maybe?).

So, kept it neutral.

What’s this behavior that’s gotten me annoyed?

Gift giving.

When?

Every. Frickin’. Time.

It could be visiting someone, the birth of a child, a dinner invite, or traveling back to the homeland. The list is endless.

When they visit, they bring gifts. It’s like an Indian mafia exchange, but instead of cash-stuffed envelopes, it’s clothes, toys, chocolates, homemade dishes, and the occasional jewelry.

And what if you refuse to participate? Boom—you’re the family villain.

I’m perfectly willing to be that villain to break this vicious cycle. I’ll take the blame.

But no. The family doesn’t like it.

Nope. Doesn’t work. We must hike through mandatory mountains of stress to find the “perfect” something. And no, chocolates and cake—which are, I suspect, what people actually want—aren’t considered premium gift material.

It has to be personal. Like clothes, apparently.

How is that even personal? They’re just clothes. I mean, we get them when necessary.

WHO NEEDS MORE?!

I have a ton of gifted tees that have never seen daylight (because they don’t fit!). People assume I’m still lean meat. In reality, I’m a bucketful of KFC (I never was lean meat. It just felt good writing it).

Continue reading…

A quote I came upon this week:

Distraction kills.

Know what you want.

And don’t get sidetracked.

Much love,

Parves

Mangofries