Little Belle's Mama

Everyone says they want honesty—until they get it. It sounds good in theory, like something we should all strive for. Be real. Be honest. Be transparent. But in practice? Honesty makes people uncomfortable. Because the truth, more often than not, isn’t what people want to hear. They want comfort dressed up as truth. They want their decisions validated, not questioned. Their ego stroked, not challenged. And they’ll call it honesty until it stops agreeing with them.

This is why so many friendships and relationships are built on half-truths. Not necessarily lies, but curated truths. Filtered feelings. People learn early that being fully honest can come with consequences. Rejection, judgment, conflict. So instead of saying what they mean, they say what they think the other person wants to hear. It feels safer. But safety isn’t the same as real connection. You can be liked by everyone and still not feel truly known by anyone.

The real reason people avoid honesty isn’t because they don’t know how to say the truth—it’s because they’re afraid of what happens after they do. What happens when you finally tell someone you don’t feel respected? What happens when you admit you’re not happy, even if everything looks good on the outside? What happens when you say, “I see through this,” or “I don’t agree,” or “That hurt me”? People might distance themselves. They might call you dramatic, sensitive, or difficult. And sometimes, that fear keeps people silent for years.

But silence has a cost. Every time you bite your tongue to avoid tension, a little piece of your truth goes unspoken. And over time, that silence builds resentment. You start resenting the friend who always crosses your boundaries. The partner who doesn’t see you. The job that drains you. But deep down, what you’re really resenting is your own avoidance. Your fear of rocking the boat. Your unwillingness to be seen fully, flaws and all.

There’s this idea that honesty should always be kind. But honesty isn’t always gentle. Sometimes it’s raw. Sometimes it cuts. And sometimes, it needs to. Because not every truth is soft. Some truths come with edges. But that doesn’t make them wrong. It makes them real. Growth doesn’t come from hearing what you want—it comes from hearing what you need. And often, what you need is the very thing you’ve been trying to avoid.

This is especially true in relationships. People talk about “communication” like it’s a skill, but real communication takes courage more than technique. It’s easy to communicate when everything’s fine. But try speaking your truth when it risks making someone angry. When it might disappoint them. When it might change the way they see you. That’s where real honesty lives—not in the easy conversations, but in the hard ones.

And here’s the tricky part: some people don’t want to hear the truth because deep down, they already know it. They just don’t want to face it. They know the relationship isn’t working. They know they’re not showing up as their best self. They know they’re stuck. But hearing it out loud forces a decision. Forces change. And change is scary. So they reject the truth-teller instead of the truth. They make the honest person the problem, because that’s easier than confronting what the honesty revealed.

But if you’ve ever been the one to speak up, you know it doesn’t feel easy. It feels lonely. People say “I appreciate your honesty,” but what they often mean is “I appreciate your honesty when it doesn’t inconvenience me.” Tell someone you don’t want the same things as them, and suddenly you’re cold. Call out a friend’s self-destructive behavior, and suddenly you’re judgmental. Set a boundary, and suddenly you’re selfish. But that’s the price of being real. Not everyone will clap for it.

Still, there’s a difference between honesty and cruelty. Being real doesn’t mean being reckless. You can be direct without being disrespectful. You can tell the truth without turning it into a weapon. But even when you’re thoughtful, people may still take it the wrong way. That’s not on you. Your job isn’t to control their reaction. Your job is to be true to yourself. To stop shrinking your truth to protect other people’s comfort.

It’s also worth noting that being honest with others doesn’t mean you owe everyone an explanation. Some people weaponize “honesty” to force access to your feelings. But you don’t have to unpack your soul just because someone asks. Honesty includes boundaries. You can say “I’m not ready to talk about that,” or “That’s private for me,” and still be truthful. Honesty doesn’t mean over-sharing. It means being authentic. Sometimes authenticity means silence. Sometimes it means saying, “I don’t know.”

And then there’s the hardest kind of honesty: being honest with yourself. Admitting when you stayed too long in something that didn’t serve you. Owning the ways you self-sabotaged. Facing the fact that you were wrong, or that you hurt someone. That kind of truth is brutal. But it’s also freeing. Because once you face it, you stop hiding from yourself. You stop needing distractions, or denial, or constant validation. You stand in who you are—even the messy parts. Especially the messy parts.

When you get honest with yourself, your life starts to change. You stop settling. You stop pretending. You stop performing. And people either adjust to the real you—or they don’t. Either way, you win. Because you’re no longer living in someone else’s version of the truth. You’re living in your own. That doesn’t mean it gets easier. But it does mean it gets more real. And real, even when it’s hard, is always better than fake.

So yes, most people say they want honesty. But what they really want is a version of the truth that doesn’t disturb their comfort. If you choose to be real anyway, know this: it might cost you some things. But it will never cost you your self-respect. And that’s a trade worth making every time.