There’s this thing that happens sometimes where everyone around you knows something, and you’re just walking around oblivious, thinking you’re fine. Like when you have food in your teeth, and people are too polite to say anything, so you go the whole day smiling like an idiot. Or worse, when it’s something bigger—something about who you are, how you’re showing up in the world, and nobody says a word.
It’s like they’re watching a train heading straight for you and instead of yelling, “Hey, move!” they’re just quietly sipping coffee, hoping you’ll figure it out on your own. Spoiler: you don’t.
I’ve been on both sides of this, by the way. I’ve been the guy with the metaphorical spinach in my teeth, and I’ve been the coward who didn’t say anything to someone else. Neither feels good. But being the one who’s in the dark? That’s worse. Because when you finally realize what’s going on—when someone finally spells it out for you—you can’t help but wonder how long people have been noticing and not saying anything.
It happened to me once with this job. I thought I was killing it. Like, really crushing it. Showing up, doing the work, making an impact. And then one day, I had a meeting with my boss where she told me, not unkindly but definitely bluntly, that I wasn’t as effective as I thought I was. I wasn’t communicating well. I wasn’t taking feedback. I was, apparently, “difficult.”
I sat there blinking, trying to process. “Difficult” was not a word I would’ve used to describe myself. Efficient, maybe. Direct. Honest. But difficult? Nah. Except the second she said it, I realized she was right. I could see it all at once—the eye rolls in meetings, the quiet resistance from my team, the fact that people always seemed a little relieved when I wasn’t in the room.
And honestly? That moment sucked. But it also changed everything.
That’s the thing about hard truths. They’re awful to hear, but they’re also freeing. It’s like someone’s been holding up a funhouse mirror, and you’ve been staring at this distorted version of yourself, thinking it’s real. Then they hand you a normal mirror, and it’s jarring. But it’s also kind of a relief because now you know what you’re dealing with.
But here’s the thing: most people won’t hand you that mirror. They’ll keep nodding and smiling and saying, “You’re doing great,” because they think they’re sparing your feelings. They’re not. They’re sparing themselves the discomfort of watching you react to the truth.
I’ve had friends tell me years later about things they noticed at the time but didn’t tell me because they “didn’t want to upset me.” Like when I was in a bad relationship and everyone could see it except me. Or when I was chasing an idea that was clearly doomed, and people just let me keep going, nodding along like it was genius.
And I get it. I’ve done the same thing to other people. You don’t want to be the jerk who bursts someone’s bubble. But honestly? Maybe we need to be more okay with being jerks.
The times in my life when someone’s told me a hard truth—like really laid it out for me—those are the moments that changed me. Not the pats on the back, not the polite lies, but the “Hey, you’re messing this up, and here’s how” conversations.
One of my favorite people in the world has this way of calling me out that’s both infuriating and perfect. Like, they’ll just look at me and say, “You know you’re being ridiculous, right?” And I’ll argue for a minute, try to defend myself, but deep down I know they’re right.
We all need someone like that. Someone who cares enough to tell us the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable.
The other thing I’ve learned is that sometimes, the hardest truths don’t come from other people. They come from situations. Like when you keep applying for jobs and nobody calls you back, or when your relationships keep falling apart, and you’re the common denominator. Those silent truths are harder to face because there’s no one to blame, no one to argue with. It’s just you and the reality you’ve been avoiding.
But man, when you face it? That’s where the magic is. That’s when you finally stop pretending and start figuring out what to do next.
So yeah, hard truths suck. But you know what sucks more? Living in the dark, pretending everything’s fine, while everyone around you knows the thing you don’t. If I’ve learned anything, it’s this: be the person who hands someone the mirror. And if someone hands you one, no matter how much it stings, take it.
Because at the end of the day, I’d rather deal with the truth than live in denial. Even if it means hearing something I don’t want to hear. Especially then.
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