Scratching the surface

Sometimes it's great to see beneath the old coat of paint to reveal the true wood shining through. However, sometimes the veneer peels off to reveal only cheap, unwelcome particle board. It is this second instance that I hate. Especially when it is the people in my life showing their true colours. Perhaps I missed the signs before, or did not want to admit that you are racist, shallow, small-minded, bigoted, angry, petty, elitist... but when it becomes apparent, I question not only you, but also me, for not realizing sooner. What counts as a deal-breaker? At what point do I lose respect for you, or can I just avoid particular topics and we can pretend this didn't happen? Does that make me a bad person also? To whom do I owe my allegiance when you bad-mouth those people I thought were mutual friends?

It was not so many years ago that I finally realized that members of my family are not perfect. I think this is one of the hardest realizations a person can come to in her life. These people, to whom I have been taught to look up, are as capable of being mean-spirited and small-minded as those people they have taught you to criticize. There are many things they say that I am at least slightly disgusted by, but I stay silent to keep the peace. At what point is the peace no longer worth it? When do we learn to speak up in such a way that those who love us will actually listen, instead of nodding their heads sagely and staring over your head as they allow the words to flit through their heads without sticking? Why is it that it is often those we love who are the hardest to speak to, and with, and sometimes even about?

No one wants to admit that those people in their life are not perfect, and what skeletons are not worthy to be drawn from the closet vary by individual. I am more likely to reveal information about my family that many would deem highly personal and private, while holding to my breast bits and pieces that may appear mundane in comparison. But they are my bits and pieces to hold or drop, as the situation allows. Knowing me, I'll make the wrong decision about who I told what and when, so perhaps I should just let it all out? But where's the mystery in that?

I have had an inkling for some time now that however it is I present myself to others is not actually how I see myself. This has become increasingly apparent as I hear my friends mention things they think they know about me, and I find myself disagreeing. But how do you tell the people you have spent the most time with over the last few months that they seem to have no idea who you actually are? This was brought home to me as I spent time with my sister shopping, and as we pulled out the dresses I liked, I commented that none of the friends I was currently spending time with would agree that "that's my style." As my sister sagely pointed out, "well, perhaps I know you better than they do." I hope this is true, but it is still troubling. If they don't know who I am, and I don't know how I present myself to them to make them think thus, then do I really even know who I am? If someone scratched my surface, would they find oak or particle board? Would I shine with polishing and stand the test of time, or instead crumble as I am handled? I would hope the former, but perhaps I no longer know. How does one find out? Trial by fire, even if only metaphorical, does not sound particularly desirable. Introspection has obviously not worked to this point. Other suggestions?