growing old

I am all about spilling my guts. I can share my war wounds with the best of them. I am not a shy or modest type. I'm honest to a fault. I've always shared my own true feelings openly and used to think that was one of my strengths. I now know when to share and what to share, at least I think I do.

As I've learned, when I was younger, apparently I didn't have the skill of tact, if you will. In my adult years, I have had many friends and family members make mention of "how I've grown"- in reference to my blatent observations, I guess you could say. They congratulated me as if it were a change that I had made purposely. One of my dear friends put it gently as you were "brutally honest" - essentially we all know what that meant, right? I was a bitch!

I recall when she said that. I know she meant it as a compliment- that I was better for it. I tried not to look too hurt, but I was. I have never meant to hurt a soul in my life. I never knew that this was the perception of me until I was well into my twenties.

The growth that they all noticed was not conscious, on my part. I wonder if it was truly a growing up experience or if I was at all aware of the alienation I may have been causing. I suppose I edit and hold my tongue these days. I still have an opinion, but I try my best to offer them up only when it's appropriate.

I think as I have gotten older my opinions have gotten, well, older, too. I have become more conservative in some of my thoughts. I think that's a normal progression that just comes with age. All the credit I recieved for "growing", I believe was mistaken for just getting old.