The Truth Does Not Depend on Being Believed
The word truth, according to the Oxford dictionary is:
“The true facts about something, rather than the things that have been invented or guessed”
This implies a degree of science when deciding about whether something is true or not? Would it not then make sense that some kind of object measuring device would be needed to determine the truth about a statement or a claim?
I certainly remember this when I did chemistry and physics at school. There were certain laws and formulary, equations that were unequivocal in telling the truth about a statement. I work in an environment where I request and interpret a plethora of tests, which either diagnose or rule out an array of medical conditions. These are even given specificity and sensitivity as to the likelihood that the result is a “true” indicator.
But what if you are considering the truth of something less scientific. Let’s say, matters of the heart. Can we apply the same equations, or tests, to determine the subjectivity of emotion? What about history? Can we believe the written word, about eras, historical events, people, places? How do we know the truth about the word of another? The perspective that another has on events long gone.
Take for example, two separate accounts of two people sharing an experience, and notice the differences in how each might describe what happened? Which one is true? Can both be true while being different? Is truth an absolute? If not, what does this mean for how we see the world and how we relate to others?
For just under a year, I have experienced a situation where my “truth” was challenged, rejected and vilified. For the first time in my life, I disclosed something significant to my family, the truth of which was rejected. This inspired me to write about the word truth and what it means, how it can be interpreted, denied, distorted and buried. I must stress, those who love me have believed me and accepted my truth, unreservedly.
But it got me to thinking, how can we believe the word of another if there is no evidence? What happens to our truth if it is contradicted by another’s version of this? Is the truth not an absolute but a bias of sorts? Of course, we don’t all tell the truth and lies are an easy manipulation of events, to suit the narrative according to the individual and unless we carry a polygraph around, there is no scientific way to detect.
I read somewhere that the truth does not depend on being believed. At first, this statement did little to soothe the pain of betrayal and rejection brought on by family members, denying my claims. But with a great deal of therapy and healing I have developed a new, more evolved perspective. I realised something important about my truth and the impact it had on those who heard it. As soon as I disclosed an historical event, involving an abusive experience, almost immediately I was silenced. Initially by way of rejection from the family, and soon after, by way of a solicitor’s letter.
I began to realise that I never got the chance to explain what had happened to me. This meant that those who rejected my truth did so without the any of the information. I started to understand that it wasn’t so much that I wasn’t believed, but that my truth was too catastrophic for their lives to cope with and like a child would do, they turned away from it and hoped it would go away.
However, the truth has a universal way of surfacing one way or another. I know that in time, the truth will come out, that I don’t need to spend any time or energy trying to force others to believe me. I began to accept the losses, the betrayal, the accusations that I am a liar. I stepped into my truth and this is enough. I know what happened to me. I don’t need a scientific equation or test to validate my experience.
I reported it to the police via a statement in the police station, where there were cameras on the wall and an audio recording of every word. My truth is forever memorialized via a report and this will remain permanent. I have also shared my truth with my therapist, much earlier than I shared it with my family in fact. I have written my truth, cried my truth, sat with my truth and will now grow because of it. For decades my truth was buried but at times, it forced its way to the surface.
One such time, was after I disclosed it to my mother. A true example of the subjectivity of truth, she redesigned what I had said, resulting in a distorted rumor, which carried its echo through decades of conversations between my family members. All the while, I was trying to bury my painful truth, it was as though the universe was prompting me, cajoling me, reminding me of what I held back, in the shadows persuading me to release it. The irony is that there were signs all these years visible for all those who have rejected my truth. But if the truth has a sting in its tail, wouldn’t you turn it away?
The truth is subjective, but there are some absolutes. If something happened to you, and it was an abuse of power, or trust, or a violation of personal boundaries, it matters not what the perspective is of the other person. This is absolute. You are allowed to express your truth. This can be the ugly truth, and nobody likes to be burdened by the pain caused by this. But it doesn’t make the truth go away. It will always find its way to the surface.
If you are experiencing the distress caused by any abuse or need to talk to someone, please reach out to your NHS GP, or NHS111. Alternatively, you can look up a list of your local counselling services on the internet, to engage a therapist. Of course, if, like me, you feel that your experience requires investigation, you can ring your local police service for support. If you feel you are in active danger of course, ring 999.
