Re-learning Trust as Someone With C-PTSD
Trigger Warning: Discussing C-PTSD & trauma triggers from a firsthand perspective.
Trust is such an important facet of any healthy relationship – especially in relationships that practice Ethical Non-Monogamy (ENM). As I further my own practice in cultivating long-term partnerships while simultaneously retaining Relationship Anarchy ideals, I regularly come back to the concept of trust and how it fits in to various aspects of authentic relating.
Trigger Warning: Discussing C-PTSD & trauma triggers from a firsthand perspective.
Trust is such an important facet of any healthy relationship – especially in relationships that practice Ethical Non-Monogamy (ENM). As I further my own practice in cultivating long-term partnerships while simultaneously retaining Relationship Anarchy ideals, I regularly come back to the concept of trust and how it fits in to various aspects of authentic relating.
I find one of the hardest parts about building and maintaining healthy, lasting relationships is my hypervigilance around betrayal. Throughout my life I experienced “betrayal trauma,” which is specific trauma that is caused by another person, typically by someone we are close to. For me, it was a combination of growing up learning that trusting others was dangerous, and experiences in adulthood I had with deception and betrayal in close, intimate relationships.
These past traumas find their way into my system at various moments in my core partnership, sometimes triggered by an external circumstance, but often they show up unannounced, unwelcomed, and without context.
For me, this makes it hard to uphold the Relationship Anarchy Manifesto’s principle: “Trust is Better.”
What is Trust?
I decided to research how trauma affects one’s ability to trust, and provide strategies for navigating healing from relational trauma, learning to trust again, and re-building skills to branch trust outward.
I started by examining the definition of “trust,” and looked at some studies that focused on the relationship between one’s level of betrayal trauma and one’s ability to trust.
According to the American Psychological Association (APA), trust can be defined as:
“(n) reliance on or confidence in the dependability of someone or something.”
APA defines trust further in a relational context as:
“…the confidence that a person or group of people has in the reliability of another person or group; specifically, it is the degree to which each party feels they can depend on the other party to do what they say they will do...”
I find it important to acknowledge that by this definition, trust does not refer to a person’s inherent goodness, but refers to the consistency of a person’s behavior patterns. For me, taking ethics out of the equation and focusing on behavior helps me navigate my own patterns and issues with trusting without a lot of self-judgment.
When Trust is Damaged
In a 2013 study at the University of Oregon, Gobin & Freyd examined how betrayal trauma might impact a person’s ability to trust in a “Trust Game” environment. In the Trust Game, participants were asked to transfer money to another person, in exchange for getting the same amount of money back. The recipient was actually a computer system which was programmed to return $1 regardless of the amount received. The study used self-report survey measures to gauge the participants’ general and relational trust, and the Trust Game task measured differences in choices between those with and without betrayal trauma.
The study found that the more severe the betrayal trauma was, the less likely a person was to report high measures of general or relational trust. The researchers were surprised to find that participants with high betrayal trauma were no less likely to participate in the Trust Game than the participants with low betrayal trauma.
Another 2018 study examined the relationship between trust and participants with PTSD, using a similar “Trust Game” set up. In this study, Bell et al. noticed that the participants who suffered from PTSD made lower-risk choices than the control group, but still made effort to participate, nonetheless.
These studies reflect aspects of my own experience as a person living with C-PTSD. I struggle to trust deeply, but my desire to try and build trust is also strong.
PTSD and Interpersonal Trauma
Betrayal Trauma Theory (BTT), first coined by Jennifer Freyd in 1994, states that those who suffer from betrayal trauma are likely to dissociate from the trauma in order to preserve the relationship, usually for survival purposes. When betrayal trauma happens in childhood, usually with a caregiver, this dissociation is likely to affect adulthood relationship choices. Those with more severe childhood betrayal trauma are more likely to struggle with recognizing trustworthiness or -unworthiness in others. This causes the survivor to experience more trauma in adulthood.
As someone who lives with C-PTSD, trust is one of the hardest things for me to navigate. In earlier years, I struggled with trusting the right people. My sense of “safe” and “unsafe” were so skewed by years of adapting to dangerous environments that I continued choosing friends and partners who reflected this instability. This only led to more traumatic experiences.
When I finally decided to take my healing seriously, I allowed myself to recognize that I could not trust myself when it came to knowing who was healthy or not. I dedicated time to reflect on past friendships and relationships to find threads and signals I could have recognized earlier in getting to know them. I started paying attention to how my body reacted around certain cues and situations.
I came to the revelation that more times than not, my body knew the right choice about someone right away. It was my mind that stopped trusting my intuition. When I started intentionally listening to my gut reactions, I noticed that I started making better choices in friends and beloveds. Seeing this change in my community inspired me to feel safe enough to begin exploring deeper levels of trust with others again.
Rebuilding Trust
After “recalibrating my sensors,” I began developing loving, healthy relationships with trustworthy people. During this time, I discovered Relationship Anarchy and began internalizing it as a core part of my relating philosophy.
I started this practice with a Solo-Poly structure because I needed to focus on myself as “primary.” Even though I am now cohabiting with a partner, I still believe that I am my own first priority. Taking on this perspective, and living alone at the time, helped me learn how to trust and confide in myself, first.
This went well for a while, and I felt strong and secure in my ability to trust and love until I began cohabiting with my core partner. For me, cohabitation is a huge source of trauma triggers as my most traumatic events happened with people I lived with.
Although my core partner is an amazing and trustworthy person, my nervous system activated at the slightest things. This is one reason we have taken a “time out” on outer relationships, to stabilize and ground together without extra distraction or activation.
This experience is teaching me that trust has many layers. I can completely trust my partner to be transparent with me, to treat me with respect and love, however, I still struggle to fully trust that my home is stable and safe, now that I’m not in full control of that environment.
So, this is where my next area of trust focus is. Again, I am starting with myself – feeling safe in my space within the home, feeling safe within myself in our shared spaces, and feeling that this is *my* home, too. Only after fortifying myself, do I then lean into trust exercises about my partner.
Helpful Strategies to Re-learn Trust
Something I’m learning as I continue to deepen with my core partner is that rebuilding trust skills takes a lot of time and work. I must teach my nerves that I’m safe in my new home. Safety outside of aloneness is an unfamiliar sensation for me, so it takes constant reminding for myself, a lot of transparency, and co-regulation with my core partner.
Rebuilding trust after betrayal trauma requires community and safe space. Here is a list of things that help me during this process:
Guided Meditation – Tara Brach
Taking time to learn someone’s patterns (instead of decided to fully give or deny trust immediately)
Learning how to recognize and trust my intuition (for me, it’s a body feeling)
Learning how to reflect on where I have been right and wrong in trust-giving in the past WITHOUT JUDGMENT
Healthy co-regulation with my core partner and/or trusted friends/beloveds
Safe space to be transparent about feelings that are coming up for me in a moment
Ex: my bedroom is a safe space
Seeing a therapist who specializes in PTSD/C-PTSD treatment
For me, EMDR therapy specifically
“Quieting” the environment by taking away extra factors that cause triggering
Listening to a 24/7 Meditation Music channel in the background can also help
Developing solo rituals that I enjoy to calm my nerves
Ex: taking a bath, drinking tea & reading a good book, etc.
Allowing my process to take its time (not rushing things)
Healthy co-regulation with my core partner or trusted friends helps me learn skills to internalize into self-regulation during moments of activation. Sometimes I find it helpful to think of myself as a friend or client that I’m giving advice to.
Hopefully some of these strategies and insights are helpful for you, or someone you love. Sending wishes to you all!
— written by Amelia Lichtenberg
Helpful Resources:
Relationship Anarchy Manifesto - Andie Nordgren
Betrayal Trauma Overview (wikipedia)
When Trust is Lost: The Impact of Interpersonal Trauma on Social Interactions
The Impact of Betrayal Trauma on the Tendency to Trust
Guided Meditations by Tara Brach
7 Ways to Help Regulate Your Nervous System When You are Stressed
Coming Back to Oneness
CW: C-PTSD mentioned
I had to take time away from non-monogamy in my relationship because my nervous system exploded. It was painful and threw me way off balance, but what was and is even harder for me is the identity crisis that went along with it. I allowed my ego to get attached to the identity of “spokesperson for Ethical Non-Monogamy,” or, as my core partner teasingly calls me, the “Non-Monogamy Expert,” but here I was, triggers flying everywhere, expressing jealousy and insecurity to the point where my core partner asked for us to be monogamous for the time being. It is embarrassing, and it has been hard for me to get back to writing on here because of this cognitive dissonance.
A Reflection on the Importance of the Relationship with Oneself
CW: Mentions of C-PTSD
Related and referenced resources are listed at the bottom of this page!
I had to take time away from non-monogamy in my relationship because my nervous system exploded. It was painful and threw me way off balance, but what was and is even harder for me is the identity crisis that went along with it. I allowed my ego to get attached to the identity of “spokesperson for Ethical Non-Monogamy,” or, as my core partner teasingly calls me, the “Non-Monogamy Expert,” but here I was, triggers flying everywhere, expressing jealousy and insecurity to the point where my core partner asked for us to be monogamous for the time being. It is embarrassing, and it has been hard for me to get back to writing on here because of this cognitive dissonance.
The last time I wrote an article on here I was just meeting my core partner, and thus I was still operating from a vastly different relational framework than I am today. I thought that I was past a lot of my triggers around possession, codependence and jealousy. Before I began building my partnership this was true, but only as far as I could interface with them in the Solo-Polyamorous (SoPo) framework I was operating from. For me, the vulnerability that comes with cohabitation is a very sensitive area where a lot of my trauma and triggers reside. As I grew into a partnership dynamic with my beloved, and as we grew closer and took steps toward cohabiting I noticed a lot of unresolved trauma and fears began to resurface.
The combination of moving into my partner’s house and him starting to explore a new connection for the first time in our relationship triggered powerful C-PTSD flashbacks and intense trauma responses. Despite obvious signs that my nervous system was on overdrive, I tried to push through and be supportive of his exploration. I wanted to be supportive of his exploration. I also felt that I had to be better than my triggers for anything I say on my platforms to be authentic or meaningful. The self-imposed pressure from this fed into my patterns of shaming and cruel self-speak over whether I was actually “good at non-monogamy,” and I questioned my genuine capacity for compersion. I wondered if the rigid morals of my Catholic upbringing were just too strong to unravel, and if this meant I had to rethink how I presented myself to the world.
Instead of taking time and space to hold myself with compassion during these intense shifts, I ended up hurting myself and the dynamics in my relationships because of my pride. Even when things finally settled down and we mutually decided to take a break from our other connections to focus on settling in together, I disregarded the opportunity to pause and reflect with curiosity and compassion. I began obsessing about making sure I would be ready quickly to go back to our non-monogamous dynamics, so that the next time my partner and his lover were together I could show everyone that I really could be compersionate. I had something to prove, and I had to prove it as soon as possible. This only led to more tension betwith my core partner and less inclination to get back to relating in a non-monogamous framework.
Eventually I hit a breaking point which forced me to finally take a step back from obsessing about how others viewed my relationships and identity. I started to see how I was relating with myself, instead. When I spoke with another beloved about the shifts happening in my core relationship, he calmly told me “nothing would make me happier than to see you take some time for yourself, so that you can reflect on the ways you want to relate with yourself first and foremost.” This struck me.
I began to dive deep into finding ways to rebuild my own sense of a secure self. I recognized that regardless of how many acts and declarations of love, care, and devotion my partner gave me, it is nearly impossible for me to wholeheartedly receive them if I am insecure in my relationship to myself. Amidst the embarrassment and obsessive thoughts, I found it incredibly difficult to remain still and content. I noticed my mind trying to force myself into being ready to try again. Unfortunately, this pushing backfired because my nervous system wasn’t ready yet. I find myself feeling so uncomfortable at the idea of being monogamous after spending so much time discussing RA in a non-monogamous setting, but I ultimately must recognize where my own limitations are now. After all, I’m only human, and that’s okay.
I read on Marie Thouin’s blog that compersion is difficult to cultivate when a person feels deeply insecure in themself or their relationship dynamics, when their mind or body aren’t well taken care of, and during stressful times. Moving in with my partner ignited my C-PTSD triggers around abandonment and home security, and I recognize that I was in full-on flashback mode throughout those initial weeks of the transition. Alongside stress around upcoming my grad school interview, and issues with work, it’s no wonder why I struggled to feel compersion or security in the newly evolving dynamics.
When I began allowing myself to accept where I was at in my process and remind myself that there’s no shame in my trauma history, I noticed that out of everyone involved in the situation I was the only one holding onto it. I was the only one deeming myself incapable of cohabiting and non-monogamy. Changing my focus to how I’m showing up for myself opened me up to see how overstimulated I was. I started to slow down, take time to rest, and lean into the monogamous “settling-in” period my partner requested. I began to uncover roots of where the shame around my identity confusion arose, and I started diving deeper into my EMDR treatment for my C-PTSD, rather than spend my therapy sessions crisis managing each triggering moment in my relationship.
Slowing down helped me realize that unless I can take care of myself and treat myself with kindness and care, it’s impossible for me to show up in any of my relationships (regardless of structure) the way I want to. As I write this reflection, there is still a part of me that is antsy to get back to non-monogamous relating, but slowly it’s becoming about my genuine excitement and passion for connection again, rather than my perfectionist obsessions. There is also a larger part of me that is grateful for this “settling in” time with my core, because my nervous system is still fragile and healing. I am beginning to recognize when I’m more likely to be activated, take appropriate steps to navigate those moments, and I’m learning new strategies to cope with the somatic responses each time.
Right now, the goal for me is to focus on the quality of my relationships regardless of their structure and to let go of positive/negative associates with monogamy and non-monogamy, respectively. I believe that until I truly let go of my attachments to either identity, I will find myself in this same struggle at some point again. The most important thing I’ve come to realize during this time is that regardless of what relationship style I’m actively engaged in I can still share my message about conscious relating and loving openly, the “pillars” of Relationship Anarchy", recognizing that it all starts with our relationship within.
— Written by Amelia Lichtenberg
The Difference Between Boundaries and Rules
Something that comes up in so many discussions I have about Relationship Anarchy is boundaries, rules, and expectations. Honestly, it’s so important that it comes up in any conversation about relationships, regardless of philosophy or style! I find this is especially prevalent in non-monogamous dynamics as there tend to be more navigational requirements around these topics than for monogamous folx.
Something that comes up in so many discussions I have about Relationship Anarchy is boundaries, rules, and expectations. Honestly, it’s so important that it comes up in any conversation about relationships, regardless of philosophy or style! I find this is especially prevalent in non-monogamous dynamics as there tend to be more navigational requirements around these topics than for monogamous folx.
This week I wanted to dial in and focus on the difference between boundaries and rules. I want to share my definitions of these terms, how I differentiate them from each other, and some areas where I’ve seen these come up in my own relationships and the relationships of those around me.
Please be aware that this is just a reflection of my own experiences, and these definitions and perspectives may not be helpful for everyone. This isn’t a one-size-fits-all kind of thing!
What is a boundary?
The Merriam-Webster dictionary definition of a boundary is:
Noun:
Something that indicates or fixes a limit or extent.
So, what does this look like in relationships?
I like to think of boundaries as structures that help a person stay on the right path. If I am a forest and my beloved wants to explore the forest, then they would likely use a pathway. My boundaries would be the areas where the path and the forest floor meet, indicating where is and isn’t appropriate to walk.
It is also up to me to maintain clear pathways within my forest, so that others know where is and isn’t okay to walk.
De-stigmatizing the concept of boundaries
I hear people focusing on the “limit” aspect of a boundary often. I know I have at some point in my journey with boundaries. In this perspective boundaries are viewed more as walls that stop a direction dead in its tracks. In my experiences, this perspective can create a lot of anxiety toward the mere concept of boundaries, let alone expressing them. Often it is through this perspective where boundaries can be mistaken for rules, as it has a more aggressive tone to it. That aggression can cause unnecessary conflict within a conversation or connection.
Instead of perceiving boundaries as a wall which denies access to something or a part of someone, I see boundaries as the barriers which help us find the best path to take. Rather than focusing on the limiting aspect of the boundary, I choose to see boundaries as helpful guardrails guiding me along the path to deeper, more wholesome connections. This perspective shift helps me to de-stigmatize boundaries and unravel the notion that they are synonymous with rules.
How do I know if this a boundary instead of a rule?
A lot of information I’ve seen on the net talks about boundaries as if they are synonymous with rules. I think this is a harmful way to approach boundaries because it can create controlling dynamics in relationship negotiating. This is especially true for non-monogamous relationships, where there is more communication and navigation of peoples’ needs, wants, limits, and edges required.
Something I emphasize heavily in my own relationships is that Radical Transparency around wants, needs, boundaries and expectations is extremely important. This is so that I can make the most informed decision about how best to engage with the other person, and I want to give them the opportunity to do the same. I also emphasize expressing these truths in a way that preserves the other person’s autonomy.
I make my needs clear, but I do not force the other person to help me meet those needs. Instead, I welcome them to support me meeting my needs in whatever ways they authentically can or want to.
So, how we differentiate between boundaries and rules? Here is a list of a few key traits that identify a boundary:
· The boundary/need expressed serves a self-care/self-maintenance function.
· The person who expresses the boundary takes accountability for fulfilling this need.
· The person expressing the boundary does so in a way that invites autonomy support for the recipient but does not force it.
The emphasis is always on one’s own experiences and actions when discussing a boundary. Boundaries typically express something a person needs to navigate a situation or conversation safely and healthily, and clearly identifying and expressing the boundary is a self-care practice on its own.
Rules, on the other hand, place explicit emphasis on what the other must do to resolve the unmet want or need.
Rules in relationships
The Merriam-Webster dictionary definition of rule is:
Noun:
1. One of a set of explicit or understood regulations or principles governing conduct within a particular activity or sphere.
2. Control of or dominion over an area or people.
Verb:
1. Exercise ultimate power or authority over (an area and its people)
2. Pronounce authoritatively and legally to be the case
That’s a mouthful, I know.
Something that sticks out to me about this definition is the emphasis on authoritarian interaction styles. The essence of a rule is that one party is asserting a semblance of control over another. Sometimes this is consensual (agreed-upon rules), and sometimes this is not.
Identifying traits of a rule are:
· An abundance of “you statements.” (Ex: “you must check in with me once every hour when you’re on a date”).
· A threat of punishment for the person who does not adhere to the rule.
· The rule places the responsibility of meeting a want or need on the other person, and not on the person with the want/need.
The key trait that I sit with is that rules force the other party to take accountability for the wellness of the person setting the rule. Unlike boundaries, which serve a purpose of self-maintenance, rules can be set for any number of reasons – both healthy and unhealthy ones.
There are certain times when rules do make sense, though. As I mentioned above, there are times when boundaries can lead to the creation of rules in relationships. I see this often in non-monogamous relationships where children, co-habiting, or shared finances are present. Just as with boundaries, I think that the inherently contractual and authoritarian aspect of rules makes them seem more destructive.
When in a relationship where shared assets or children are involved, rules may need to be set to protect both parties and/or the children from potentially serious consequences of not following said rules. These could be things ranging from spending money in a shared bank account to new beloveds meeting children.
As with anything, the rule itself is not inherently a bad thing. It is how rules are discussed and why they are being implemented.
In my own relationships
I try to keep rules to a minimum in my more intimate relationships. I admit this is easier for me than some others because I am not legally married, co-habiting, or co-parenting with any of my beloveds.
Instead of implementing rules in my relationships, I have standards for Radical Transparency and practices I ask my beloveds to participate in for the sake of navigating mental, emotional, and physical health and wellness. For me, supporting my beloveds’ autonomy is one of the most important parts of relating, and I feel that implementing rules is counterproductive.
When I have created rules in past relationships, it has always boiled down to an attempt to curb an insecurity within myself. As I continue discovering new things about my relating self, I find that I tend to focus more on finding the “edge” of my comfort zone where the rule wants to come from and seeing if I can identify unmet wants or needs to communicate instead. Recognizing that my feelings, wants, and needs are my own responsibility encourages me to communicate these things to beloveds in a nonviolent way.
I use Nonviolent Communication (NVC) as a nice framework for inner dialogue about my edges and how those translate into boundaries in relationships. You can use my Finding Your Edges guided meditation as a framework for this reflective process.
— written by Amelia Lichtenberg
An Introduction to Radical Transparency
RT is a dedicated practice where we allow those in connection with us more insight into our present moment experience. This can mean a beloved, friend, or family member. This can also mean a business colleague or a stranger we have a momentary interaction with. Most importantly, this also means connection with oneself.
For me Radical Transparency (RT) is a core value. It’s so important that I have it as a key facet in my definition of Relationship Anarchy, and it is one of the first things I address with my clients.
When I talk about Radical Transparency I am typically faced with a few prominent questions, mainly:
· What is the difference between RT and just being transparent?
· Doesn’t RT lead to over-sharing? How do you maintain boundaries at the same time?
· What’s the point if no one else is being radically transparent with me, but I am with them?
· Being honest about something ended up with me being hurt in the end, why would I do that again?
All of these are important questions, and this week’s writing addresses all these points.
What is Radical Transparency?
Radical Transparency refers to the practice of openly sharing what is alive for us within any given moment. This practice allows us and our beloveds to know where our/their intentions are and helps foster deeper levels of understanding. - Emily’s definition
“Awakening to the Other Self” (2018)
RT is a dedicated practice where we allow those in connection with us more insight into our present moment experience. This can mean a beloved, friend, or family member. This can also mean a business colleague or a stranger we have a momentary interaction with. Most importantly, this also means connection with oneself.
What makes this practice radical as opposed to just “being transparent” is that there is a constant engagement with the act of transparency. It’s not just about being honest but about being honest with intention.
For me, practicing RT is a conscious choice. While I tend to be a rather transparent person by nature, I still have moments where my instinct is to hide a facet of my present experience from whomever I am engaging with. This may be hiding a moment of depression from a beloved or being quiet about a personal struggle during a client’s session. Sometimes there is a valid reason for withholding sharing with another, however, I find that how I’m addressing the experience within myself is where the difference really lies.
I understand the idea of “being transparent” as typically referring to how one interacts with the external world, meaning that being transparent refers to how we interact with others. RT, however, emphasizes transparency in all connections in all moments – that means in moments within ourselves as well.
Radical Transparency is not the same as oversharing
RT doesn’t necessarily imply that we are encouraged to overshare our experiences with others, nor does it mean crossing ours or others boundaries within sharing for the sake of “being transparent.”
I will use the example above regarding times when I am struggling with a personal issue during a session with a client to showcase this. As one might anticipate, it would be a boundary violation of the consultant/client relationship for me to openly share my woes during the session. I have a duty to be present with and for my client during our time together.
When something in my personal life is so alive for me that I feel its presence in my sessions, I take note of it within myself. A few minutes before a session begins, I will sit with the aliveness and be radically transparent with myself about my current state of being. RT in this instance is honoring my current state of being, while also being mindful of what boundaries are in place for the coming interaction. I allow myself space in this reflection to assess and decide what I need to successfully transition into the session, and I go from there. Taking this time with myself allows me to show up for my client in the fullest capacity that I may.
Often my clients bring a similar concern or situation from their own life into session and act as a mirror to my own story. I am typically able to see or pick up on patterns and thoughts both in them (and myself) that I might not have caught otherwise. Without directly expressing to them that I have a resonating experience, I can lead the conversation with this in heart. This usually lends itself to a very productive session for both parties.
I consider this a form of RT because I am intentionally not hiding anything about my present experience from the client, but I am also not directly sharing what I am experiencing with words. I am using my experience to inform how I connect with them and stay present with their experience, which makes the moment our experience.
When a client asks me if I’ve experienced the conflict they are discussing, I answer with a more direct type of RT. I will say whether I have or haven’t experienced that conflict, and if they ask for insight into how I navigated it, I will share what insight I believe will be most helpful for them. I can share “yes, this was hard for me, too, and here is how I navigated that,” without oversharing the details of those long, painful nights in between Point A and Point B.
Please note that I am not a licensed therapist and my consulting practice does not adhere to the same boundaries as a licensed psychotherapist. My future therapeutic practice will, however, reflect those boundaries.
I make it a point to iterate to my clients that I believe inner work is a lifelong practice, and that my own journey is ongoing. This allows for interactions to become human-to-human, rather than just consultant-to-client. Boundaries are still in place, but the perceived power dynamic within the interaction is lessened.
Maintaining boundaries while practicing RT
It can be easy to perceive RT as a means for pushing boundaries (this includes oversharing). I want to iterate that truly embodying RT includes a wholehearted understanding and acceptance of our and others’ boundaries.
Part of being radically transparent with oneself includes knowing our boundaries. For me, I can overshare sometimes because of my deeply ingrained people-pleasing trauma responses. The wounded child within me feels the need to explain myself constantly. In being radically transparent with myself about the source of this behavior and with how much information I really want to share, I was able to discover where my sharing boundary is.
With my sharing boundary firmly in my mind and heart, I set out to learn new ways to share my experiences with others that feel authentic to my needs as well. Often I find that the best way to practice RT and maintain my boundary is to accurately name my experience and my intention for sharing. For me this looks like: “I’m experiencing/feeling _____, and I would rather not talk about it. I’m just letting you know, so that you can know where I’m at right now.”
RT does not mean we have to share all of the details of our inner world with another, but it does mean that we dedicate intention to naming our experiences in a moment to those around us to avoid potential miscommunication, and to foster deeper understanding.
Being radically transparent in a non-transparent world
Sometimes I find it disheartening how many people struggle with honesty and transparency in our society. Through my experiences with friends, lovers, and colleagues, I’ve come to the conclusion that these struggles come from a mixture of poor communication skills and a lack of RT practice within the self. This may not be true of everyone, but it helps me lean into deeper compassion in moments where my RT practice is not reciprocated.
I truly believe that the only way to foster more connection based in RT is to be the initiator. How can others discover the true freedom in Radical Transparency if they don’t experience it firsthand? A core part of my practice as a Relationship Anarchist is acknowledging that I have no control over the people in my life. That includes their abilities to meet me in radically transparent spaces.
I find that when being radically transparent with another it can be easy to see when it’s not being reciprocated. I combat this discord with more Radical Transparency. I kindly and compassionately name my experience, and I inquire with genuine curiosity about their perspective. In the event that this does not foster mutual RT, I kindly and transparently assert my boundary and shift in desire.
Sometimes people may come off as not being transparent when they believe they are. There are plenty of potential explanations for this, but the important thing to remember is that if something within a connection doesn’t feel right to you, then it is your duty to be transparent about that experience, rather than attempt to change the other to your liking.
When being radically transparent creates conflict
The final question I receive about RT often revolves around the fear of conflict. As a peacekeeper, I empathize greatly with conflict aversion, however, sometimes conflict is necessary.
I find that practicing RT evades more serious conflicts because you give opportunity to air grievances and discover conflicting desires before they have time to fester. For example, when exploring relationship dynamics with a new beloved, I much prefer to find out early if we are compatible than months down the road. By being radically transparent about feelings and desires right off the bat, it saves me time and energy addressing these things immediately.
In my experiences, having these conversations earlier on also tends to save meaningful relationships – if we can have a transparent dialogue early on and both parties feel seen, heard, and respected afterward, then we now have a stronger foundation for which to build whatever relationship we want. When I am not able to have these transparent dialogues or feel seen/heard after an attempt at RT with someone, I kindly and compassionately move on.
I would also like to say that just because RT makes a moment of conflict easier to navigate, does not mean that the conflict will not hurt. Hurt feelings are extremely valid, and it can be very disappointing to discover the end of a connection due to a transparent conversation. While the hurt can be present and valid, the “ripping of the Band-Aid” tends to be less painful (for less time) than a prolonged betrayal of oneself for the sake of conflict avoidance, and that is why I find practicing RT so valuable.
It’s important to remember that we are only in control of our actions and that the reactions of another person are not a reflection of us. People in our lives are not obligated to accept our truths as theirs, just as we are not obligated to accept others’ truths that don’t resonate with us. Conflict is a natural part of life, but I have found that navigating such spaces with Radical Transparency can ease these moments and foster deeper understanding and compassionate, human-to-human communication.
— written by Emily Lichtenberg