Truth be told,
no one is telling the truth.

About
their level of anxiety,
the stability of their marriage,

how parenting is going for them,

how things are with their job,

how happy they are,

or how they are surviving

the racial unrest,

the political chaos,

the social distancing and awkwardness

and the unrelenting pandemic.

No one is so unfiltered with you that they are wholly upfront about

how their nerves are ebbing and flowing and how they are unclear on how to ride the waves,

how between e-learning and a busier-than-ever-but-thank-God-I've-got-a-job work schedule, two partners can't find time for each other,

how it's so effing, almost debilitatingly nerve-racking to send kids to school,

how it's such a crazy dynamic to feel glad and grateful to have your kids home with you 24/7, but also to be overwhelmed by it and a bit "over it,"

how work has become never more necessary, but also never more of a burden,

how they smile, so they don't cry,

how they smile to make sure their kids continue to,

and just how unnerved they feel on the day-to-day given the uncertain
-- on so many freakin' levels --

climate we are living in.

Truth be told,
I don't know what I'm doing.

And, truth be told,
neither do you.

And neither does

he

or her

or they.

None of us.

'Cause, truth be told,

we're all just doing the damn best we can with what we've got going on,

and with what the world has going on,

and that,

my friend,

is the most real thing I've said in a while.