Living Truthfully in a Performative World
In the end, living truthfully isn’t about being fearless or flawless; it’s about being real.
Does any one of us tell the truth all the time? How do we feel when someone else tells us a truth we don’t want to hear? How do you react when a friend says, “Let me be honest with you”? Do you feel concerned? Nervous?
Jack Nicholson certainly got very wound up during A Few Good Men. “You can’t handle the truth” is one of cinema’s most famous lines, and helped make Tom Cruise a superstar. It’s a brutal scene, Nicholson’s jaw is clenched, his face the picture of anger. He’s employing an emotional sledgehammer to counter Cruise’s aggressive, yet principled, questioning.
Kim Fauskee, writing on Medium, says:
“We’ve become so obsessed with the fantasy of having to live our “best lives” that we left our truer selves behind. That is, if you had a truer self to leave behind. The sad fact is most people never did. You see peeling off the layers of the onion is not easy. The first two are a cinch, then the complexity begins. We humans don’t like feeling pain or the thought of being uncomfortable. We avoid it at all costs.”
The truth is not always palatable, especially when we are cross-examining ourselves. We might be scared to peel those additional onion layers, nervous about what might be revealed, or worse, finding it reveals nothing, that our depths are shallow.
For many men navigating midlife, "living truthfully" is both a quiet aspiration and a persistent fear. We want to show up honestly, both to ourselves and to others, in our relationships. But honesty, we're told, can be brutal, Jack Nicholson brutal. And who wants to be like that, especially to those we care about? The challenge, then, is to find a way of being honest that isn't harsh, open that isn't exposing, and truthful that doesn't turn us into a monster in the eyes of others.
The Age of Performed Authenticity
This means we must be compassionate, with ourselves and others. We must understand that being honest may come with a cost; we are not emotionally invulnerable, and we are not in an Aaron Sorkin-scripted courtroom, but rather in our lounge room. The people around us are not in a military court, but rather our friends and loved ones. We need to find a space where honesty and compassion can coexist,
I think locating that space is so much harder today. Take a look at the cultural backdrop, at the politics, at the society we inhabit. We live in an era where authenticity has become a brand, vulnerability has become a form of content, and "keeping it real" has become another form of performance.
Scroll through any social media platform and you'll find influencers sharing "honest" moments: the carefully lit photo of them crying, the perfectly messy behind-the-scenes glimpse of their morning routine (what is it with the plethora of ‘day-in-a-life videos Instagram keeps serving up to me?), the vulnerable post about their struggles that somehow still manages to showcase their beautiful home, attractive family, or enviable lifestyle. This is what is known as "performative honesty": the appearance of authenticity designed to foster engagement, followers, and ultimately, revenue. So nothing authentic at all. It’s a carefully crafted mirage and likely not rooted in reality.
It’s a challenge that’s been building ever since social media emerged. Back in 2018, The Guardian deplored the rise of the influencers:
“These Instagrammers are collectively sucking the joy and spontaneity out of travel photography, and for those unfortunate enough to bump into them abroad, possibly travel itself. We must pity the poor locals, who have to put up with them.”
What concerns me is that I think the majority of these influencers genuinely believe they're being authentic, not necessarily malicious or entirely fake. I am pretty sure they consider their social media output an ‘enhanced’ version of themselves, not a dishonest portrayal. I think it’s a vicious cycle.
One young woman in van life starts vlogging, and others follow her lead. However, the influencers’ version of honesty is inevitably curated, filtered, and monetised in ways that fundamentally distort what truthful living entails. It's a vulnerability with a business plan behind it. Honesty exists, but it's a form of honesty designed to convert followers into customers.
This matters enormously because an entire generation is growing up thinking this is what authenticity looks like. Young people are learning that being genuine means presenting authenticity, that vulnerability should be visually appealing, and that honest sharing should yield likes, comments, and external validation. It’s a world where authenticity is measured in likes, comments and endorsements.
I wonder how this affects our intimacy? The intimacy we see in social media is performative. These are not genuine human connections. Followers of a popular influencer consider that person a ‘friend’; they applaud the perceived vulnerability. In our digitally connected world, many young people are more familiar with performed intimacy than with genuine human connection. They know how to craft the perfect vulnerable post, but I suspect they’d struggle with having an awkward, unfiltered conversation with a friend.
History (well, the last ten or so years) is littered with the fallen remains of discredited influencers. Belle Gibson went from a lucrative career pushing nutrition, vitamin supplements, oxygen therapy and colonics as cures for cancer, to internet villainess when it was discovered she never had cancer. Italian influencer Chiara Ferragni earned millions promoting an expensive cake (yes, this is all about a cake) to her nearly 30 million Instagram followers, with the promise of significant charitable donations. It later emerged that those donations did not eventuate beyond a small one paid by the cake manufacturer before the campaign even started.
When authenticity becomes performance, it becomes increasingly difficult to know what genuine authenticity even feels like. How do you learn to be truthful with yourself when you've been trained to curate your inner life for public consumption? How do you build genuine relationships when you've learned that sharing should be strategic and vulnerability should be profitable? In other terms, do you wind up falling for your own bullshit?
Honesty has become a commercial commodity. While social media companies have improved their transparency around paid promotions and organic content, primarily in response to legal crackdowns in some countries, I’m not sure consumers are taking real notice of the warnings and ‘sponsored by’ captions. It’s tiring sorting through what is real and what is not.
We are being sold to constantly through what appears to be authentic content. We are told this is ‘truth’, but the reviews and the recommendations are sponsored. That glorious vista from the hotel balcony? Maybe that was a brand deal. It’s all designed to drive engagement - the likes, comments, and shares - to propagate an advertisement as widely as possible.
Of course, these types of paid endorsements are not a new phenomenon. Product placement has been prevalent in movies and television for decades. Carefully placed products in the media you consume can be extremely effective. It seems that social media influencers promoting products are simply another form of interaction.
It’s fatiguing to discern genuine authenticity from its performative cousin. We must distinguish between consistently performed honesty and genuine truthfulness, both in what we consume and what we create.
As we explore what living truthfully actually means, it's worth keeping this cultural context in mind. The path toward authentic living requires us to resist the pull of performative authenticity and instead commit to the slower, quieter work of being real with ourselves and the people who matter most to us.
Of course, truth can be used as a weapon, sometimes in a brutal manner. There is a world of difference between telling a friend, "I'm worried about you," and announcing, "You're ruining your life." The first comes from a place of care; the second, of judgement. Nobody has carte blanche to be rude, cutting, or endlessly self-justifying. The notion of "just telling it like it is" is often used to excuse insensitivity.
True honesty is not about chucking unfiltered hand grenades; instead, it’s fostering a deep collaborative dialogue where both sides are empowered to show up in all their individual messiness. Simply throwing ‘truth bombs’ is not the path to clear and kind communication. Honesty should always serve the connection, not superiority.
The Journey Inward: Finding Your Truth
For men like me, who were not raised in an environment where emotional self-reflection was encouraged - or even discussed - seeking and understanding our own truth is uncharted waters. How can we know our truth unless we realise that we have an internal life, a ‘self life’, that should be examined, considered, and understood? This self-awareness is particularly challenging when you lack the necessary tools. My journey was conducted in collaboration with professional therapists over an extended period.
However, if you take the first steps, you begin to learn how to tune in to your internal dialogue and emotions. It’s a crucial ingredient to build honest relationships with yourself first, and then with others in your life.
How many of us in mid-life live on autopilot? As the philosopher Alain de Botton puts it: "Anyone who isn't embarrassed of who they were last year probably isn't learning enough." Self-awareness doesn't mean self-obsession. It means tuning in enough to recognise when you're tired, when you're lonely, when you're holding back. It's admitting to yourself, on a quiet Thursday night, that maybe you do miss your old mates, or that work isn't as fulfilling as you claim.
Building Bridges Through Honest Conversation
I have a procrastination gene. At least you’d be forgiven for thinking so when inspecting the majority of my life. I have a track record of avoiding difficult tasks and moments. It’s not necessarily because the task is overly difficult or complex; in fact, quite often the opposite. An email that I should have replied to weeks ago, but one that I am concerned about the recipient's reaction to. I know I should bite the bullet. But I prevaricate and shuffle it down my inbox. I will finally respond, with an ‘I’m sorry this slipped past me’, and of course, feel the weight lifted.
If there's an Olympic sport for avoiding difficult conversations, many of us would be medal contenders. We often find avoidance easier, especially when we are uncertain about the reaction from the other party, whether it's a colleague, a parent, or a friend.
Today, I am deliberate, for the most part, about ensuring I deal truthfully with what is in front of me. Bringing up hard topics doesn't have to mean confrontation. It might simply mean saying, "I need to talk about something that's bothering me". It seems innocuous, but that simple sentence is a powerful bridge to build in a conversation rooted in honesty.
We must also acknowledge that navigating honest conversations also means listening, not just hearing, as I wrote back in April:
“Hearing is passive. Listening is not. It demands focus and engagement. You must understand what is being said—and sometimes read between the lines for what is unspoken.”
By having honest conversations, we build trust, one small moment at a time. Consistency beats grand gestures every time.
When we are consistent - and I absolutely don’t mean perfect - in our truthfulness, others know where they stand with us. Trust doesn't require brutal honesty, nor does it demand constant confession. It means showing up, time after time, in a way that others can rely on. Consistency is super important. This is not about great grand gestures, but rather small, regular acts of honesty - both to yourself and others - that build up a reservoir over time.
This matters for friendship as much as it does for romantic or family relationships. Knowing someone will give you a straight answer, and that they'll do so with kindness, is one of the greatest comforts we can offer each other.
Honesty can be manifested with humour and tact. We must always balance honesty with compassion; we are communicating with a human, not yelling at the microwave. We must ask ourselves, is what I am about to say true? Am I being kind in my delivery? Is this the right moment? Indeed, the latter is critical; timing is everything. So we are seeking compassionate honesty. We carefully consider what we are going to say and save the tough conversations for the moment when both of us can handle them. And maybe soften the blow with humour, delivering truth gently and with tact.
Living truthfully isn't just about the moral high ground; it's about well-being. The Harvard Study of Adult Development, which has tracked men's lives for over 80 years, found that the quality of our relationships is the single biggest predictor of happiness and health in later life.
"Close relationships, more than money or fame, are what keep people happy throughout their lives, the study revealed. Those ties protect people from life’s discontents, help to delay mental and physical decline, and are better predictors of long and happy lives than social class, IQ, or even genes. “
Truthfulness must be the bedrock of relationships. You can't build lasting connections on half-truths, silence, or pretending to be someone you're not. It might feel safer to avoid the difficult conversations, as I did for so many years. But in the long term, it is a rot that expands, affecting your own mental health, creating an isolation between you and the rest of the world. Sociologist Brené Brown in her book Braving the Wilderness: The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone sums it up:
“You can choose courage or you can choose comfort, but you cannot have both. Not at the same time.”
I think I must also point out the obvious: it’s also true that you don’t have all the answers. So sometimes the best truth is to shut up and admit that you don’t know, rather than extemporising for the sake of avoiding silence. You don’t need to have everything figured out; I suspect that if you meet someone who suggests they have, they most likely don't. Confessing ignorance is also truthful.
I often say I am more content in my life today than I can ever remember. Living truthfully has underpinned this; my connections with my friends and the people in my life are stronger and deeper. I no longer ascribe to the male stereotype of ‘toughing it out’, I now know this doesn’t work. It might be a short-term panacea, but it leaves an uncertain future. I now know that expressing vulnerability and sharing that with people close to me has improved my mental health and developed a deeper resilience.
Most importantly, I understand that living my truth means not living alone. In fact, the more honest we are with ourselves, with each other, the greater our chances of feeling connected and understood. Building a connection on a bed of truth lifts us up; we feel seen and heard.
When Others Can't Meet You in Truth
Whilst living truthfully should be the aspiration for us all, there remains a more difficult reality: some people are either not receptive to truth or are inappropriate recipients of our truth. We will all encounter people who simply cannot or will not reciprocate. This isn't about occasional dishonesty (everyone lies sometimes). This is about individuals whose relationship with truth is fundamentally compromised: narcissists who never admit fault, manipulators who weaponise your vulnerability, or people so invested in their own narrative that they cannot acknowledge reality when it conflicts with their self-image.
As men, we are raised to be ‘straightshooting’, so that our exchanges with others will be equal. Unfortunately, this is not always the case. We will, on occasion, be met with gaslighting, blame-shifting, or outright denial, which can be disheartening on our authentic living journey.
Narcissists have what can only be described as an allergic reaction to accountability. Present them with clear evidence of their impact on others, and they'll reflexively deflect, deny, or attack. They've built their entire identity on being right, being special, and being the victim of everyone else's unreasonableness. Your honesty threatens this carefully constructed narrative. Narcissists see authenticity as a weakness to be exploited. They will often turn your truth against you and even make you question your own reality.
Others will encourage you to be open because they believe they can use your vulnerability; it gives them power. They see that they can turn your truth against you for their own gain. They might seem like they are connecting deeply, but really, they are seeking to control you.
Ultimately, some individuals simply can’t handle the truth. I’m cautious about ascribing malicious intent in all these circumstances. Their personal history might be informed by trauma, betrayal, or abuse. This might result in a fragility that makes them feel threatened. Great care is needed to avoid triggering them, but small, clear and honest communication exchanges can create baby steps towards understanding on both sides.
Given the above traits, we need to develop a radar and ensure we have a reservoir of empathy that can assess if someone will genuinely reciprocate our honesty.
It can be hard, but living truthfully sometimes means acknowledging that certain relationships, even with people really close to us, such as family members, old friends, or romantic partners, cannot sustain an authentic connection. This realisation can be devastating. However, just because this is the case doesn’t mean your own authenticity is devalued. We shouldn’t be living truthfully because of others; we must start with ourselves. If a connection is meant to be genuine and authentic, then it will be. You cannot fix truth-resistant people; that’s not your job. It’s up to them. So focus on relationships with people who share your commitment to living truthfully. Maybe this will result in fewer relationships, but I’ll choose quality over quantity any day.
Practical Strategies for Living Truthfully
Living truthfully becomes easier with concrete practices. Here are ten strategies you can implement immediately:
1. Practice daily self-reflection. Set aside 10 minutes each day to check in with yourself. Ask: What am I feeling? What do I need? What am I avoiding?
2. Listen without planning your response. When someone shares something important, resist the urge to formulate your reply. Focus entirely on understanding their perspective first.
3. Use "I" statements in difficult conversations. Instead of "You always..." try "I feel..." or "I need..." This centres the conversation in your experience rather than assigning blame.
4. Set boundaries around what you share. Being truthful doesn't mean saying yes to everything. It's okay to say no, ask for space, or decline to answer personal questions.
5. Apologise when your honesty causes unintended harm. If your truth-telling hurts someone, take responsibility and acknowledge the impact. Make amends where possible.
6. Apply the three-question test. Before sharing something difficult, ask: Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind? You need at least two out of three.
7. Take a moment to calm yourself before responding when emotions are high. When you're angry, hurt, or defensive, pause to reflect. Let the intensity settle before speaking your truth.
8. Own your mistakes without justification. When you're wrong, admit it clearly and completely. Resist the urge to explain, defend, or minimise your error.
9. Create space for "I don't know." Admitting uncertainty can be profoundly honest. You don't have to have answers to everything to live authentically.
10. Choose vulnerability over performance. Share your real struggles and joys, not the curated versions designed to impress others. Authenticity serves connection, not image management.
Living truthfully is not a one-time decision, but a lifelong practice. There will be missteps, awkward moments, and times you wish you'd kept quiet. But over time, the reward is a life that feels more authentic, relationships that feel more nourishing, and a sense of belonging that isn't dependent on masks or bravado. You’ll avoid those who are incapable of reciprocity and connect deeply with those who can. Friendships will be stronger and more genuine. Romantic relationships will be transformed, as communication and honesty are the bedrock to creating remarkable intimacy; however, your relationships are structured, whether monogamous, non-monogamous, same-sex, mixed-gender or anything in between. The rewards of a truthful life are numerous and joyful.
In the end, living truthfully isn’t about being fearless or flawless; it’s about being real. It’s the quiet, daily commitment to show up as we are, not as we’re expected to be. In a world that often rewards performance over presence, choosing honesty can feel like a radical act when it runs counter to your cultural context and upbringing.
But it’s also where the most meaningful parts of life begin. When we speak with compassion, listen with intention, and connect without needing applause, we reclaim something essential: the freedom to be our true selves. That’s the kind of truth we can handle, and the type that can change everything.