I hate admitting my faults. There are a few reasons for that—among them being my constantly thinking about them anyway, not wanting to confirm my own failures, and my ego. Talking about my mistakes and shortcomings is an almost painful process. Yet, I've been finding more and more, that doing so is the only way I can get rid of those sore spots in the first place.

I've learned a lot since starting this most recent round of therapy. One of the things my therapist has been helping me to see is the importance of recognizing my faults, problems, and unpleasant situations.

Those who know me might realize how difficult this is. I don't stay at recognizing problems for very long before trying to move forward, and my analytical side needs a reason for everything. Put the two together and I know there is something wrong with the way I am thinking, and I want to get past it right away. If I perceive a certain feeling or thought as petty, I can't understand why I still hold it, but can't help but to continue nonetheless.

Because of this, I generally don't like to verbalize how I feel or what I think. I know there are issues and I am afraid that if I communicate what I truly feel, I will be judged the way I judge myself.

This is not very helpful in the end. I still feel the way I did previously—still am unsure if people will accept me if I vocalize my feelings, still know something isn't right, and still don't know what to do about it.

This previous week, my therapist prompted me to try something new. Amidst feelings that I thought were petty, she asked bluntly, "Does it feel demanding?"

The situation I was dealing with was a simple one that took less than ten minutes out of my day, if even that. Nonetheless, I admitted that it felt that way and it was driving me up the wall.

We discussed ways to address those feelings and then cope with them. I was surprised to find that later that day, I was faced with one of the situations that seemed so demanding, but it no longer frustrated me the way it did previously. I still felt some mild irritation, but it wasn't the same kind that had been building up before.

I hadn't wanted to address my problem because I recognized that it was a "me issue." Ultimately, however, the only way to solve the me issue was to confess that I had one.

So often people think and act in such a way that it seems like the only action appropriate for when there is a problem is to immediately get rid of it, with attempts that lead to suppressing the issue over and over again. In the end, this is destructive—which I can say from personal experience.

Perhaps there is another way.

Rather than hating an issue and wishing merely that it was gone, perhaps we can simply confess that we have an issue. Instead of trying to move to its removal, maybe we can allow ourselves to come to terms with the fact that there is a problem. Instead of suppressing our issues, perhaps we can confess them. Before we hide from judgment, me we can be raw with others. Rather than hiding our sins, we can reveal them in the light.

Maybe in confession we will actually find life and freedom.