Let’s be real—being honest in a relationship is hard. We all know it’s the key to trust and intimacy, but that doesn’t make it easier. Whether it’s a little white lie about how much you like your partner’s new haircut or a deeper secret you’re dreading, the temptation to keep the truth hidden is something that nearly everyone wrestles with. So why does honesty feel so difficult—and what occurs when we opt for truth instead of comfort?
In most cases, our battle with honesty is really about fear. We fear causing pain to someone we love, being rejected, or facing consequences that could result. Many of us say to ourselves, “Being quiet is the nice thing to do”—but really, it’s about shielding ourselves. As one author has said, lying is most often less about protecting someone else’s feelings and more about preventing ourselves from experiencing discomfort. We conceal the truth to maintain control and to prevent the risk that comes with being seen.
But here’s the truth: honesty is not only a virtue—it’s a requirement for any good relationship. A study spearheaded by Bonnie Le at the University of Rochester indicates that honesty, even if it is painful or uncomfortable, actually results in more well-being for both individuals. In a study of over 200 couples, her team found that people who were honest—and who were seen as honest by their partners—were more motivated to grow and felt more satisfied in their relationships. Even if the truth stings a little, being open creates a path toward real connection. What matters most isn’t whether your partner fully understands your honesty—it’s that you’re trying. That effort alone has power.
The emotional effect of honesty versus dishonesty goes deep. When we’re honest, we allow others to connect with the authentic version of us—not necessarily the version we believe they’ll want to see. That level of vulnerability builds bridges. Dishonesty, however—that’s a lie or just not revealing something—builds this subtle tension that erodes trust. People may intuit when something is wrong, even if they can’t quite put their finger on it. And that sense, in the long run, can hurt more than whatever the real truth was.
There’s a spiritual dimension to honesty, too. Many spiritual and religious traditions teach that telling the truth and confessing are critical for healing—not only for the teller of the truth but also for the person at the receiving end. Admitting when we’ve messed up, especially to someone we’ve hurt, opens the door for forgiveness. And without that moment of truth, real restoration is almost impossible. While there are rare cases where confessing might do more harm than good, in general, people who are directly affected by our choices deserve to know the truth.
All that being said, however, honesty is not about blurting out the truth without a filter. Care is necessary in hard conversations. Truth-telling isn’t about being brutal or heartless—it’s being honest with compassion. When you are about to speak, ask yourself: Am I saying this to heal or to harm? Timing, tone, and empathy are important. When you combine honesty with compassion, it is much more likely to heal than to hurt.
Sure, sometimes the truth will sting. And it’s human nature to want to avoid the pain. But as most therapists remind us, it’s rarely the truth that wounds the most; most often, it’s the lie that comes with keeping it hidden. Relationships don’t usually dissolve due to the occasional bad choice. They tend to disintegrate due to consistent secrets, falsehoods, and the emotional distance created by both. When you don’t feel like you’re standing on firm ground, it’s not long before things begin to fall apart.
And it’s also worth remembering: you can’t make someone honest. If your partner refuses to open up with you after a betrayal, no amount of badgering will bring you what you’re seeking. That hurts and is frustrating—but it’s also a testament to how personal and voluntary honesty is. Honesty is born out of courage and a sense of integrity. It must be chosen, not insisted upon.