A truth about me.
People lie. They tell
small lies. They tell big lies. They omit.
Package it any way you like, it’s still a lie. Do I lie? Yes. I do.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but yes I do, though I can say I don’t remember
the last time I did.
About two years or so ago, it was pretty ridiculous how much
I lied. Sometimes I’d lie because I
think it’s just better to spare someone’s feelings…as though I’m helping them
in some regard because, clearly, I can handle it, but they can’t (insert
sarcasm). Other times I’d lie to just shut someone the fuck up. Even worse, I’d
lie to get out of plans…because, well, the book/person I was talking to at that
moment/food I was eating/glass of wine/piece of lint on the wall/etc was more
interesting. Mostly, I was just afraid
of saying “No” to people.
With that said, it was brought to my attention about around
that time by a wonderful friend who noticed I was “sick” or “tired” a lot. She called me out on my bullshit and I was
ashamed. Very, very ashamed. It seems, I’d gotten so used to wanting to
get out of things to make it easier on me, I forgot I was actually LYING to
those I love the most.
You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this…
Do I have some terrible truth to share?
Am I STILL lying?
No to both. These
days, I really cannot remember the last time I lied, which is pretty damn
amazing. With that said, after reading
this I’m fairly certain you’ll have no reason to believe me, but, then again,
why would I share this to begin with?
Writing this came to mind because we recently served legal documents
on someone who refused to acknowledge his own existence even though he was
sitting at a desk with his name on it, with his own business cards sticking out
of his pocket which showed his name. Once
he was caught (an employee walked into his office and called him by name), he
too was mortified. Once I heard about
it, I laughed and laughed. Then, I realized I knew exactly what he felt like. I
WAS him. When it was brought to my attention, I remember asking other people I
knew. They ALL knew I was lying. I was mortified. Yes, partly because I was caught. Partly because I’m apparently a terrible
liar, but mostly why lie?
Why? Self-preservation
at it’s worst. Control…at it’s worst. Fear…at it’s worst.
I spoke with my therapist and she said “It seems you’re very
afraid of change.”, in her very gentle, motherly way and I felt very pacified…for
a while. However, while that is true (I tend to be mortified of change), the
truth was I was being a bitch and a coward. So, I changed (it wasn’t easy). I established a no-lie rule with myself. I
know, how lame, but I needed rules. I read books on proper communication (to
those who know me well, understand it’s a work in progress ;) ) If I
didn’t feel like doing something, I’d just say “No, thank you”. If I felt someone’s feelings needed to be
spared, I’d word things more gently, not lie. If I wanted someone to shut the
fuck up, I’d tell them to do so (politely..sometimes, not so politely).
It forced me to communicate my feelings, which I realized I
was terrible at. It forced me to be a
better friend, something I’d always assumed I was amazing at. To quote Tina Fey, I WAS one of those people
who came across as a smarmy “Let me be
AMAAAZING at you” kind of person. Ugh. It FORCED me to communicate with those I
love. Honesty…it’s odd being
honest. I felt so selfish being honest
about my feelings on anything. Sometimes
I have to reel it in because my honesty can be rather brutal at times (see
above selfishness info…also a work in progress).
All in all, I’m happier.
I’m a better friend. Now, if I
can only work on my lack of tact…
If you’re reading this and seriously re-thinking our
friendship, then, well… “These are not the droids you are looking for…”
Here’s a picture of an adorable puppy to make me look more “human”.
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