I’m not going to lie to you… I’m a liar. Probably not a pathological liar, though. Maybe.
Sometimes I say little white lies like I’m fine when I’m not or saying you’re not annoying me when you are. Sometimes they’re big lies like how I got that dent in my car.
Some lies I don’t even realize I’m saying one until it’s too late. Some lies I convince myself are truth.
I even lie to myself that I’m not a liar. Everyone lies, right?
Wrong… Not everyone feels inclined to lie about everything. But I do. Even when it doesn’t actually benefit me any more or less.
According to studies, this is a common issue for people who lived in a broken home. But wait! My home wasn’t broken. I had two parents, and there was never a threat of divorce looming over us. We never had a split, because it never would happen. We weren’t broken.
Only broken homes aren’t just about broken marriages, it includes dysfunctional and/or abusive families.
The greatest lie I told myself was that my home wasn’t broken. It took me years to accept it as truth. Dad never laid a hand on me. In fact, he avoided touching altogether. Instead he threw words like worthless or stupid at me when the drink took him. He never beat my mother, but he did throw dishes against the wall to get his point across. We weren’t broken, though. Only slightly scratched. Nothing a bit of calamine lotion wouldn’t help fix.
What I don’t understand are the lies that just fall out of my mouth. I don’t even have to think about them anymore. My lies have never hurt anyone but myself. Once told, though, I’ve already convinced myself of their validity. Or I convince myself why it was correct, enhancing the lie if it ever comes up again.
Most lies to be convincing have to have an ounce of truth in them. Like how I met Dimeback Darrell at my old job in Dallas. He frequented the restaurant I worked at. Only I worked in the cash and security office and I saw him through the security cameras. I went downstairs to see him closer, but I never approached him. I was too scared. But I met Dimeback Darrell less than a year before he died. Only he never met me…
Some lies are to protect me or prevent an awkward conversation from starting. I lied at my first job interview after I became an Australian permanent resident. The truth that I had met my partner over a video game may not have made me the best job applicant. It shows me as impulsive. Instead, I just told a fib that he was stationed in Dallas for a while and we met then. A significant lie, but not one that was unbelievable, either. In fact, the truth was far stranger than fiction.
So now that I have revealed something very personal about myself, I have another confession to make.
This was me five years ago. It took me years to fix this habit. I didn’t even realize it was a problem until I moved to Australia. Then when I started to pick up on it, I noted how the lie came about. Why did I really need to say it?
Some lies are still okay. You really do look nice in that dress. You aren’t annoying me. I am fine.
But my life isn’t ruled by a constant lie anymore. And that is so liberating.