I think I’ve written at least a half a dozen posts on lying. I’m pleased to say that I don’t lie much anymore, with the exception of those lies that save friendships – the ever trite “no, you don’t look a manatee in that skirt” – and those I cough up with virtually no warning, the on-the-spot fibs because my anxiety is at its height. “I need to go, [neighbor/mail man/male erotic dancer], because I’m expected at my mother’s tea party and I am responsible for the cucumber sandwiches.” I used to tell much bigger lies, the ones that left me caught in a sticky web of insecurity and fear of employing inconsistent details, ones that left other people hurting and doubting themselves and their importance to me and the world. I detest those kinds of lies. Even the ones we think don’t hurt. It’s been a long time since I used them, however unintentionally, and I’m proud of making that change. An interesting point of pride, of course, given that at our cores, ones we would argue are loving and good, we shouldn’t be using lies to our benefit anyway.
I read a lot online about bloggers taking pledges. For example, they pledge to write with integrity, to use their words in a respectful way, to represent themselves honestly and in a manner that benefits the greater community. They pledge to lose weight, together or individually, by doing the Shred and posting their weigh-ins on Twitter and documenting runs in exercise logs. Bloggers pledge to write novels in a single month, to be better parents, to check off the bullets of their life lists in (sponsored) individual glory. (With lots of pictures and links.) But what if you decided not to lie, pledged to yourself you wouldn’t, under any circumstances, for a week, a month, maybe six? Do you think you could do it?
We can start with the lies we tell to others. Those we tell to ourselves are a whole different conversation.
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I couldn’t do it.
Just me.
I’m a fan of little white lies to keep everyone happy. Except my true friends. If her ass is hanging out of a pair of daisy dukes she’s gonna hear about it.
ALL lies? Or just omissions? Because I realized after thinking about this, that I lie a lot — not big lies about myself to others, but an excuse to not go somewhere here, a vague “I have plans” here, to avoid the truth of saying, “I just don’t feel like it, and frankly, I don’t like the way you ‘borrow’ my kid’s toys all the time.” (I mean, uhh, for example.)
And yes, what about omission? Things happen with my husband – with his life, that impact me – all the time, but I don’t talk about them because his is not my story to tell. I can’t really be honest about his situation(s), because it’s not my situation, and I don’t say things in a way that are fair to him and so I just let things lie there. And stating every fact could be harmful for him professionally. So, I let omissions sit there, on purpose.
When is a lie — or an omission — justifiable?
I think the best I can do right now is be aware of the lies and look for ways to be more honest without being hurtful. I.e., decide if I really care about the relationships that are causing me to lie (the toy-taking, for example), and if it’s time to either let them go or be honest enough to solve the problem without having to avoid it.
As for being totally honest with myself, oh man, I work on that every day. And it sucks, doesn’t it?
Such a dicey proposition, isn’t it? I think I understand the essence of the pledge, though, and we can all note that any pledge is made by a person who has the inherent ability to make judgment calls. I think in the 12-Step regimen there’s a step that urges one to make amends “except when doing so would harm someone.” That’s a slippery slope itself, of course, because it’s hard to tease out what would or wouldn’t be self-serving.
Lies to ourselves, of course, are far stickier and devilishly easy to pull off. But that, as you say, is another matter.
As always, such a pleasure to read you. And have fun with those cucumber sandwiches tonight!
Re: the lies to ourselves, I’ve been thinking a bit about this, too. Sometimes lies to ourselves are useful. We tell ourselves we’re not stressed about a situation, and so we start to believe it — this can be helpful at times when stress or worry only adds to a negative situation. We tell ourselves we can do it, that we’re good enough, that it will all work out, even though we don’t really believe it — the lie then becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, in a good way.
Argh, Kris! You got me all THINKY this morning! Shit, I love you. (Not a lie!)
I had a conversation this morning on the phone with someone who was trying to persuade me, with a hint of condescension, that I should rethink my job search strategy. As I listened to myself respond to his insinuations, I heard myself speaking phrases and sentences that were appropriate and yet completely inappropriate because they betrayed the principles I told myself I’d stick to. Lying, in this sense, was so much easier than trying to break this man down and make him understand where I’m coming from.
I could stand to resist telling such lies simply because it’s convenient.
I won’t lie to you, but sorry, I’m going to continue lying to myself that I am NOT as big as a whale and that I DO look like those pregnant people in magazines (it’s not true, but I’m going to keep telling myself that)
I’m pretty candid, but no, I wouldn’t give up the little white lies. I think I could only do it if I were prepared to lose my job.
I know I couldn’t do it. Too many people would be disappointed to learn I am not really a ship captain.
Modern business simply couldn’t survive without a constant stream of white lies, simply due to its nature. I probably fib anywhere nigh on a dozen or more times a day, mostly in the form of redirection for requests or an, “I’m working on it,” when it’s really been back-burnered. That’s all due to the nature of things and I know I’m being told the exact same thing from the other side. (Your request isn’t REALLY critical, it’s just that you can’t be bothered to wait.)
I’m also a big fan of telling white lies to convey my true feelings when I really don’t immediately feel like it. For instance — wifey asks me if I’d be so kind as to go upstairs and grab her slippers. At that very moment, I may not feel like it; I may be tired, feeling bothered, wanting to continue laying on the couch and attempting to mind-meld with the cushion. But because I love her and I’m happy to sacrifice my happiness for her, I say I’d be happy to do it and I go do it.
A lie? Sure. If I was truthful, I’d groan and moan and bitch about it, but the truth is, I’d regret it. A little lie gets me by until I feel not quite so much like a prick.
I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to go a day without telling a lie to someone. (Well, maybe if I weren’t exposed to anyone I could. I’m darn honest with myself. Thus the insomnia and high anxiety.)
Words are so powerful. As writers, we use them for good or for evil, unintentionally, both ways, every day.
I am committed to bringing Sunlight in to the world, one life at a time. Sunlight is. It has no ability to lie. If we focus on measuring our words, our responses, our outreach into a laser of truth- we risk cutting and burning everything we touch with an arc-welder’s torch of “right-ness”. If we obfuscate, prevaricate and blur the lines between the sacred and the profane we lose our humanity and our impact and a piece of soul.
If, perchance, we find a middle way and softly radiate a glow that starts with accepting what and who we are, we can build bridges with our words. Meaningful interaction, reinforcement, encouragement and discovery are powerful words.
Sunlight does not lie, and neither do I.
Wow. Like you were transcribing my mind.
It continues to amaze me that just when I think I’m completely alone in what I think someone else manages to express my exact thoughts.
Do you know how to slenderize in few months and maintain you weight ever since? But I know, how to loose weight!
I couldn’t make it 5 minutes, because I have to be nice to some of the people I work with and it’s TORTURE, but it would be worse if I wasn’t lying through my teeth. I need my job.
I’m going to try this, whole-heartedly, because I’m so guilty of not keeping my word. It comes from not wanting to disappoint or not being accepted but that doesn’t matter. I just need to quit.
Also, this: “no, you don’t look a manatee in that skirt” is the funniest thing I’ve read all day.
I find it impossible to lie which is probably why I find myself in trouble sometimes. People sometimes PREFER the lie. I just can’t be bothered to keep it all straight, you know? I have too much to do. I might try to soften the truth sometimes but even then, I suck at it. I think at most I avoid people that I know I have things to say to when I don’t think they are ready to hear it. But it never lasts long.
MK, I really could have used your honesty when I was going to prom.
Jonniker, I have a friend who will not lie. Will not. When she doesn’t feel like hanging out with someone, she’ll say that. I cringe in the background, of course, but for some odd reason people appreciate this honesty. She’ll just make a plan for another night with them. I’ve tried this only a couple of times, and it was incredibly fucking liberating. Like take your bra off and throw it out the damn window liberating. And then I stopped doing it. Old dog and all that.
There are also degrees of omission, yes? I’m looking at one of the cats right now (BECAUSE THAT’S ALL I DO) and am thinking she’s pretty. I’m not going to say it; there’s no reason to. It’s technically an omission, but none of us would call it a lie, would we? Sleeping with her tomcat across the street and keeping it hush falls at the other end of that spectrum.
KM, as with many things, I think we see eye to eye on this one. And I appreciate your comment. The question still stands, of course: could you do it?
Jonniker2, I’m really caught on this comment, IF I’M HONEST. I struggle to think of a time when lie I’ve told myself was helpful. If I tell myself I’m not nervous, my mind and sweaty palms call bullshit. If I tell myself he wants to have babies with me even though he doesn’t call, I am setting myself up for a whole world of hurt. I need to keep thinking on this one. Also? I love you too. :)
Kate, I understand what you’re saying. This is what I run into. It’s easier to tell a neighbor that I have dinner plans and that’s why I have to run rather than tell him I need to go (for one reason or another). I’ve tried being honest in these situations — not the I FIND THIS CONVERSATION MIND NUMBING honest but I’M SORRY BOB, BUT I HAVE TO GO. NO REALLY. — and it was also remove the bra liberating. I can’t tell you how adult, how in control I felt. And then I went back to my old ways. Le sigh.
Melina — I’m sure you aren’t, silly! Interested to know, does your mind call bullshit on that kind of stuff?
Lisa, I didn’t really think about work when writing this, because my anxiety is social, but this is an excellent point. Do you think you could be truthful but tactful? Hrm.
Libby, so help me Jebus if you don’t make fish sticks . . .
NP, I’m not entirely convinced about the work thing. I’m thinking again about being truthful but tactful. And because I’m apparently SO EFFING WISE, I’m going to try it and report back. And then come live with you if I get fired.
Am giggling at your other comment. If someone asks me if I’d mind picking them up from the airport at 11 pm, I generally say Yes, but I love you, so of course I’ll be there! WIN-WIN. I don’t wear slippers. ;)
Patois, in my mind, they’re all related. I can’t decide if my anxiety would be lessened if I stopped fibbing entirely.
Titanium, the term meaningful interaction really hits home with me. When I lie, I feel like I’m chipping away at my connection with that person, whether it’s a positive or negative. It’s somehow tainted. Immediately. I don’t take that lightly, either. Also, send us some sunshine? :)
Smurf, how lovely. Never alone. That’s part of what makes it beautiful to be human.
Liza, I don’t know, but am saddened to see this is what you’re doing post-Friends.
FoundInIdaho, what about the truth with tact thing? Do you think it’s BS?
Jennie, if you really did try this, I’d love to hear how you did/are doing. Please come back and tell me — you and your lovely praising comments are ALWAYS welcome here. (Truth. ;)
Sizzle, FASCINATING. So is it a gift or a curse? And do people react to you the way they do to my truthful friend; it may sting for the moment but they respect it in the end? TELL US.
Thanks all. Love your thinking. I have to go tell the cats they look pretty now.
This is a life change I mad at age 22 after losing my boyfriend & all of my friends to a web of lies of my own telling. My fault – & everyone was gone. It’d been a long time coming, & in retrospect, I can’t believe they stuck around as long as they did. I might lie to myself – but I don’t lie to others anymore. Even lies of omission – they all feel like lies to me. People think I have a big mouth, can’t keep secrets – but it’s a choice I make, not to stay quiet about things that could hurt others.
Maybe sometimes I fall prey to those “I need to get out of this situation” lies, too, & the friend-saving “Your hair looks great,” but the big ones? Even the medium-sized ones? I’m with you. I don’t go there anymore. It’s not worth. It never was, & I never want to find out the hard way again.
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