A Lesson Before Lying

-
{I thought this was one of the blogs that got deleted about a month ago. Thankfully tonight I found it in my Hotmail "sent" messages. It wasn't lost! But is more than a month old}


Recent events have dredged up some old memories and reminded me of a skill set that I possess. It's a skill I truly hope that I never have to use again.

I'm good at liars. Not lying. Liars. I'm like a divining rod. Seriously.

'Trust until you can't.' I've always lived by those words. And I've gotten burned time after time. I've gotten lies for the sake of lying and lies when the truth would have been just as easy. I've asked for the truth and been told a lie.

I'm not talking about 'Do you like my new shoes?' or 'How does my hair look?' Those little white lies don't mean a damn thing. Tell me whatever you want. No, I'm talking about big questions, like 'Where were you this weekend?' or 'Why didn't you tell me you moved?' or 'Did you sleep with her?' These are questions with answers that matter. These are tough questions requiring tough answers, answers that require integrity, honesty, and courage.

Over the years, I've learned that the word is full of cowards. I've learned that the truth is hard and lies are easy for many people. I've learned that most liars think that they are good liars.

Until they get caught.

How do they get caught? I've never snooped, never spied, never done anything except ask, listen, and observe. And yet, somehow I figure it out.

The key? Stories that change. I'm going to give the liars out there one piece of advice - no matter how ridiculous your first story, the one you thought up totally on the fly amid mind-numbing panic, never, ever, ever change it. Want to know why?

The truth never changes.

How do I ferret out a liar? I ask them to tell the story again. And maybe again. And maybe even again. If the story stays reasonably consistent, I assume it's the truth, no matter how outlandish it sounds. If the story changes and details don't jive with previous versions, I assume it's all lies. Once we arrive here, I'm usually certain that I'm right and past the point of caring. I don't like liars.

The truth can be a scary idea. Lost friendships and fractured relationships come from the truth. In reality, it's not the truth that ruins everything. Sure, the action that precedes it is a problem, but it's the lies that are told to hide it that do the most damage.

The truth shall set you free. And maybe, just maybe, save the day. Because when all is said and done, the truth requires integrity and courage. People make mistakes, do the wrong thing, make bad choices. To err is human. Imperfection is human. Coming clean and telling the truth is about ownership. 'I did this and I'm ready to take responsibility and face the consequences'. That, my friends, is the mark of raw, unadulterated character. Even though the truth may hurt, you have to respect the honesty behind it.

Liars out there may think that they are saving someone from hurt by lying. They're not I'm going to leave y'all with one last lesson -

Absolutely nothing hurts worse than a lie.

Nothing.

Period.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My Biggest Fan

-
It comes for all of us. If we're lucky. Right now, I'm not sure I feel lucky, but I know in the days, weeks, months, and years to come, I will come to realize that I am. Or I was. My parents are elderly, eighty-four and ninety-two. From where I'm sitting at the moment - my mother's hospital room - it's doubtful that my mom will reach tomorrow, much less eighty-five, So here I sit. And write...while  my biggest fan lays a few feet away snoring like a freight train. Her snores mean she's still alive so rather than drowning them out with music, I listen, Intently. Because each one could be her last. It's the drugs - her pain was pretty severe - making her sleep so soundly. These same drugs, the ones that keep the pain at bay, may also hasten her death. Her decision. She's been kicking cancer's a** for the past seven years. My mom's no sissy; she can endure. But this isn't the cancer, the known quantity. This is an aneurysm, a ticking time bomb
Read more

Be That Person

-
 A friend texted me last night. Her almost twelve year old son is starting middle school today and she was more than a little stressed. I guess it's somewhat normal for parents to be nervous about such milestones in their children's lives. I mean sixth grade means a bigger school, perhaps switching classrooms, more complex homework assignments, etc, etc. I'm sure there's also some wistfulness about the whole thing. The "My baby's growing up" kinda thing. My friend's concerns last night (and again this morning) were far larger. You see, her son is different. He always has been. Not only is he on "the spectrum," he also has Tourettte's. And he's on the fringes of non-binary. Plus, he lives on the border of Texas and Arkansas in a place that is far from open-minded and falls just below marginally accepting. This is the land of conservative politics (ie Trump), gun rights, big religion, and the concomitant "family values" that i
Read more

A Little Unsteady

-
"Hold onto me...cuz I'm a little unsteady..." It's the first song that popped up on Pandora tonight. Kismet? Serendipity? I don't know. I had another opening line all picked out (and I'm sure I'll get to it in a bit), but sometimes...sometimes the Universe has other plans. Other ideas. Other directions. And often it's right. Absolutely, perfect right. Like tonight...today...all of it... I was unsteady. I am unsteady. For the first time nearly five years. Five years . This, of course, isn't a lying, narcissistic girlfriend or a bad break up of any kind. And for that I am thankful (Not that I couldn't use a nifty stint on the Break Up Diet). In many ways, it's something worse. Much, much worse. I'm being pulled in two directions, veritably (though not literally...physically speaking anyway) torn in two. It's not news that I'm moving to Las Vegas next month. In fact, I leave one month from today with the first load of my life.
Read more