Little White Lies was the Fun Monday’s topic this week. (I’ll check the host’s blog address a little later and post it) I didn’t sign up because at the time I couldn’t think of anything compelling to write.
I don’t often lie…anymore. Oh I used to be a very good liar unfortunately. To my parents…sorry mom and dad! As a teen, I lied to them about where I was going or who I was with, and many times to get out of trouble. I’m hoping that I won’t get too much pay back when my children come of age. I lied to friends. Usually to make myself look better. To teachers. About homework or why I missed a class. But mostly I lied to myself.
Now I don’t.
I can’t get anywhere or learn anything unless I quit living in a place of denial. Even it’s about the most painful parts of myself. I strive for truth. Why do I behave a certain way? Why did I react that way? Why am I jealous of that person? What is going on with me when I get into an argument with my husband?
Truth is a difficult space to live in because it means I can’t be concerned with whether or not I’m justified in my feelings. What do I gain by proving someone wrong? A feeling of superiority or self-satisfaction?
The truth is that half the time I live my life from the perspective of a scared seven year old girl, and the other half of the time from a thirty-three year old woman who is trying to find her way in life.
The truth is that I have a lot of anger that I don’t express because I never want to hurt any one’s feelings or cause a big argument. The anger is sitting there bottled up and that is what sneaks out in the disguise of bad moods when I’m feeling a loss of control.