[ad_1]
I I have never considered myself a liar. I have always seen myself as an honest person. The only time I would deviate from the truth was to protect someone’s feelings. But it wasn’t really a lieI would say to myself, it was an act of kindness!
And then I had a therapy session where I realized that this was all actually people-pleasing behavior, and it turned out that I was a prolific liar. Not only that, but according to my therapist, by constantly hiding my true feelings to protect those I loved, I was preventing them from getting to know their true selves and creating true intimacy.
I slowly realized that every time I pretended to love something my partner was doing, or lied about how much fun it would be to go to a friend’s birthday party, or pushed myself to do another hen do, I was lying. I prioritized everyone else before myself and that meant I was like that inside raging with resentment.
I knew something had to change. So, at that moment, I swore I would never tell another lie again. Neither one. Even a white lie. I stopped abandoning my own needs and hiding from my loved ones. It was time to show them my true self.
That was two years ago and I haven’t lied since. I wanted to—especially when I had to admit something I found uncomfortable (like being a yoga teacher who can’t do a handstand without support), or when I had to let someone down. I’m racked with guilt after canceling on people without the overly long contrived apology texts I used to send instead of just admitting I didn’t feel ready. I’ve made mistakes too, telling white lies, then realizing what I’ve done: “I’m sorry, I just accidentally lied…I haven’t actually read your book, but I want to!”
It was especially difficult in the beginning. He was going to take me o’clock to respond to a “do you want coffee?” text when my response was “no”. I’d agonize over whether it’s true to say, “I’m sorry, I can’t,” ending up with “I’m not available, but I’ll let you know when I am!”, followed by an overabundance of emoticons to soften the blow. And I squirmed in embarrassment every time I had to tell someone something I knew they didn’t want to hear. From little things like admitting that I couldn’t eat the dessert they had just made me because it contained gluten (before that I would have lied or forced myself to eat it), or telling a friend that I didn’t have room to check them out this week – or the week after.
But gradually I realized that I really don’t i know what they wanted to hear and I hadn’t done at all. Because more often than not I’d tell friends off and instead of being disappointed, they’d be excited, saying, “Oh, great, I didn’t feel ready either!”
I once did something I never thought I was capable of. I told a close friend that I felt we were drifting apart and it might be best if we stopped seeing each other. I expected her to be devastated or furious. The reality? She was relieved that I called him out so we could stop “flogging a dead horse.”
Truth be told, I didn’t push people away like I mistakenly believed before until I was completely alone (my biggest fear). If anything, I was growing closer to those I truly connected with and letting go of those I wasn’t. Some initially struggled because they weren’t used to my honesty – whether it was me giving my honest opinion on their new Asos purchase or expressing how hard it was when they backed out of their plans at the last minute.
But slowly people began to express their gratitude for my newfound honesty. I’ll never forget the first time a friend thanked me for this: “I feel so secure in our friendship because I don’t have to assume anything. I know if I’ve upset you, you’ll just tell me!” Then I truly saw what I’d been denying myself all these years of lying: the chance to be accepted for who I am. My friends wouldn’t abandon me if I told the truth – they would just trust me.
My experience inspired me to write a children’s novel about a girl who couldn’t lie. I dedicated it to my younger self and hope it encourages a new generation to do what I just learned: tell the truth.
Radical honesty is not for the faint of heart – I had to face my biggest fears and feel the shame, guilt and discomfort that comes with having difficult conversations – but it’s one of the greatest joys I’ve ever had discovered.
I learned that there really is no need to lie. There is always a polite way to tell the truth, and if necessary, I can always say that I prefer not to answer questions that are asked of me. Because the alternative is no longer an option. A lie is a disservice to me and to the person who accepts it.
That is why I am fully committed to honoring my vow of honesty. I have no idea where it will take me, and I’m sure there are many more awkward conversations to come, but at least I’ll always be living a fully authentic life.
[ad_2]
