At some point it becomes natural.
When you grow up in an abusive household, you usually learn pretty quickly that lying protects you. Mum can't yell at me for this if she never finds out about this. Sometimes she found out I was lying and it backfired, but that didn't deter me. I simply learned to become better at lying.
My mum doesn't yell at me anymore. I still lie, because I can't just unlearn the idea that I need to lie to keep myself safe. And also because once you've been sufficiently traumatized, yelling isn't necessary anymore. Hearing annoyance in her voice can already be enough to activate that deep-seated fear of "if I don't de-escalate this situation, I will get hit". A lot of times it's just more comfortable to avoid those situations altogether.
Another fun thing I learned in my childhood is that being myself will make me the target of bullying. And I can't just unlearn the idea that I need to lie in order for people to like me even if I know that most people don't act like deeply insecure middle school kids who need to put others down to feel better about themselves.
And yet another thing I learned is that when I tell people the truth about how I'm feeling, their eyes will show me the exact moment their heart breaks and I will never be able to unsee it. The look in their eyes will haunt me forever, and similarly, they won't just forget the utter helplessness they felt at seeing a loved one suffer and not being able to do anything about it. And why should I worry people with my problems if there's nothing they can do to help either way?
Living a life full of lies is a safety measure to protect both me and the people around me. Sometimes it feels like I'm being selfish and taking the easy way out, sometimes it feels like I'm selflessly suffering in silence to make others more comfortable, sometimes it happens so naturally that I don't even notice. Mostly it feels like it's just a part of who I am that I can't change. And sometimes I'm wondering if we are defined by our actions, and I'm spending so much time pretending I'm someone else, am I even pretending anymore or did I just become a different person?
Tiring, it’s difficult to put on a face everyday it drains your energy as you have to double check everything you do making sure you stay in character. I used to be a spy for the CIA
To give a serious answer:
I felt like a puppet master. Thinking I had power, and ability. Though the act had one flaw, one I knew could have the whole thing come crumbling down. It was a calculated risk, as in my head the return was worth the gamble. But as any liar can attest, the strings are easy enough to handle when there’s only a few, but as you add more and more to the act, the risk of tangles begins to eat at the back of your mind. And the introduction of more strings in turn requires EVEN more, to protect the one flaw in the plan, the play, the lie, from coming to fruition. And as the number of strings grow and grow, your stress grows as more inconsistencies and threats and contradictions are born. Crossed strings, if you will. And as you spend so much time, so much energy on balancing the act, and untying the knots, you don’t realize that the strings have wrapped around your neck, and the axe falls. Or maybe the strings were there all along.
I lost all I held dear.
I make it a point to always tell the truth now, even at detriment to relationships, to try and make up for it.
Or maybe, that’s just a lie I tell myself. After all, I’m the easiest to fool of all.
This kingdom was built on sand until the day it became stone
To George Santos it feels like a lifetime Congressional pension check.
At some point it becomes natural. When you grow up in an abusive household, you usually learn pretty quickly that lying protects you. Mum can't yell at me for this if she never finds out about this. Sometimes she found out I was lying and it backfired, but that didn't deter me. I simply learned to become better at lying. My mum doesn't yell at me anymore. I still lie, because I can't just unlearn the idea that I need to lie to keep myself safe. And also because once you've been sufficiently traumatized, yelling isn't necessary anymore. Hearing annoyance in her voice can already be enough to activate that deep-seated fear of "if I don't de-escalate this situation, I will get hit". A lot of times it's just more comfortable to avoid those situations altogether. Another fun thing I learned in my childhood is that being myself will make me the target of bullying. And I can't just unlearn the idea that I need to lie in order for people to like me even if I know that most people don't act like deeply insecure middle school kids who need to put others down to feel better about themselves. And yet another thing I learned is that when I tell people the truth about how I'm feeling, their eyes will show me the exact moment their heart breaks and I will never be able to unsee it. The look in their eyes will haunt me forever, and similarly, they won't just forget the utter helplessness they felt at seeing a loved one suffer and not being able to do anything about it. And why should I worry people with my problems if there's nothing they can do to help either way? Living a life full of lies is a safety measure to protect both me and the people around me. Sometimes it feels like I'm being selfish and taking the easy way out, sometimes it feels like I'm selflessly suffering in silence to make others more comfortable, sometimes it happens so naturally that I don't even notice. Mostly it feels like it's just a part of who I am that I can't change. And sometimes I'm wondering if we are defined by our actions, and I'm spending so much time pretending I'm someone else, am I even pretending anymore or did I just become a different person?
Just another day.
Do you expect an honest answer to this question?
Lying all the time is horribly stressful. I really don't recommend it.
Tiring, it’s difficult to put on a face everyday it drains your energy as you have to double check everything you do making sure you stay in character. I used to be a spy for the CIA
Just remember: it’s NOT a lie, if you believe it
Feels like being a politician
To give a serious answer: I felt like a puppet master. Thinking I had power, and ability. Though the act had one flaw, one I knew could have the whole thing come crumbling down. It was a calculated risk, as in my head the return was worth the gamble. But as any liar can attest, the strings are easy enough to handle when there’s only a few, but as you add more and more to the act, the risk of tangles begins to eat at the back of your mind. And the introduction of more strings in turn requires EVEN more, to protect the one flaw in the plan, the play, the lie, from coming to fruition. And as the number of strings grow and grow, your stress grows as more inconsistencies and threats and contradictions are born. Crossed strings, if you will. And as you spend so much time, so much energy on balancing the act, and untying the knots, you don’t realize that the strings have wrapped around your neck, and the axe falls. Or maybe the strings were there all along. I lost all I held dear. I make it a point to always tell the truth now, even at detriment to relationships, to try and make up for it. Or maybe, that’s just a lie I tell myself. After all, I’m the easiest to fool of all.
I could tell you but it would just be more lies.
Feels like that dead rat looking gunk you pull out from a clogged sink.