There is no question about it, we lie. We lie at work, school, and even church. Sometimes we lie to make ourselves look good, other times we don’t know why we lie. For others, lying even comes naturally. Overtime my lies have grown from white lies (those considered to be “good”) to more crafted, outlandish ones.
Even as a child my imagination was wild. Just like any six-year-old, I told tales but mine was a bit more dramatic. As I grew, so did my lies. In order to avoid going to work, I once lied about being mugged the day before. According to my boss, a set of uncles and aunts have all passed away in the course of my two years working for the same company. And an ex or two will tell you- with every sureness- that I have a high-profile job in Ethiopia waiting for me, leaving me to walk away from the relationship. I lied so much that my lies became true to me.
While I felt guilty for telling the most outrageous lies, like the death of family members, I found some relief in knowing that there was some truth in them. I left Ethiopia as an infant and as years passed, I lost several family members back home, and didn’t have a chance to go to their funerals. In my mind, that served as justification and made right the wrong I knew it was, deep down inside. I am not proud of my lies and until recently was living in regret because of them.
In time I found that lying takes effort and was in fact doing more damage than I ever thought to consider. For each fabrication I told, I had to create a file for it in my overloaded memory. But more than that, I was beginning to feel the weight of having to shed parts of myself with each lie I told.
Now, it’s only ideal that as everything around me changes, so must I. Each day I find reason to put the lies behind me and step forward into the light of a more authentic life.