Liar, liar - pants on fire - hmmmm
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Once upon a time I had two good friends who lied - and their wives backed them up.
One lied about who he had been in a war that he could have participated in (but he didn't) in order to make himself look bigger and better than he was. As he aged, the stories about the past lessened until he was finally comfortable in his own skin.
His lies had no impact on anything but himself as his past really had no relevance to anyone but himself. He didn't lie in order to lord it over anyone - it was just in the way he defined himself.
The other lied in order to make himself look good and you inadequate. At a point I was struggling with working full time, staying married, and attending a difficult graduate school, he would remind me that the school you attended mattered and mine wasn't one of the ones that mattered.
My problems were insignificant, his were so much more important. His school was one of those up north that MATTERED - mine was - well, ok, but nothing more. Eventually I realized that if I had good news his was better. If I had bad news his was worse. And I quit visiting.
The first man was always proud of me and gave me a hand when I was down - and when I learned that he had lied it was not a surprise but it didn't matter and it didn't change my love for him. I missed him when he died and miss him still.
The second? I got tired of being put down as part of every conversation and hadn't spoken to him for the 20 years prior to his death. When all the lies came out - his wife had left him ten years before when he finally stole too much from her - it was no surprise and meant nothing to me.
I don't understand why someone would lie about who they are and what they have done. Sometimes I look back and smack myself (ala "I could have had a V8") thinking I should have done this, I could have done that, but I am content with where I am (most of the time and for the things within my control. I want more than I will get from my job and more for my students than they are willing to do - but I recognize that they need to want it.). I didn't end up where I thought I would but where I can see I needed to be.
Why would I want to lie about who I am? Why would anyone?
7 comments:
I think there are those that lie to make themselves seem better than they are...and those who lie because they are ashamed of who they are.... In either case the lies end up surfacing and those people are worse off than if they had just told the truth!
That is a sad story...and I think you have the right perspective!
Happy Saturday!
Linda
Best policy is to keep your pants as cool as possible.
Excellent article led by those few words!
I am amazed that you, too, know someone who lied about his service to his country. For years I believed my (ex)husband and made myself understand his "horrors" that cried out on military holidays. What a fool I was to be blinded by love and lies!
To lie or not to lie...that was their choice, and now they must live with their answer, so sad.
I think for some people, it's really hard to be content with who they are and where they are, regardless of how much control they have over the situation. But some of us deal better with that than others. And some deal with it by lying. Small lies, big lies...
I grew up doing a lot of lying. My mother was (and still is) a horrible liar so it never occurred to me that it was wrong. If I thought I could get away with it and it made me more interesting (classic narcissist), then that was ok! It took awhile for me to learn that those lies have consequences. She still hasn't learned.
Anyways, interesting post. As always. I've been busy and haven't visited in awhile and picked a handful of 6WS entries at random today. I'm glad yours was one of them.
There are times I'd like to lie about myself. I have many diagnoses attached to my name and I'd like to lose them but they aren't those type of diagnoses. I also have many life experiences in my history, which I would rather forget. When I'm feeling especially vulnerable and over-whelmed, I'd like to lie about those things, which much like your first friend wouldn't affect anyone but me, myself and I. In the end, I don't because what would be the point? The diagnoses would remain and the experiences are still mine, whether I want to acknowledge them today or not.
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