The Thing About Liars (Editorial)

A couple of days ago a close friend confessed she is a liar. She said she chronically fibs about where she goes, about who she sees, about what she really feels and thinks -- everything from coloring a slight exaggeration to a bold-faced whopper bordering on the illegal. We are not talking about simple lies-of-omission or saying whatever comes to mind to bob-and-weave though a sticky social situation.  She seemed quite happy about being committed to falsehood overall. Big chunks of her personal story turn out to be made of whole cloth. Lying is a skill she had developed and nurtured over the course of her life.

While I admired her honesty at the moment, I guess, I also wondered, of course, whether she was lying to me that instance, trying to make herself seem more in control of her life and surroundings in a secret game of stilted Oneupsmanship. Why tell me?

While confession may be good for the soul, it can also burden someone else with the knowledge of what is happening.  Some things you can't take back once said and, finding yourself on that path, the picture of that person is forever altered. What she may have gained in manipulation overall, she lost in true interpersonal trust, even if she was in a flippant mood that day and painted herself a liar for amusement. Trust is one of the major foundations of any relationship. 

I wondered, as well, if I know her at all, really, after years of friendship, if it is possible for anyone to know her fully, and if she was telling the greatest lie of all, which is lying to one's self.

Thinking back, her point may have been to tell me -- in a sideways, reverse-psychology type of way -- that I had options not utilized. In her mind I am "too honest for my own good" (a trait which could make a compulsive liar uncomfortable to be around -- she wants me to lie so she feels better about herself). Except I decided a long time ago to live and die by a personal truth, having been raised in a time when Watergate exposed the government's dark underbelly while being raised in a family deeply wounded by secrets and lies.  If I wasn't honest with my self and those I love, not only am I cheating myself out of the full experience of knowing self and them and the consequences of that, I could never fully trust anyone else -- ever. Truth sets you free. Truth is a starting point of building bonds.

I find it simpler to be open and honest, rather than to make something up.  I don't have the energy to remember who I told what to, in a confounding matrix of stories.  I have enough problems without piling on guilt for whatever lie I told for whatever reason.

Now the moral dilemma...Because I know she has been lying to me, I am hurt, especially since I see no logical reason to lie to me, of all people, and I have to decide whether to confront her or not, living my life honestly, and thereby running the risk of hurting her, perhaps wedging a perceived judgement between us -- my long-time friend.  I have to decide whether or not I can live with her disrespect she obviously has for herself and others.  Or I have to decide to accept that her lies aren't the total of her personality, intentions, and world-view. "Good" people do stupid things and if you cut all the people out of your life who weren't perfect, you'd be alone. Is the friendship worth it?

The truth is I will continue to be her friend but will move on emotionally, protecting myself by not fully engaging in her hall of mirrors deceptions and not believe as much when she tells me she loves me.