Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Lies, lies, lies yeah....

I used to be a really good liar. I spent my entire childhood perfecting it. I learned, at an early age, that if you keep up a good facade, people ask no questions. For years and years, I hid things, from drug addiction to suicide attempts to infidelities to other peoples' secrets. It nearly killed me. I excelled in school. I participated in so many social and time-consuming activities, that it seemed impossible to those around me that anything could possibly be wrong.

In school I was very popular, did well, got along with my peers and teachers. I seemed to have it all together. Then, I look back at my journals. I have journals that go as far back as the age of 8. I wrote about feeling alone, about wishing for death, about hiding the ugliness inside of me from everyone around me.

I remember once in high school, a girl at school asked me what was wrong, as I was visibly upset. I had a broken heart. She said, "I got so worried because you are one of the happiest people I know. You're always in a good mood." I literally laughed out loud when she said this. I was 16 at this point, about to graduate. I had already lived through an abusive boyfriend, a lame attempt at suicide and a 2 year bout with heroin that I hid from everyone, including my parents. I had perfect grades, did not get into trouble, horseback rode, played volleyball and even served my time as a cheerleader. I made sure that nobody really knew who I was.

At a certain point in adulthood, the ability to lie well began to elude me. I became more and more transparent. It has gotten to the point that today, I am a terrible liar. I have trouble lying even about stupid little things. People who are closest to me now can attest, I tend to wear it all on my sleeve. If I am troubled about something, I cannot say "Everything is fine," with any sort of conviction. It's as if my body language and voice betray me. I used to think I would be a fantastic spy. I always put up such a good front. Now, the poker-face is gone.

The beautiful thing is that even when I feel sad or mad or lonely or devastated or any other range of emotion, I feel free. I am not trapped by lies that create some hologram of how I want to be seen. I don't do things that I have to lie about. Even when it's hard to be honest, when it's embarrassing, when it's scary, it feels pretty good. I discovered, over the years, that I am not really as horrible as I previously believed. People actually know who I am now and they have not stoned me or lynched me! I don't even know where this tangent came from this evening, but, I have to say I am so fucking grateful that I turned into a really poor liar.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I love it!

Beautiful, Erin. Just like you.