One of the most fundamental things to who I am and who I have always been is my deep-seated honesty. I find it physically reviling to lie and feel deeply wounded when it becomes clear I have been deceived by others. I have learned, through nearly 40 years of many hard and sometimes painful lessons, that "little white lies" are the social lubricant that protects other's feelings and keeps society generally flowing along.
I have learned, for instance, not to tell people that I don't like the gift they've given me and to encourage them to take it back (although I still think this is ridiculous). I know I am supposed to respond to the seemingly innocuous question from strangers or acquaintances of, "how are you today?" with "great!" or "fine, thanks!" regardless of how horribly I'm actually falling apart at that moment. I have learned that no one wants, or honestly really needs, me to tell them that they're overweight/have unhealthy eating habits, that their breath stinks/they're wearing far too much perfume/cologne, etc. These situations make me very uncomfortable both because of the assault to my senses and because I feel an overwhelming need to express this 'truth'. I know now that it's best just to get away from the other person as quickly as possible to alleviate both my sensory overload and the mental grating of omitting the truth. Neither option makes me a particularly gregarious individual, but I've learned it's preferable to be seen as rather awkward and a bit scatter brained than outright rude or 'bitchy'.
But where is the line between protecting the feelings of others and weaving a web of lies? When does an exaggeration become a falsehood? Is it a lie if the purveyor believes what s/he says even if that doesn't line up with actual facts that unfolded?
What about the lies children learn to tell themselves, and by extension others, to protect themselves from harm inflicted by those to whom biology dictates they trust? Can these stories ever be completely picked apart, every Rashomonian angle observed, to weave a complete tapestry of what truly unfolded? And when lying becomes a reflex, a cascade of little lies growing into a deluge of larger ones, because the child is instinctively burying a horrifying, terrible truth deep inside him/herself with the lies as the only means of survival, can that child grow into an adult who speaks the truth? Can s/he be blamed or really held responsible if that's not possible?
The constructs of the mind, especially the gifted and brilliant minds capable of so remarkably much, so are powerful that they may not be able to be opened at all, even by the mind that created it. Unfortunately, these minds can wreak havoc on others they encounter. Society labels these minds "manipulative", "deceitful", "crazy", "sociopathic", and perhaps they are. But perhaps too these are the most desperate cries for help. The trapped child begging to finally speak the truth and be held safely.
I end this post with a poignant quote from Alain de Botton's The Course of Love:
Few in this world are ever simply nasty; those who hurt us are themselves in pain. The appropriate response is hence never cynicism or aggression but, at the rare moments one can manage it, always love.
