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More evidence that truth is painful -
Certain people are unable to claim responsibility for themselves without making shooting comments at others in the process. Ironically, this has the opposite effect of mitigation. It makes it that much more difficult to find acceptance that leads toward moving on. The deeper the pain, the higher the likelihood of struggling in this regard. The worse result - and there is no result worse than this, is when one lies to himself or herself. Lying to others is simply unseemly, and at best is an attempt toward baiting to create a distraction.
It would be beneficial to ask yourself "What kind of liar are you?" - but the courage it takes to truly answer that question is beyond many of us.
It would be beneficial to ask yourself "What kind of liar are you?" - but the courage it takes to truly answer that question is beyond many of us.
posted by Will at 11:04 PM
1 Comments:
Hey Will. Provocative posting.
Everyone lies.
No idea what kind of liar I am.
But I lie, yes. Of course. Don't writers lie all the time? I've heard that.
As a writer I've wrestled with "truth" versus "perception." I figure truth is impossible. Memories become more distorted the longer you twist them around and look at them and try to make since of what you remember. Slippery slope.
Do you know what I mean?
Memoir is a struggle: never mind artistically, it's emotionally and morally difficult.
I lied to my son about what happened to our dog Potter. But he found out anyway. I felt like shit about that, but I felt I was protecting him at the time, therefore I felt justified in lying although in retrospect I realize I never should have lied to him about the dog. I never lied to my kid about being a stripper, I simply didn't tell him, although when he came up behind me while I was writing something on the computer and he asked, "You were a stripper?" I could have lied, wanted to, in fact, but didn't. God help me. One thing I really want to lie about to my kid is his father, and I never have, and that sucks huge amounts of poopy ass, telling your child the truth, you know, when my son asks, "Does my dad love me?" and I tell him the truth, "No," I want to fucking scratch my eyes out.
My son lies to me but then turns around ten minutes later and admits he lied. I'm not sure why or how long this will last. One thing is, he has little to lie about because he's eleven and because I've parented him in such a way that open communication, discussion, has always been a part of our relationship.
My family was never a bunch of liars. My family simply didn't talk. We were silent. My father's motto is, if you don't talk about it, it doesn't exist. I practiced that a while. But as a writer you really can't for too long. Not if you're a writer worth a shit. When I was a kid, my father's answer to everything was, "Because I said so," saving him from having to confront, discuss, deal with anything difficult or painful, which also succeeded in making me feel as if my opinions and thoughts didn't matter in the least. gernerally, when I did speak up he said, "You're wrong." Sigh.
What kind of liar are you?
Peace,
A
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