Do you ever lie to the people that care about you to cover up the truth? Do you find it is easier to lie than to be honest? Just curious.

Sisu

I have caught my ex-BF in at least two lies. Lies that didn't need to be told because I didn't even need to know the information either way. One was a lie about being physically ill and need to leave immediatly when at work. Of course I worried about him....who wouldn't?

I think it is his twisted way to keep my on the hook just a bit longer so he can figure out what to do with me. I am feeling empowered right now and I just sent him an email stating that he needs to be accountable for his behavior towards me. He cannot treat me poorly and if he does, I will not tolerate it. I will be gone.

I can't stand lies. I would rather the cold hard truth any day to a lie.

Sisu

ALWAYS!

I would not class it as lying though! I believe that sometimes the person who is not being totally honest is not always aware that they are withholding. Sometimes I know that I feel a certain way but I feel frozen and find it too difficult to express it, for many reasons. Sometimes I would express the feeling after I have dealt with it. This is all dependent on what it is that I am feeling. If the feeling or thought is just too much then I may just continue to supress it!

We all have indivdualistic ways of coping and until someone is ready to undo their dysfunctional coping mechanism the people that they are close to may always feel like they are lying, as you put it.

Spirit x

I can't stand lies either... if someone lies to me and didn't have a darn good reason for it, they feel my wrath. Have you talked with him yet about why he felt the need to lie to you about it?

As for the question, I don't lie to people I am close to. If its something I don't want to say, I just go silent and then they know the truth from my silence. Sometimes I will just tell them "sorry, I can't talk about that now." If its something that I have the opportunity to hide if I wanted, I probably wouldn't hide it if it was anything that could affect me or the other person. I just don't see a reason to and I hate lies and cover-ups so much I just can't do it.

I think I can relate to that 2nd post?

It's the mask of a PTSD sufferer, well it was for me. Never being truhtful with myslef meant that I would not be with others' either. I thought I had to present myself to the world in a certain way in order to feel accepted.

It's scary sometimes to admit that you are vulnerable, not coping, not as you feel you should be in this world be that physically and or mentally.

Spirit x

My initial post was answering the main thread. I do not condone lying. However, depending on the lie I would ask the person why they felt the need to mislead you? It's not always the worst case-scenario that we imagine it to be. I would ask first then assess how you feel.

Spirit x

I think that he is lying to me right now because he truly doesn't want me out of his life, but he cannot handle me in his life right now either. When I ask him to go to lunch or something....that is when the lies happen. He makes up a lie to say he can't go instead of just saying....I can't go. When he does go he says he loves me or that I am still his best friend and he kisses me.

I was continuing to periodically ask him to lunch or something just to let him know that I care and that I am still here. He seemed receptive to all of if. I guess I just need to leave him alone and he will contact if and when he is ever ready.

I just can't do the lies.

Sisu

I am sad to write that lying is second nature to me. Lying about myself...my state of being; lying to myself and struggling so to stop it.

There was so much lying and deceit and covering up done in my family's home...and for me it was a matter of survival. Telling the truth didn't seem to do any good or make any difference. More often than not, I couldn't speak. Froze into panic. Couldn't think. Blank as a black hole.

I had to suppress every clue to the truth about my home life. I had to feel, think, remember nothing to get through a day at school without anyone noticing me.

This self-negation nearly killed me when I was nine.

We had a pedal-car in our huge basement. One day I got into the car and badly scraped the top of my right ankle on a rusty fragment. A huge triangle of flesh had been opened and the wound was bleeding like mad. Somehow I got upstairs to my bathroom without being detected; I ran a hot bath and sat in it for ages, thinking that rinsing the foot would get all the gunk out. Then I wrapped my foot in bandages.

I got through one day at school. My ankle was swelling, hot, taut and rigid. I limped into that evening but still evaded notice.

The next day...I was rushed home from the school infirmary after collapsing. I couldn't walk. High fever. Was carried into my house, into the kitchen, was sat on the counter. Screaming and crying. My mother and at least one of our domestic staff (yes, we had one...and some of those people were my life-savers; one is my spiritual mother) yanked off my sock, tore off the gory mess of gauze and Band-Aids I'd rigged around my foot, and went ballistic. I was hauled to the hospital and massively dosed with antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, and painkillers.

Decades later, my mother confided to me that if I'd gone one more day, my right leg would have had to be amputated at the knee. My body was beginning to go into sepsis; I could have died from blood poisoning.

For me, illness was cause for punishment. So was injury. My mere presence in a room could set my mother off. I had to live in exile among my relatives, even as I lived within their walls.

I had to make my whole life a lie in a way...just because I was alive.

Illness was sometimes a cause for excitement and a bizarre celebratory spirit in my mother. If one of her children's illnesses worked to her advantage -- got her lots of attention, possibly some new pharmaceuticals, maybe a trip to the Caribbean to get her out of the sickhouse -- she became flamboyantly attentive to us while regaling the doctors with the horror stories. Sometimes we had to lie about our symptoms --> to pretend to be sick -- so that our mother could get her thrills. I was submitted to at least one invasive and unnecessary surgery.

I in particular somehow had to make my body lie, to show the symptoms that my mother was in such a frenzy about.

Absolutely crazy-making.

At the same time, ethically...I feel such sorrow and abhorrence for how easily we humans lie to one another. I feel like slime for the instances when I lied and really hurt others. Every choice we make, every seemingly crazy behaviour ends up ultimately making sense...and lying brings such harm, almost always. Sometimes, too, a lie can keep a person alive.

Sorry for the downer tone of this post...I'm having a really hard day :-(

Roo

After reading what Roo wrote I think I misunderstood the question a little. I am not always honest with or about my feelings. Especially with certain people (and sometimes even to myself). I can freeze up or I am afraid of their reactions.

For example, my Mom is a nurse and since she dealt with illness all day in the hospital she doesn't like seeing it at home and while she wasn't mean about it, her frustrated reactions to physical illness at home were enough to scare me into not saying anything until I was pretty sick.

Now if its a direct question about where I've been or something I've done, or if I did something bad I usually can't lie about those things (though it can depend on the person).

I hope that makes sense...

Sisu,
I don't lie but I don't offer any info on my dealing with depression and PTSD. I don't mention anything to my daughter and very little to my husband or friends. Maybe, by my moods they already know and maybe I think I am hiding it but am not.
sunnydaze