Liar Liar...

The last thing I am is a liar. I am probably the straightest-straight talker I know. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I'm unashamed of who I am. I have always believed that to lie is to deny yourself and others of yourself. I abhor lies. They make me feel riddled with guilt. Guilt that sloshes around in my soul like sour milk.

Yet here I am - - ex-wife in waiting - - having discovered that the life I was leading for many many years wasn't authentic at all. It wasn't me. Was I a liar? Did the non-liar actually lie to herself for so long and so well that she became what she despises the most? Now, let me say what I know you are thinking....Yes - I think that there are degrees of lying. When I really contemplate what I did, I know that my pain came from a place of wanting, of doing good, of being righteous. It was not lying out of deception, even though the end result was hurt and shock. I lied to protect myself and to protect my family.

That said, my life has completely changed. But lies still exist and seem to be more obvious and, dare I say it, necessary. There are just some actions and thoughts that I can't divulge to people, or to my family, mostly for fear of judgment or unnecessary repercussions. The price I pay is the guilt. The guilt is always the same, if not worse when lies are blatant. I risk hurting others with my lies but there are just some things that I'd like to keep to myself right now. If you see my previous post about the importance of things, some of my lies protect these precious "things" - - They are self-serving but they also heal me. Maybe it's not the way others would heal themselves, but it's working for me right now.