While probably not my first lie, it’s the earliest one in my memory. The scene, the playground at my grammar school, by the seesaw. The seesaw made me so nervous. I was terrified of being paired up with a skinny girl and catapulting her into traffic on the first saw. I was chubby as a kid. Or, like Cartman says, big boned. Couple that with being a ginger with huge feet, sporting a face full of freckles, basically one gargantuan freckle, and entering the teen years – EEK! (Sunscreen wasn’t real big back then.)
Kids who had a hard time making fun of other kids had a field day with me. I was a cornucopia of opportunity. Where to begin?
I worked on my personality A LOT to compensate.
I also spun tales. Mainly the one-up kind. I distinctly remember standing in front of the first set of seesaws and one-uping L over…wait for it…the number of fur coats our mothers possessed.
Yes. I know. How cultured of us. And pathetic. But it was better than sending naked pictures of ourselves to our teachers. Or Senators. Or sending naked pictures of our Senators to our teachers.
Anyway, I said my Mom had six. Which was a total lie. When I said it I remember thinking, Why am I saying this? And then I braced for SEVEN, so I could come back with I MEANT EIGHT!
I could tell L was unimpressed with the number of fur coats I said my Mom had because what I said was total vapor. She smelled deceit. Kids know when you’re lying. What’s fun about one-upping if the loot isn’t real? She knew I wasn’t being truthful. L just looked at me like, You are completely lying, said nothing, and scampered off for the jungle gym, which has since been leveled after too many broken limbs.
Oh, those were the days.
I suppose if I sat still long enough and pondered my childhood I would recall moments where I spouted off magic wrapped in honesty, but it’s the lie that is easiest to recall. Even one as seemingly harmless as that one. Perhaps because I know deep inside that the truth will always out (On my Mom’s Top Five Mantras of All Times List) and I will one day have to admit that my Mom had two fur coats. Technically, one beaver coat and one fur cape. There. I said it. Two.
Really one and a half.
Like with everything else, kids test the waters and learn from the consequences of their choices. They tell lies and see what happens. I spent some time with a kitten this past weekend and the subject of children telling lies was one of many that we batted about that day, like a game of pong that went on for over two hours. He said that children tell lies to create separation. To begin the process of creating their independence, keeping some things to themselves as they expand and grow.
So there’s a healthy side to lying? Perhaps. Seems to make sense that a child would lie to create space, to keep something to himself, and may not be conscious of the reason behind it, but simply acting on impulse. Instead of asking, Why did you lie?, should we be teaching how to create independence from a place of honesty? Instead of punishing the lie, teach how to achieve the goal with the truth? Are there other ways of creating independence? The kitten suggested allowing children to make many decisions on their own, and for them to be prepared to handle the consequences of those decisions.
His words have me reflecting on being aware of the dudes’ need to be independent and to foster that in a healthy, supportive way…without hovering.
We want our children to grow out of lying and into honest adults. Everyone from playboy centerfolds to politicians to CEOs and husbands and wives, and all those that fill in the spaces in between say honesty is a turn-on, important, essential, and a must have in any relationship. Yet the majority of people, the vast majority, lie as adults. In our relationships, our work, to those we love and to those we don’t even know.
I’m working this out in my head…we lie as children to create independence, necessary for healthy self-esteem. The goal is to mature and replace the need to lie with a desire to tell the truth, because of the value we place on honest relationships and out of respect for ourselves. That goal isn’t met by many, many people. From ‘little’ lies to double lives, dishonesty is as reliable as gas after brussel sprouts. The experts (who we can assume have experience lying) suggest that one of the main reasons people lie is because we don’t want to be honest about who we really are or what we’ve done. We lie to protect ourselves from the truth, not primarily to deceive another. Which means that we didn’t get that healthy self-esteem we were shooting for when we were telling those lies as children.
Now I’m getting into terrain that is best suited to people with way more going on upstairs than me. I’m still trying to figure out what passive-aggressive means. But I do know a fair amount about the Tour de France.
Somehow we’ve made a sport out of lying. Which is like making a sport out of swatting air. There’s no victory in that. Just like there’s no victor in seven Tour de France races now, because Lance Armstrong has lied. Count me as one of the starry eyed girls who thought, Well, if that dude can beat cancer of the ‘nads, brain and goodness knows what else, he can beat the Alps. He’s just super human!
Uh-huh.
I have watched every Tour de France since 2005, the year I first swooned under the spell of Phil Ligget’s voice as he talked of feet dancing on the pedals and legs that will be burning like a bonfire. It’s a beautiful race, and a herculean effort, doped or not. But nobody can dope a tuchus. Can you imagine what it feels like to be the butt cheeks of one of those bony dudes after day 20? Quite frankly, I can’t. I’m too cushioned there to step into their narrow shoes. I don’t have empathy, I have envy. I always wanted a small ass.
I don’t know if Oprah asked this question or not, but it’s the one I want answered. Let’s forget about the other racers and the whole level playing field argument and view this race like golf. It’s Lance against the course (I know, it’s a team sport, just go with it.) All doped up he finishes the whole race how much faster than squeaky clean Lance? 2 minutes? 5? 30?
Was it worth all that effort to out-cheat everyone else. It’s amazing any of those cyclists had the energy to ride the race after covering up all those tracks.
I’d like to believe that if all the cyclists got into a room big enough to fit them, like, say…a broom closet, and their Moms stood in front of them and said, Boys, this time just do it clean…See who you really are…What you are really made of…Do it clean so you feel good when you cross the finish line…So there’s no doubt…No guilt…No looking over your shoulder, that they would do it for their Moms. Ride the race clean because they value honest relationships.
But lying is rewarded, and a first place finish at the Tour de France with a time that is pedestrian is not good enough. It’s never good enough. Rewarding lying is what makes it all so very confusing for those who lie and for those who don’t want to but feel as if it is the only way to succeed. That it levels the playing field.
The truly frightening part is that lying has become so common it’s as if it’s our universal language. Spoken by everyone, expected by everyone, and accepted.
It’s easy to lie. Or so our minds would like us to believe.
But it’s not without consequence, even if it’s never discovered. Especially if the lie is never discovered.
When we lie, we are telling ourselves, our souls, that the truth about us isn’t good enough to speak. That who we are isn’t who others must want us to be. We push our true selves behind a curtain of deceit to hide our flaws. Our lies give us a false sense of protection, keeping us from being vulnerable and open. We spend our days adding layers to the curtain, burying our selves in the fabric of falsehoods so we can feel better about ourselves.
This is exactly why the brain frustrates me. It concocts all these reasons why something that is harmful is actually good for us. The lies will make us who we really deserve to be, yet the lies destroy the beauty of who we are, leaving real voids in our being. Empty spaces, lights off, the path ahead directionless. Right and wrong are replaced with, Do what you need to in order to win. We become disconnected from ourselves and from others as we flit about creating a new reality that suits our wants, all the while ignoring our needs.
We’re not interesting enough as we are? Our lives aren’t magical enough just as is? Holy arachnid! We are more interesting than we could ever imagine! Our life here on this planet is packed with magic. There isn’t even room for Lance’s left thigh in here! Or is that his forearm?
I can’t tell.
When I finally (maybe?) found out the truth about The Genius’ affair, I asked him how it felt to lie to me for all those years, daily, over and over.
You don’t want to know.
He’s right. I don’t. And I’m not interested in how it felt for Lance Armstrong to lie.
It is curious, though, the near rabid assault on Lance because of his doping and the lies he told to cover it up. He’s been stripped of medals and jerseys, and rightfully so given the rules. His Livestrong foundation has been rocked. Women and men across the world are slicing and dicing him over cocktails and at the water cooler. Sports columnists and opinion columnists and bloggers of all shapes and flavors have called him a disgrace, a sociopath, a narcissist, among other richer descriptions that would make my Mom cringe, so I’ll refrain.
Let’s just say, the dude is being roasted.
Even though we all knew what was going on. And everyone in the sport knew what was going on. And all the agents and Nike and lawyers and hangers-on knew what was going on.
So what happens when a spouse confesses to being unfaithful, to having lied, cheated, broken vows and lit morals and values on fire?
People say, So are you getting divorced? Do the kids know? Are you going to eat that french fry?
A kitten asked me to write about Armstronging and the pervasive culture of deceit, the catalyst for my exploration of what pushes us to leave the truth behind in favor of that which isn’t real. I thought it would be interesting, but what I found most curious are the reactions to lies and how we judge them, not the lies themselves. Are the lies told by Lance more destructive than those told by people who cheat on their spouses?
No.
Are at least 50% of all those married people who are calling Lance a fraud, a disgrace, a sociopath and a narcissist adulterers? Probably.
That means we have progress. That’s how I’m looking at it anyway. Because when one of those people gets caught in a lie, they just might reflect back on how they spoke about Lance with such conviction, yet didn’t require that honesty from themselves.
As if they weren’t worth it, but he was.
Next time my cat uses my cashmere sweater as a litter box, some dude in Nigeria hacks my email and I get a yeast infection, I am not saying, I’m fine.
So why did I tell a lie in the parking lot of Trader Joe’s?
Love yourself,
Cleo
Great post, Cleo. There are lies and there are LIES. The difference between “I like your new top” and “I’ve got a new project so I won’t be home until at least 9:00 pm, honey” are monumental. So monumental that they should have different names. The first is telling someone what they want to hear, to make them feel good about themselves. The other is self-serving, disrespectful and keeping your significant other from knowing what is really going on in their own life. I’m stunned that so many people actually think they have the right to manipulate someone else’s view of their own life. One thing that really jumped out at me is the kitten saying children lie to create distance. That’s what ALL liars do. Adults who perpetrate these lies are creating distance so they can carry on their double lives. And as for Lance Armstrong, I don’t think he ever looked over his shoulder. I think he was convinced he was not only the greatest cyclist ever, but the greatest liar ever. I don’t know how he didn’t cringe every time he looked into his children’s eyes or every time he saw a child with a “Livestrong” bracelet on. But I think the person who bought his lies most of all was him. The evidence? His blazingly arrogant Tweet of a photo of him with his seven Tour de France jerseys on the day the news broke about his doping. That says it all. Liars are cowards, pure and simple. Liars are weak. I’m teaching my son to consider his actions before he does them. If its something he’ll have to lie about later, it’s best not to do it. Because lying eats at your soul. I can only hope my influence on him is stronger than his father’s.
S,
This is one of the best morsels of wisdom ever: I’m teaching my son to consider his actions before he does them. If its something he’ll have to lie about later, it’s best not to do it.
Do not choose to do something that you may have to lie about in the future. Brilliant.
I’ve been pondering little and big lies lately.Obviously. The little ones are sneaky. Maybe not as innocent or well-meaning as they may seem. Some may say an ugly blouse is pretty for personal gain – so that they look better next to the ugly blouse. If it is said simply to make the person feel good about themselves it misses the mark because the person will really feel better in a more suitable blouse. I’m excited to be faced with a situation like this so that I can say something like, The blouse is pretty but it doesn’t highlight your gorgeous eyes, or supremely hot rack, or creamy mocha latte complexion.
And then because no good deed goes unpunished (which I am saying for humor’s sake as I don’t believe in that at all), she’ll think I’m hot for her and I’ll have to explain that while I think woman are beautiful and soft and smell good, I’m into guys.
Maybe I should just pretend I don’t speak English. But then that would be lying.
Thank you for being here, m’lady. I love how you make me ponder.
Love yourself,
Cleo
I think kids lie because they learn it from their parents. people think they can lie to their kids like they lie to everyone else but they can’t. kids know. And they remember. As long as you don’t lie to (or in front of) your kids they’ll respect and value honesty.
N,
Children see through all the layers of nonsense adults string up, and then mimic our moves. Everything from a simple, We can’t buy that because I didn’t bring any cash (when the wallet is full) to Don’t tell your mother, a more serious infraction on so many levels, is easily spotted by children as a lie. Or in the case of the latter, teaching a child to lie.
Life is so much less complicated and more fulfilling when the truth is spoken. I commit to be thoroughly honest, in an age-appropriate manner, with the dudes. I’m not their Mom to be their friend, and they are not here for me to point to and say, I made that. They are here to live their lives, make their choices and I will keep them safe as they go about having a human existence.
I’m looking forward to really focusing in on the truth and removing even those little I’m fine! lies. Thank you for being here and for taking the time to comment.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Thank you for being here, N.
Us amateur cyclists know, doped or not, Lance and his druggy team can kick our much-wider asses on any given day. That was not my issue with his behavior. It was the lying after the blood retests came back positive. After the technology caught up with his methods and proved he’d had the drugs in his system when he won those races. His other teammates ‘fessed up. He sat there and spoke indignantly about “You know what I’m on? I’m on a bike all day”. Nike took this to their commercials, knowing it was a lie. He didn’t shed a tear with Oprah, because he still doesn’t think he did anything wrong. And the lying? Ah, well, it got away from him, he couldn’t stop the train. His poor kids. What have they learned from this?
I have people in my periphery life who lie to the people I care about. An ex-wife who tells my partner she will pay him the child support, when she knows she has no plan to write that check. Or she writes that check and it bounces like a fat man on a bungee cord. Lies. A co-worker who says she will follow through on basic tasks expected of her. Not happening.
I am sure I have said “I’m fine” when I mean “none of your business, leave me alone” as everyone does. I might fudge the truth to make things go easier. I feel a nauseous pang if any untruth I say gets bigger than that. That’s my conscience poking me, reminding me to keep it straight. Its also the little whisper I hear at night before I fall asleep that says, “You did good today”.
T,
Reminds me of the Kobe Bryant Nike ad that ran after the Colorado consensual rape where he looks right into my eyes and says, Just Do It. Made me want to crash through my TV and rip his face off. But instead I just stopped buying Nike. And if I ever waver, I just remember the Tiger Woods commercial…
Situations like these, especially Lance’s given how long he perpetrated the deceit, are fascinating. I’m grateful they exist. It’s because of these situations that we have an opportunity to ponder how we are living our lives. Some will choose to move on as is, but for others it will be a catalyst for change. I am much more conscious of the “I’m fine” lies and when I do say something that isn’t a full truth I stop myself and if needed (meaning if I didn’t catch it in my throat) I own it on the spot. I don’t do biggie lies. Not good at it, never will be and don’t want to.
Although I’m thinking about telling myself that my bum is pretty much exactly the same size as Victoria Beckham’s. We create our own reality, right??
Thank you for being here, T. May your feet be forever dancing on the pedals.
Love yourself,
Cleo
“It’s easy to lie. Or so our minds would like us to believe. But it’s not without consequence, even if it’s never discovered, ESPECIALLY if the lie is never discovered”!!! CLEO, WE JUST DETERMINED THAT THE TRUTH WILL
A L W A Y S OUT!!! I loved the post but remember the lesson; THE TRUTH WILL A L W A Y S OUT !!! The lie WILL be discovered! It never fails!! THAT is why we might just as well tell the truth!! If we should find that a lie has escaped our lips , grab it, right as it comes out of our mouth and push it back in by saying, “I’m sorry. I am afraid I didn’t respond honestly. What I mean to say is …”.
Love you, Cleo – AND THAT IS THE TRUTH!!!
I,
Yes, we might as well tell the truth. The best part about telling the truth is it FEELS GREAT! Like a sea breeze while the sun sets and surfer boys dot the waves, people clap as the sun sinks and Nature shows off her beautiful self.
Never a truer sentiment was spoken: The truth will set you free.
Thank you for being here, I, and for taking the time to comment. I love you, too.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Cleo,
With all that extra time you have on your hands, (uh huh), I’d encourage you to consider perusing what I think is a quality book: New Parent Power by John Rosemond. It may shed some light on your quest to understand people’s decisions; the decision to lie or not, being one of them.
Furthermore, it’s a splendid resource for parenting. My boys are weeks away from being 6 and 3 and I couldn’t have found this book at a better time. It’s not a difficult read. You can easily skim the parts of less value (if you can find any).
(I feel a desire to apologize for encouraging you to take on any new task. Your plate is more than full. I’ve only commented one other time, though read your posts religiously. I hope you consider at least glancing through it should the opportunity arise.)
You’re doing great work.
G
G,
As your comment came in I was talking to my Mom – another Mom/daughter marathon phone conversation. I lap them up like creme brulee with Madagascar vanilla laced throughout. 60 minutes later I say, I’m exhausted. I can’t begin the post. I’m so excited to write it but I’m so tired. Go to sleep, she says, but get up EARLY because I can’t stand the waiting! And neither can anyone else.
Of course, as my Mom, she imagines you all salivating over your keyboard waiting for the next installment. That’s what Moms do. Then she said, You ought to let them know what you are juggling. But I don’t need to do that because we ALL are juggling a thousand things and understand that times like these require some patience. Today I had a home inspection, a mover come for a quote, a plumber come to fix a shower and a variety of other tweaks. I have a dog recovering from surgery, furniture to sell because it won’t fit into the cottage, and a nose to blow incessantly. Thankfully I don’t have “my country’s 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it”. But I’m still swamped.
Yet, when I read your comment it struck me. Don’t just write this book down on your list, but buy it now. So I shall. And one day I will get to all those other books, for I know that I will have two weeks on a remote island with a perfect fit of a spirit by my side while I read away. I don’t need that now, but when the time arrives I will be so very grateful. In the interim, I’ll wonder who that spirit might be. And continue to amass my list. Yours will be had sooner. Thank you. I appreciate your nudge and your awareness of the pace of my life right now. A pace I love. But now I must sleep. At 9:30! So not me. But so necessary.
Thank you, G. I’m grateful you took the time to share this book with me.
Love yourself,
Cleo
I’m fine is my favorite lie to tell. Mainly because, I’m NEVER fine. I can’t even imagine actually saying I’m fine without it being a lie. I love your blog. I loved your blog a year ago when I started reading it. Loved it to the point where I told you you were changing my life, and you were, but I got busy, like we do, and stopped reading. Now I’m rediscovering you and it’s true, you have a way of writing that makes me feel like I’m not alone, which I’ve heard other people say. And right now, I feel so utterly alone. I just want you to know that you’re blog is so so important to me. I sort of wish I could stalk you and ask you to be my therapist (I swear I’m not crazy), just desperate for a little guidance. Thank you thank you thank you. Please keep writing.
L,
I am here for you. Stalk away. Thank you for your very kind words. It feels good to be re-found!
So what would you say to me if I told you that you are fine? Perfectly fine. By your very own design you are exactly where you need to be. You’re taking steps to seek out those who can support you for this leg of your supremely magical journey. I sense that the most practical suggestion I can give you is to stay firmly planted in the moment. Don’t look ahead or behind. When you do, gently pull your self back to center. There’s something very important that you need to see now.
After I complete this move in the next few weeks to a sleepy little town, I will be ready to help in a more personal way, but for now please stay close and know that you can email me directly at any time. The address is on the about page. I have been carried about like a treasured find by so many beautiful souls here at HGM that all I want to do is to return the love and support.
And now I’m off to write. Tonight and forever. So grateful you returned.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Thank you Cleo for your reply. Your words are so true – I DO need to stay in the moment. Looking to the past and the future is one of my biggest character defects (AA lingo – 8 years sober over here). I have been trying to remind myself this every day.
L,
Nicely done on the 8 years C&S, beautiful! Exercises to stay in the moment helped me a lot. Especially when I’m stressed. I say, What’s happening at this very moment in time that is stressful and the answer is nothing 90% of the time. The other 10% of the time I try to make the choice to laugh and be grateful that I haven’t been kidnapped or acquired Ebola or am trapped in the mouth of a Great White. That usually takes care of it.
These exercises are just as important as the sweaty kind. So grateful you are here, L. So very grateful.
Love yourself,
Cleo
I’m sorry you’re feeling so alone, Lana. Your post really touched me. Make it a priority to read Cleo’s every post on HGM. In the wee small hours of the morning, when I feel vulnerable and shaky and alone, she always seems to say something I need to hear. And I will bet all of Cleo’s readers are pulling for you. You are not alone. We’re here. Hugs.
S,
Thank you for being so caring. You’ve touched me.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Thank you Stephanie – I really appreciate your support and you are right – there is always something I need to hear on this blog! : )
Cleo, I’ve commented a handful of times and you know how important your blog is to me, and how I treasure the morsels of wisdom you share with your kittens, and how I hope to one day be able to meet you and look you in the eye and thank you in person for your courage and selflessness. Which is why I feel compelled to express my exasperation at one particular comment. You end a paragraph with this sentence: “Which means that we didn’t get that healthy self-esteem we were shooting for when we were telling those lies as children.” Being the parent of a girl, I felt a very strong need to inculcate a healthy sense of self esteem in her and to teach her to value her own worth. Of course this is vital for boys too, but girls are a little different. Society tries to squeeze us into its mold and teaches us that it is of the utmost importance to have a perfect complexion, bigger breasts than the ones we were born with, to have Victoria Beckham’s tiny and thus more attractive derrier. But beauty is only skin deep. Morals, values, honesty, integrity – these are the building blocks on which to lay a solid foundation.
That said, I have never been a fan of self deprecating humor. I feel it unnecessarily devalues a person. And saying things like, “I’m so stupid” or “I hate the way I look” or even worse “I hate myself” is truly awful. Would you say that to your best friend? Or even to a workmate or a classmate? To a perfect stranger? Of course not! Why would you then say such a thing to yourself? Saying, “I hate when I do that!” or “I hate the way this red sweater makes my face look to rosy” is a completely different thing. You can stop repeating behavior that you know is unhealthy, and you can donate that red sweater to charity. And all the while you have maintained your precious self respect.
Immediately after ending the paragraph with the sentence I quoted above, you begin the very next paragraph with this sentence: “Now I’m getting into terrain that is best suited to people with way more going on upstairs than me.”
You make mention of building healthy self esteem as children and then you devalue your own self! Granted, you may not be an expert on the psychology of how lying and building healthy self esteem in children are intertwined, but it just makes me want to baby-shake you to hear you say you’re not very smart. That could NOT be further from the truth. Please, for the love of all things good in the world, don’t say such things about yourself!! TG has spun enough cruel lies about you. Adding to the list is wrong in every way. I have a strong urge to lavish all kinds of praise on you and remind you of the many reasons why you are adored by throngs of kittens. But I must keep this comment to at least a somewhat reasonable length so I will refrain.
Love you! Stay strong.
lad
L,
You are so RIGHT! Words are powerful. Thoughts become things. Loving oneself isn’t a half-assed endeavor. I am grateful you took the time to comment in such a heartfelt way. You’ve made me more aware of the little ways I do not support myself, even if it’s under the guise of being funny or flippant.
I’ll chalk it up to living in a single story home, so there’s not much going on upstairs. But the home in Bolinas has two floors. The top floor is all mine. Thank you for being here and for supporting me in such a loving way. I love you, too.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Hi – I just started reading your blog a couple of weeks ago and am quickly catching up! I love your writing, and I love your attitude. Seeing how you’ve been able to turn your life around and make the absolute best out of an awful situation has been truly inspiring, especially in light of some curveballs that life has thrown at me recently!
Wanted to comment on this post, because I really liked your thoughts on the human tendency to lie. It reminded me of a scene in my favorite Tennessee Williams play, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” in which Brick delivers a monologue on mendacity. Really interesting, and deals with a lot of what you covered in this post. If you haven’t seen the movie with Paul Newman and Elizabeth Taylor, I highly recommend it. Even if the mendacity monologue doesn’t hit home with you like it did with me, there’s a scene in which Paul Newman is shirtless and looking absolutely delicious that will still make it worth it
(Added bonus – Paul Newman was faithful to his wife Joanne Woodward for fifty years, which makes him even sexier to me!)
Thanks again for your blog – looking forward to catching up to see what you’re doing now!
R,
Thank you for taking the time to comment and for your kind words. I have not seen the film. It’s a perfect kick off to my Winter of Returning to Film. Kind of like My Year of Finding the Meaning in Baseball, which was a huge success. I need film back in my life. Thank you for the nudge.
Ah, Paul Newman. A fine example of a man in balance. He never made life complicated. Never made excuses. He simply made good choices.
Grateful to have you here, R!
Love yourself,
Cleo