To you, October may be Breast Cancer Awareness Month or National Poetry Month, but to me, it’s Stop Lying Month. I have already detailed the lies I tell to my children (here and here) and the ones I tell my husband (here).
Image credit: http://wernercarol.blogspot.com
And there’s one more acre of fertile soil where I produce a bumper crop of lies.
I’m talking about the lies I tell myself. Those are the lies that matter the most because they are quiet, invisible, and no one can bust me on those.
Anyone recognize these?
- I’m just going to look. This is what I say as I cross the threshold of any commercial enterprise, including Ann Taylor, 7-11, Anthropologie, or the airport gift shop. You know how many times in my 39 years I have only looked (and not purchased)? Maybe 5, and 4 of those were because I forgot my wallet.
- I don’t care what you think. OH BULLSHIT. I care. I care so much it hurts my epidermis. It’s true I wish I didn’t care what you think, but I do care.
- I don’t need help. The truth is that I wish I didn’t need help, but I do. This lie applies to all areas of my life: I need help letting go of what you think of my blog, figuring out iPhone Apps, finding the Saran Wrap in Target, and taking care of my children.
- I don’t want dessert. Not true, interlocutor, not true. More often, I am scared of dessert. I am scared of the calories and the deliciousness and the questions that follow me after I eat it: Will it make me fat? Will I be able to stop eating it if I start? So much noise. It’s not that I don’t want the dessert; I don’t want the noise.
- I write for myself. I wish this was true; sometimes it is true. If it was, then I wouldn’t have such shitty days when no one comments on my blog or when the Huffington Post fails to respond to my awesome pitch(es). If I just wrote for myself and all the pleasure it brought me, I wouldn’t have a blog.
- I should have [insert some action I didn't take]. Oh for the love of pita bread, I wish this lie would die. Coulda, shoulda, woulda. I should have gone to the University of Texas because the English program is better. I should have found a smaller law firm sooner so I could work part-time. I should have left that relationship sooner because he was never going to marry me. These are lies because I did what I needed to do in each instance and each of those paths led me here to my life today. As Maya Angelou said, “Wouldn’t take nothing for my journey now.”
- I’m not going to check my phone for an hour. Again, patent bullshit. You would not believe the lies I tell myself all damn day about social media. I’m at the park, and I vow not to check my email or my texts because I am going to be present. I promise I will step away for a whole hour. I never make it. Once I made it a full 20 minutes, but I was sweating and craving chocolate enchiladas before 10 minutes elapsed. I want more freedom from technology, but lying to myself isn’t doing the trick.
- I’m going to clean that tomorrow. The closet. The kids’ drawers. The junk drawers in the kitchen. You name it, I told myself I would clean it tomorrow. It’s laughable. I swear, though, every time I say it, I mean it, but time proves that I am a liar over and over.
- I have plenty of time. This lie gets me into trouble, because I say this to myself when I have 15 minutes until my babysitter leaves, but I am still planning to run to Target, the dry cleaners, the bank, the library, and the post office. I never have enough time, but every time I look at my watch, I tell myself I have plenty of time. It’s always a lie.
- Tomorrow I will take it easy. At nightfall, I find myself wiped out, bone tired, and rather bitchy, so I vow to myself that I won’t run around so much tomorrow. I sincerely intend to take a nap or just sit and relax or learn to say no. Sometimes I slow down, but only when I have the stomach flu, which prevents me from moving beyond my bedroom.
I prefer to call these aspirations Christie.
Love it!
I am guilty of lie #8. I have good intentions to clean but it never translates into reality. Does a junk drawer really need to be cleaned? Just hope and pray your guests never see the secret mess.
Hey, you’re right! Why clean a junk drawer!?
I have come to peace with the concept that if they’re coming to see the junk drawer (or the family room where the kitten ripped the wallpaper off, or the living room with the boxes of tools and uninstalled hardwood in it), then I don’t care if they come or not.
Oh hell yes. I’m not there yet but oh so close. So close.
You can’t find the Saran Wrap in Target either? You know I relate to every one and you’re a miracle for putting these out there and describing them so hilariously. FYI: Huff Post is insane not to have scooped you up yet!
Imma going to keep trying with the Huff. One day…..
I love your stuff. Could you consider adding G+ for options? Great truth here.
I am interested in G+. I don’t know much about it. How could I learn?
To add the G+ share button, access your dashboard and choose Setttings/Sharing.
Then in the Enabled services box drag G+ to the active box and Save below. That’s all you have to do to add a G+ button for people to use. I’m no G+ guru, but I’m learning how to use that social media.
I will do that tonight. Thanks for the tip!
PS: I forgot to mention that it won’t appear in posts already published. It will be on your future posts, however.
Gotcha! Thanks!
I think this is a lovely example of a human being. We have all developed excellent survival skills including the ones that you mentioned above.
Yes! Survival skills. And junk drawers!
You hit me square between the eyes with 3, 5 and 6. Ouch. I don’t lie to myself about 7 anymore but you had me rolling on the ground laughing with that one. Where can I get a chocolate enchilada?
I made them up — they are do good! It’s a tex mex specialty!
Oh, my, how I can relate to these – from the writing to the parenting to the twitching hand reaching for the iPhone.
I wonder about some lies I tell myself: am I telling this lie because I’ve grown too attached to someone else’s (e.g. society’s, that lady at nursery school pick-up’s, Oprah’s) version of what I should be? So what if I care what you think? So what if I feel like eating an entire peanut butter pie for dessert? Maybe being honest would free me from the guilt?
Then again, I’m not so sure.
I am with you. I am more interested in why I am lying than the plain fact that I am.
Don’t we all do this? This scientist loves the way you rocked “epidermis” in this post. Sorry it hurts though…I care!
Ohh I got me some science terms. Actually, I have three more. Stay tuned!!
So so funny, and so true. My version of the chocolate enchilada is the chocolate croissant. It gets no better than bread & chocolate. I have also on occasion had some good dark chocolate with a good baguette. What’s not to like?
You’re making me want a chocolate croissant in the worst way.
Guilty of all of them, but, unlike you, I’m not gonna stop lying.
Oh I won’t stop but I may try. That counts in my book!!
I promise I read you blog! Just usually weeks after you post because I’m insane enough to try to work two part-time jobs and raise kids. So by the time I read most of them you’ve probably moved on. Sorry!!!
1. I will control the clutter and get organized.
2. I will get up earlier tomorrow and not hit the snooze button a million times.
3. I’ll make lunches AND set the kid clothes out the night before.
4. I will forget my kids learned the phrase, “I’ll check the laundry basket for clean clothes.”
5. I won’t stress about what I can’t control.
6. I will cram fewer errands into “Mommy Day” with my daughter.
7. I can get across town in 10 minutes.
8. My kids will eat whatever I put in front of them and won’t subsist on Cheerios, PB&J, and mac & cheese.
9. I won’t get on the computer between after-school and the kids’ bedtime.
10. I won’t constantly think about what I need to do next.
Oh, I haven’t moved on that fast! I love your 7 and 10. Seriously, it’s a real struggle. All of them ring true. I can’t believe how busy you must be, dear! Take a load off!