CNF: The Times I’ve Lied

I lied when I told my guy I wouldn’t buy any more plants. I knew that I would. That plants make me so happy when they are growing, when they are dying, when they are in my apartment. I lied when I said I would empty the porch and remove the plants that were dying and not replace them with more. I lied when I told him that it was just a phase, before it became a ‘fad’ for everyone else. In reality, I had always wanted them, it just made me nervous to kill yet another plant. Turns out, I was just lazy before and I didn’t admit to myself that I needed to study this subject like any other hobby or skill.

 

I lied to my mother on the phone the last time I talked to her. And the time before that. And the time before that. She didn’t ask me any questions, not really, but I lied all the same. I didn’t tell her how she hurt me, how she made me angry, how I forgave her, how I couldn’t forget, how I often spent time wishing she would treat me better. I lied because I didn’t want to start an argument. I lied because I was afraid to not have a mother anymore. I lied because a motherless world is a scary place and here, I’ve had two chances and they both were a flop and maybe I’m the problem, anyway. Turns out, a motherless world is less scary when a toxic relationship is gone.

 

I lied to the cashier at Joann’s when she asked me if I had coupons. I didn’t, though I said I did, and then I stood there pretending to pull them up on my phone while I was busily googling “Joann’s + Coupons” and hoping I could catch something on accident. I was told “Never go into Joann’s without a coupon” by some rando on Twitter and it saved me $30 last time. Well, nothing worked. Turns out, the coupons only work if you have the app downloaded. 

 

I lied to my guy when I told him that I was worried that I am not a good mother. I love my daughter, and give her as much light, love, and all the kisses I can every single day. I would protect her with everything that I am, with my life if I have to. I make sure she is fed and have sacrificed much to have her. Nearly my life. I lied because I am not as worried about being a good mother as I am at simply being a horrible and useless human being. Can I be both at the same time? Turns out, there are many layers to life and I am not my mother. 

 

I lied to my writing group on Twitter when I said I was working on something good. It’s all trash. Half the time I bang out 10,000 words in one sitting and stumble over the keys because the words flow from me like a luminescent river of god’s tears. The other half I sit clicking my fingertips on the keys, switching back and forth between social media accounts and my empty google docs, hoping that one day I’ll get rich from this gig so that I can provide for my family, so I can achieve my dreams, so I’m not completely wasting my life away. Turns out, most writers do this but that little fact doesn’t make me feel any better.

 

I lied to the insurance company when they asked me if I could pay the $280 to pay for my bill by July 27th. I said no. I do have the money. What they didn’t ask me is if I could “afford” to pay the $280 to pay for my bill by July 27th because honestly, no. As my guy is still waiting on his job to reopen, maybe not for months, and our savings are dwindling and death awaits us outside the doors, and there’s no telling when we’ll be making steady money again: I will continue to lie. I’d rather spend that money on food so we don’t starve, or rent so we aren’t evicted, or utilities so we aren’t in the dark, or hygiene products so we remain healthy, than to spend it on a car I can’t drive to places I can’t go. Turns out, gas is cheap when one tank lasts you over a month.

 

I lied when I told Naomi I was going to bed. Even though she can’t understand me with her baby ears, I try to be honest with her as much as I can. I wanted time to myself, in my own space, lying naked on the bed in spread eagle while watching shows I’ve already seen because I’m happiest in that comfort zone. When my guy went up to play his game, I told him and the baby that I was going to take a nap and I went and basked in some me time that wasn’t Mommy or Honey time. Turns out, it feels good to just lie on the bed and air dry after a long rejuvenating shower.

 

I lied anytime that I’ve ever told anyone that I’m a good listener. I’m not. I’m trying very hard to be and I spend time practicing listening while I’m supposed to be listening and what if they ask me a question and I’m not sure what they’ve said because I spent the entire time thinking of what I can say back. When people are talking, especially about themselves, there is usually a montague of times when I’ve said the wrong thing flying through my head and I begin to create a list of “hmmhmmm”s or “yes, I know you feel like that but what if”s that would suffice. Also, I’m guilty of being the person who thinks of what I’m going to say when you take a breath to let me speak and then when I do I never take a breath to let you speak. I wonder if it has something to do with continuously being told to be quiet as a kid, that nothing I ever had to say matters because I wasn’t an adult, or feeling like my voice was never heard and so I try to get every thought out that I can before the topic moves on and whew….a breath should be taken there. Turns out, therein lies the point. 

 

I lied when I told a writing friend group I’m in that I removed myself on accident. It wasn’t true. I left because they are amazing. They are doing big things and they are banging out words on laptops that turn into deals that become books you can hold in your hands. I lied because although I have some essays published I feel like I am nothing in comparison. That my writing is so far beneath theirs that when they ask for advice or a writing buddy I wonder ‘what in the hell could they learn from me’? I lied because sometimes I’m embarrassed in the glow of their light but I also wanted back so bad because I knew I just wanted to be a part of the crew even if I didn’t measure up. Even now, I write this wondering if any of them will take the time to read this and call me out for the phony that I am and kick me out for good because that’s the luck that I have. But…I have to be truthful about the times that I lied. Turns out, I might just be going somewhere with this lies thing.

 

I lied when I said the truth will set you free. Turns out, nothing sets you free more than revealing your lies.