Truth Be Told, I Lie

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Not about a ton of things…only in one area of my life, really. That area is when I want to take care of myself above meeting others’ demands. 

A new committee formed in my congregation, for instance. For some reason, the committee members are convinced this committee is impotent without the presence of an ordained minister among them, as if an ordained minister brings some sort of magic they don’t have. The only time they can all meet on a regular basis is on Friday mornings. Fridays happen to be my only full days off to do as I please but I feel ashamed telling them this. So I tell them I have to attend professional workshops instead. These workshops, I say, are required to maintain a good standing within the denomination.  

I do this because I have this entrenched belief (drilled in me from our productivity-driven society), that rest isn’t important and self-care is a sign of indulgence and laziness.

I no longer buy into this myth.

Yet, why do I still lie? 

I think it’s because while I myself have come to know the immense value of rest and restoration, I don’t trust that others have that same value. 

So instead of telling the truth and through my truth, changing people’s minds and alleviating social pressures, I take the easy way out. I lie.

Funnily enough, you know what’s slowly helping me get out of this habit? It’s not my faith or morality. It’s writing. 

You may have heard this saying from author John Hodgman, that “specificity is the soul of narrative.” What he means is that stories are best and come most alive when there are details. The more specific, the better. How did your dress feel against your skin? What did the wind smell like? How heavy was the pause during the difficult conversation? 

In my writing, I’m frequently tempted to gloss over details or lie in order to make the story flow easier. It’ll just get too complicated if I mention that I met this person before the event happened, I think. I’d rather get to the punchline. 

When I become aware of my inclination to simplify the story, I try to resist. Then, I roll up my sleeves and make the extra effort to be true to what happened, despite the fact that it may open up a can of worms or expose a bunch of loose ends I have to tie up.

However, once I commit to telling the truth and go on that journey, the story becomes so much more rich and accessible. 

I’m sure the same would have happened if I told those congregants: Hey guys, thanks for inviting me. I won’t be able to join this new committee because Fridays are my only full days off to rest and take care of myself. 

Some people may have been disappointed by my response. Others may have cheered me on with a hearty, “you go girl!”

It doesn’t matter because it’s not my job to consider what others think of me in response to my truth. 

As I keep telling the truth, even when it’s deeply uncomfortable and I’d rather just take the easy way out and lie, I inspire others to do the same and develop their authentic voices.

People may not like me when I’m honest.

Truth is, I’d rather be disliked for who I am instead of liked for who I’m not.