#500wordsaday: Liar, Liar...Pants on Fire (if I even ever wore pants, which I don't)

1) A time you lied
2) A time you were hurt
3) The last time you were happy for a week straight
4) Family
5) How you wish you started your day (and then why you aren’t doing that already)
6) Your most authentic moment
7) When you really loved yourself
8) When you were scared
9) Why you long for love
10) Something about you that you’re hoping people don’t notice   / Something about you that you’re hoping people do notice

500 Words a Day: A Time You Lied

I am feeling the true struggle of writer's block as I try to make sense of what to write about a time I lied...because I am clearly just so pure of heart.

No?

Okay that's not true. I can certainly think of times I've lied about things - especially as a rebellious, headstrong teenager self-medicating in Boones Farm and Apple Pucker (fucking, YUCK) while I ran around with boys who were older than me and looking for ways to feel me up while parked at the North Clackamas Aquatic Park (you know who you are).

But who writes a blog about the shit they lied to their parents about in high school? That seems like a bit of a cop out, since literally all teenagers are dirty rotten liars who cannot be trusted. I'd never get 500 words out of, I lied to my mom about drinking in high school.

Uh. So what.

I think there have been a few points in the last year where I've lot more to myself than to anyone else in particular, and I suppose that counts. It's often easier to convince yourself you feel a certain way, than to admit that you feel betrayed, bullied, belittled, or back stabbed (that alliteration was accidental, just to clarify). It can be easier to say I'm fine, and convince yourself to believe it, than to stop and consider your true feelings about dating someone who had another girlfriend the whole time he was with you, or to embrace the reality that someone who was your very best friend, who you then came to love, treated you like crap and then secretly got married after vowing to be single for eternity.

We lie to ourselves probably more frequently - and honestly, probably on a larger scale - than we lie to anyone else. I'm sure I am guilty of that self-preserving dishonesty. I think the biggest lie I ever tell myself, is that I don't care. Whenever I say, I don't give a fuck - okay, 95% of the time - I actually give at least one fuck. Probably a lot of fucks, in reality.

Several months ago, I abandoned the fucks I gave about one of my very best friends; let's call him Goose, so in the instance he stumbles on this post, he'll know it's intended for him. Because that's how I roll. Goose and I became fast and furious friends as soon as we met, talking for hours on end, all day every day, to the point of crazy-town. Like, looking back I wonder how we ever accomplished anything outside of a Facebook chat window for approximately 60 total days. As most male-female friendships do, this one took a romantic turn at some point, and progressed from friendly to physical, then physical to mushy-gushy, and then from there, came to an obliterating end.

For some reason, I convinced myself (liar, liar, pants on fire) that I could stay friends with him after he broke up with me. But not just that; I convinced myself that I didn't care (there is is again) that he broke up with me without reason, with no explanation, in a Facebook chat window, as though we were in 8th grade and he was uninviting me to a school dance. My inner dialogue did an awful lot of justifying his crappy behavior, a lot of defending his honor, which - looking back - was certainly unwarranted. Truth is, he acted callously, and even after facing reality in a more sober light over the next year, never apologized to me...his supposed "friend." Even when I straight up told him why I was upset, why I was hurt, he offered no apology. Instead he stopped speaking to me.

In my stubbornness, I said, well fine, I give no fucks. If you don't need me, I don't need you. If you can't open your mind to why I might still be hurting, fuck you then. I don't need to wait around for you to understand why it wasn't okay to abandon our relationship in a moment's notice, without ever sitting me down and explaining it. #nope.

I gave (and still give) almost every single fuck.

He was someone who truly got me, and genuinely embraced me; he understood why I was stubborn and hard-headed, sensed when I was exceptionally needy, and passionately connected the dots that put me together; for my great days and shitty ones, he was the first person I reached out to vulnerably, every damn time. As my friend, we talked about books and writing and people and life and goals and problems and booze and sex. And then as my boyfriend we talked about love and passion and life and running away and change and growth. And then as exes-who-were-trying-unsuccessfully-to-be-friends-while-still-sometimes-fucking we talked about sobriety and work and hopes and romance and relationships and sharing space. He understood every nook and cranny of who I am, and until I had to convince myself to stop giving a fuck, I was certain I would forever give all of the fucks.

The lie I tell myself: I give no fucks.
The truth: I still care a lot. About him, and about what he did.

I no longer care about him romantically, so don't get it twisted; we were clearly not cut out for each other, and that's fine. I'm glad he's happy, and I'm happily moving on, boyfriend-wise. But this person is someone I truly did love, on several levels, and it is a challenge to continue to try not to care, when I in fact care very much. I care how he's doing, what he's got going on, whether or not he's drinking, how his family is. I care about him, period. However, I also know we're never going to be friends if he cannot accept, understand, and apologize for the way he treated me when we broke up. Because it was childish and mean, and it bothered me a lot, and he knows on what levels.

We lie to ourselves in an effort for self-preservation, and in an attempt to move forward faster than we're really ready to. All of the I'm fine convincing allows us to put onto the back burner, what we should really be addressing full attack mode. But instead of allowing time to be upset, to be sad-mad-transparent-vulnerable, we push it all down as far as we can and claim to not care.

I don't care.

I don't care is how baggage is picked up.

I don't care is a lie.

I don't care will do nothing to help you, and will only weigh heavy on you later, when you least expect it. When you're starting to build something with someone new, and you find yourself doubting them, doubting yourself. When that someone else says to you, I think we have the same baggage.

It requires honesty. It requires internal honesty, more than anything. It requires that you admit, Goose, you hurt my feelings, and you made me feel irrelevant and unimportant and invisible, and when you didn't apologize for breaking my heart so ruthlessly, it made me feel like the dirt under your shoe. What someone else chooses to do with your honesty, is not relevant. It matters only what you do, how you process your own honesty.

Admitting that you give at least, like one half of a fuck, is probably the first step.

I'm done saying I'm fine.

I give 75% of one fuck today, actually.