Day 9 of 100

I can’t lie. I took this photo a few days ago, but I went to dinner and a meeting with some AA friends and it went pretty late.

I can’t lie.

I mean I am capable of lying. I think there are few people who physically cannot lie, but I am not one of them.

In fact, I have practiced lying for most of my life. More so, my entire life was a lie. After all when you are living in addiction your honed survival mechanism is to lie. Especially to yourself.

When I got sober the first time, I did it without a program of recovery. I mean I read the 12 steps and picked the ones I liked, but I didn’t do the program.

So instead of doing a program, I set two rules for myself. One) I would always do what was right, even if it was detrimental to me, and Two) I would never lie. Well, I said I would always tell the truth, which eliminates all the shades that exist between truth and lie.

And boy did I dive into it. Ask me a question and I would give you an answer. I was brutal with the truth because that is what truthtellers do. It didn’t matter who I hurt it was always more important to tell the truth.

Once a friend asked if I thought a girl was interested in him, and I broke his heart with words convincing myself it was for his own good.

Until I broke the wrong heart and I saw that I was not being kind with my truth, I was becoming more evil as a truth teller than I had ever been as a liar. There wasn’t much radical about my candor, it was all sticks and stones. And I was proud of my honesty but ashamed of the pain I was inflicting.

So I stopped with the brutality. I began to inject empathy into the honesty. I married understanding with opinion. I understood that my observations were just that: mine and if I wanted to be helpful with the truth, I had to be about the other person.

So I still can’t lie and my truth? Well it is no longer a weapon. And of that, I am proud.