I can’t imagine it was always that way, that I was always a liar. While I would assert that I value honesty, when I look at myself, I realize I am. A liar. So perhaps honesty is not a value I hold in any esteem.

My lies are not meant to be hurtful, nor are they even purposeful, but they are lies nevertheless. They are the lies of the people pleaser. Perhaps you are familiar. The people pleaser looks so good, nice, and thoughtful on the outside, but that is not the reality.

They are quick to run to the needs of another. Oh, and they believe they are good. They truly believe they are doing their best. Even, and I say this with a sinking stomach, that they are better, more righteous, thoughtful, and enlightened than others.

Perhaps you too were taught, that the way to goodness was to lose yourself. Well I did. I have. You easily can, as long as you aren’t averse to lying.

From a distance, they may be some of your favorite people.

They do just what the label implies, they seek to please those around them. To be of service. It somehow depletes the anxiety they feel as they are constantly questioning their goodness. If they let go of their needs, their desires, and their wants, then they are worthy.

Those lies they tell? They aren’t always “happy” to do something. Often, they don’t even want to do what they are asked, but this is how they have been conditioned. Their personalities seem to be specially prepared for chronic people-pleasing.

Our society, our culture, and our employers LOVE people pleasers. But not everyone succumbs to this conditioning. When they don’t they are looked down upon, seen as difficult, and even wicked. One thing they are not though is liars.

Not me, I am a liar.

I realize it has been so ingrained in me, I even lie to myself. If you asked me what I want to do or eat and there is not an option about something I am passionate about, well, I may not even know what it really is that I want.

I’ve lied to myself. “I don’t care.” Sometimes I don’t. But sometimes I do. Often I do care, but don’t realize that I care, because I have been conditioned not to care about myself, but only about others.

I have been so dishonest, beginning with myself, that I no longer know who I am.

I am a rule follower, certainly, because that suits me as a lying people pleaser. I’m a servant and as I serve I allow myself to feel superior because the alternative is too painful. The alternative is that I’m a pathetic self-hater.

So I race my hand like Katniss in the Hunger Games. “I volunteer.” I hold my hand. I say it loud for all to hear. I will sacrifice my life in the service of others–meaningless service even. It doesn’t really matter.

“I volunteer.”

Now, instead of judging myself, I can judge others, and I have. I do. I judge them for honoring their needs when I have not been able to. I judge them for being selfish or lazy. It’s easier that way because judging others helps me ignore my own tocixity.

I settle my inner demon telling me I’m never enough, for just a moment, believing I have done some good. It’s okay if I lied.

And then, I grow resentful as if I’m a master gardener. I carefully hide it away in safe places. Then I cultivate it. When it has grown to its full potential I unleash it.

I’m not a people pleaser when resentment rears its head.

That is when all my ugliness is unleashed. I hid it so carefully. Serve, serve, serve. Each moment I did it because I felt I should and not because I wanted to. I fertilized my resentment so it could grow stronger and ugly. Full of nasty thorns that I would either tear into myself or another unsuspecting soul. The thorns sliced cleanly through my protected bubble of resentment.

These eruptions are perhaps the only time I am not a liar, and it is ugly.

No wonder I lie. Would I want to be so hideous all the time, so defiant, so… difficult? No, because the feeling that I am helping others at the sacrifice of self feeds my addiction. It is just like heroin feeding the drug addict and alcohol staving off the pain of the drinker. If I just focus on others, I can forget myself. I can forget everything I don’t like about myself. I can forget my needs that may never be met.

It occurs automatically, like anger with some or depression with others. It is my reaction–to fix, to heal, to be the savior. Only I’m not.

I sit there and suffocate my needs while believing that I’m doing good. Sometimes it is. But the inauthenticity is toxic. Not just for me but for others in my life. “Sure, I’d love to do that,” as I cringe inside. “That would be great,” as I think about how great it actually is not.

I fear rejection so much, I don’t want to place that feeling on others. But isn’t rejection better than a relationship with a liar?

It’s time to get honest.

And I have to start with myself. What do I really want? I’m going to have to dig deep to tap into the feelings I’ve been tamping down, stepping on, and shoving away with lies because they might not be acceptable.

I’m going to have to be okay if my honesty hurts others, fractures relationships, or breaks what I’m desperately trying to hold together. That is hard, but those fractures and breaks are either meant to be or survival will continue regardless.

When every instinct screams to not make a splash, don’t cause waves, that is really tough. But the only path to honesty will be a hard one. Harder now that I have pretended for so long.

But… I justify. I was being nice, kind, thoughtful–everything everyone around me always told me that I should be. People liked it. Said thank you. Viewed me in a certain light.

But… it was wrong anyway. Lying is not kindness no matter how well I mask it. And it is masked well, so well I’m not sure where honesty lies or what it even looks like.

It’s time. I know that. There is only one path to authenticity and it is pushing aside the lies and finally being true to myself and truthful with others. “No, I don’t like that,” “No, I don’t want to do that. “Yes, this is who I am!”

But am I ready to no longer be a liar?