How I Stopped Being a Compulsive Liar

Today I want to talk with you about honesty and share with you a funny (or is it sad? I can never tell) story about honesty from when I was twelve years old… and then another one from just last week at a campfire with a German health coach who has yet to quit smoking and drinking.

Are you ready for this (blog-style) amusing and hopefully inspiring read?

Brief backstory in case you’re new here:

My mom is a recovering addict today. But when I was growing up, she was an active one. And there are a lot of behaviors that come along with that, one of them being lying. LOTS of lying. Now, this post isn’t about trash-talking my mom. I love her to pieces and we’re close and that front is all good, k? She’s years into her recovery and I am soooo proud! BUT as a kid, we tend to take on the traits of our parents, right? That’s key to the story, if you like to understand how and why people think the way that they do- which most of my readers do!

At twelve years old, I was a compulsive liar.

I kid you not, I would lie about EVERYTHING. And I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I didn’t plan to, I didn’t mean to. I was a “good kid.” I did my homework and my chores, got straight A’s, loved school. Played the flute and practiced for hours every night. I was kind. I sat with the kids who got bullied, I stood up to people who were jerks to others on the playground. I paid attention in class, took care of my younger siblings the best I could, blah blah blah.

But when I was asked a question… or just excited to talk about something? I’d make up these stories! I’d embellish the truth, or make up things that never even happened! We’re talking the silliest things- like one time, I met Hillary Duff at the gas station. (In tinypodunktown, Idaho! HAHAHAHA. Ohhhh little kid me.)

And of course I stayed up ALLLLLLLL night studying for that spelling test, you know. And I ran away for three whole days one time. I am a distant relative to the Queen of England herself! (Not, not and hahahaha oh my gosh.) I didn’t lie about serious stuff, but I’d say things that weren’t true- and the type of untruth would change with my audience- and then I distinctly remember feeling overwhelmed with trying to remember which circle heard which story. It was exhausting, I tell you.

I’m just cracking up remembering this. It makes me think of how important it feels to be a child. Kids are little sponges, but they’re clever too. They don’t just absorb everything, they absorb it and then they go out and apply it- and the really awesome ones (ahem) play with what they’ve learned- they experiment and make it unique to them and create their own reality around their favorite variations of the lessons.

But one day, I caught my mom in a lie… and I was so hurt! She didn’t need to lie to me about the silly thing- some excuse for why she was late and I had to babysit a lot longer than we agreed on. She was my mom, why didn’t she just tell me the truth? Or nothing at all, really. It would have been better than a lie.

And then it clicked. Nothing at all would have been better than a lie.

That thought hit me SO hard!

I resolved to stop telling lies.

It was a lot harder than I expected! I didn’t want to go back and tell the truths, and face shame and mistrust. But the lies kept slipping out. I had an elastic band on my wrist I’d snap every time I lied. I wrote “I won’t tell lies” over and over and over in my notebook every single day (This was totally before that part of the Harry Potter series was out too! hahaha). I pinched myself every time I caught myself in a lie.

But man! That habit is a tough one to kick!!! Especially when the lies feel so harmless. I was just telling stories was how I’d justified it to myself all the time I was doing it. It was like that movie Big Fish, you know? Where they tell all these wild stories and it’s special and sweet and just his gift.

But really… I wasn’t just telling stories, and I knew it. I was filling up my young little heart with the same toxicity I was surrounded by, and I was really committed to ending that pattern! I didn’t want to be like that version of my mom. I wanted to grow up to be an honest woman. I wanted to be trustworthy. And I wanted to be the kind of person who would say nothing rather than utter a stupid lie.

So… I got real humble for a 12-year-old.

I started telling the truth AFTER the lie slipped out of my mouth. And OH MAN. You only have to do that a couple times before you get real good at catching yourself! I did NOT want to do it again! hahaha

If I walked away from a conversation realizing, dang it, I’d told a little white lie again- I marched right back and told the truth and apologized sheepishly for lying. I did this with my teachers- even the principal!- with my friends- even the popular girls who seemed to have everything and I didn’t want to be talked badly about by- even my parents and my step-mom who I wanted to desperately never to let down at the time.

Every time I caught myself telling a lie, I went right back and made it right with the truth.

It didn’t take very long for me to notice a change. I felt lighter, I was happier. And actually, most people were really kind about my telling the truth. We’d laugh about the silliness of the harmless lie, and I noticed their eyes kinda sparkled at me in a new way after that. It made me feel special, and it made my heart feel so bright and safe and happy. That was unexpected- and encouraging.

Within a couple weeks, I wasn’t a liar anymore.

I was the most vulnerable, honest little 12-year-old I knew.

I remember feeling so much lighter! And even when big things came up- mistakes I didn’t want to admit, not because the mistake hurt anything, but because I was proud. I was a lil people-pleaser. I wanted to make people proud of me, not let my miscalculations be broadcast. But then I’d remember the tightness and the weight of the lies I carried- and oooooh how much I hated going back and admitting I’d lied! And I’d once again consciously choose to tell the truth.

And that is how I became an honest woman.

Thank you, 12-year-old Me.

Ya done good.

Anyway, all this to say, when I met this health coach who smokes and drinks- I immediately liked him.

He was funny- and he was honest. And I saw a kindred soul instantly. Despite the beer in his hand (usually I run the other way from folks with beers in their hands. Side effect of childhood trauma? Or just some 24-year-old wisdom? I’ll let you decide lol), we became instant friends and wound up chatting over a campfire after he braved a hike through the dunes with my little dogs.

Somewhere in the conversation as I was telling him about my businesses and my writing and my passions- and giving him pointers along the way as he stumbled with his new business into the world of online coaching (a world I know so well- and needing the exact help I offer with my other business), he laughed and said without much thought- these words that had me literally burst into tears with pride and joy and gratitude for myself.

“You are so beautifully honest.”

It was one of those moments where the stars just freakin’ aligned and I could connect the dots from so many seemingly random moments in my life- the fabric came together and finally made sense. (It was a “woah… this is my childhood dream coming true” kinda moment, y’know?)

That stuff… it’s just epic. There’s no other way to put it.

And that’s the story of how I stopped being a compulsive liar

… and the day it hit me that I’d reached my goal of growing up to be an honest woman.

The end.

Originally published to my blog at Lilacs in Paradise.