thank you for not abandoning me when i lied to you

I didn’t tell you the truth.

Yes, I should have done so. I shouldn’t have wavered or stumbled over my meaning. I knew I should have done better.

I should not have lied to people who mattered to me. I shouldn’t have lied to those who didn’t matter very much at all.

I should not have lied to protect another’s feelings. Mine, as it turns out, were worth protecting more. I failed myself when I did not stand up for me. When I caved to a lie I should never have said. I should not have lied when I was scared, insecure, or worried about how you would feel about me.

I believe generosity makes the world a better place.

“My only rule is don’t lie to me.” “Be honest and I’ll work with you on anything. Lie to me and I walk.” “I don’t mind cheating, I just mind the lying.”

I no longer want anything to do with that kind of hard line thinking, even when I believe you mean it (and I’ve met plenty that said they wanted honesty, yet rewarded those who were dishonest with them over those who were honest). But let’s say you mean it.

I don’t want to surround myself with that level of arrogance (and God knows I, and my friends, have plenty of that, but even we have some humility!) Some of us, perhaps, have never lied to anyone. Not even ourselves. I’ll admit I’ve not run into these people, but anything, as they say, is possible. I suppose all those rules work quite well for them.

I need you to have your standards, yes, or you won’t be strong enough for me. But I need you to have flexibility, too, and forgiveness. Because, in the long run, we all need that from each other– and when it comes your turn to mess up, I hope someone is kind to you.

Thank you for your kindness.

Thank God, you didn’t have these hard limits. When I screwed up, you saw me as a good person. You decided that everyone makes mistakes. You figured telling a lie does not ruin someone as a human being.

When you messed up and lied to me about one thing or another, I, likewise, forgave you. Because I saw the reason for the lie, and you showed me you were going to work on it. I knew it wouldn’t keep happening again and again, and one slip was not going to make me throw everything away.

“Everyone” says it’s easy to be honest.

Indeed, it is quite simple. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. It isn’t just that we’ve grown up in a society built on lies- and while we are getting better, we still have far to go– but that it can genuinely be hard to be open, honest, and trusting. And I expect that everyone should do a pretty good job of it– but I won’t tarnish a person from one slip up.

Let’s try to be better than we were before. Let’s stop patterns of lying, because it’s too easy to fall into a life where you can’t stop lying about anything. I think we can do that. Let’s make it a point of telling the truth, if for no other reason than we deserve that for ourselves.

I am one of the lucky ones who is finally in a place where I am privileged enough to be honest with whomever I please (for the most part.)

In some cases, I was protecting you from the truth (all “yous” in this piece are not referring to the same “you”). In some cases, I did not trust you with the truth. In some cases, I played with your feelings. In some cases, I was too overwhelmed to have proper care for your consideration.

I know I won’t resort to lying, anymore, because if I can’t speak the truth, I won’t say anything at all. I don’t need any more than I already have, and if it means a lie, I’d rather move on And I won’t be around people who want me to lie (I used to make this mistake.)

Of course, I’ll have to deceive polite society to a certain degree. I can’t avoid that entirely, without exposing myself or– at times– oversharing details that the general public doesn’t care about. But I won’t bother lying to anyone I care about, no, not professional relationship, familial, or anything. If I cannot tell the truth, I will not say anything at all. Or stay within bland conversation, “How is life?” “Oh, life is great!”

Stop fucking telling her to “Let the words fall out,” when saying what she wants to say means losing everything that matters to her.

Perhaps I am jaded, but I don’t believe in Sara Bareilles‘”Brave,” anymore. It used to annoy me, now it infuriates me. It’s often easy for those with privilege to be honest. It’s even easier for those with nothing to lose.

But the very most privileged among us can still face consequences, and I won’t judge or shame that. And what of those of us who haven’t even figured out what we want? Should we be pressed to tell a truth we don’t even know?

We learn and grow and find ways to be more honest, as we show a better way of living.

Is that not good enough? To slip up on occasion, but continue to do better? To mess up entirely, but recognize that we’ve done wrong and move forward? If I held every lie my loved ones had said about me, against them, I would lose some of my most cherished relationships. Because we don’t always mean what we say. And sometimes we have to forgive.

It’s something I’m eternally grateful to the kink community– for showing a more honest way of living. And, yes, our community is riddled with predators and abusers and I hate it, but, God, at least it’s better than the sugar coated society that also happens to be similarly inundated with the the worst of humanity.

Thank you for allowing me to be human and to be better than I was yesterday.

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