The lies we tell ourselves

1/22/08

Lately, I’ve been thinking that my sanity literally hinges on the lie that my mind subconsciously maintains between my self-perception and reality. Like my daily refusal to weigh myself in the morning and my self-evaluation as I walk out of the shower and look at myself in the mirror. You’re not that fat, Nate. Look you can still see some definition. Look at that gun show. Of course, this self examination is always more convincing with a well fogged mirror and my contacts conveniently in a case with solution. Blurry, hazy images always leave much for the imagination to define.

Never mind that my jeans are a little snug. You just left them in the dryer too long and they shrank a little. Or that with certain tee shirt, there are bulges in areas that weren’t quite as bulgey before. These damn European cuts. Today’s XL’s are yesterday’s mediums. Yes, these are the little lies that I tell myself to keep myself sane.

These lies translate to work as well. I lie to my employer daily to seem more productive than I actually am. I’m sure he lies to me in that he acts like he knows exactly what he’s doing and that everything is completely fine even with this economy headed down a one way road for a messy shit can.

Now the question that must be asked is, would we want to live in a world without these lies?

The reason I’ve been thinking about this is the one relationship in my life that I know is completely based upon a lie. My relationship with my parents.

Now I pause for a second for those who are completely shocked by this revelation. Appalled by it. But to these fine, upstanding folk, I simply ask the question, if you’re parents knew everything that you did on a daily basis, do you think your relationship would change?

Mine certainly would. Who can blame them? Your parents, if they love you and typically, they do, have this best case scenario view of you, untainted by your failures, your flaws, or by the fact that you grew up and you are your own sentient, self aware being now. They view you as these beautiful, in shape, successful individuals.

And in reality you are an unattractive, overweight, overworked person that is still scrambling to figure out if the dreams you had once can be reality or if this hell-based nine to five desk job is the best that life can offer you.

And yet we still maintain this lie. We maintain this lie with more lies, blanket statements, avoidance, old pictures, gym memberships, smiles and I love you’s said in half hearted geniunism and such.

Oh. And these lies are much easier to maintain over the phone. Calls once a week. More than that and this act that we put on strains a little.

My point is I enjoy that my parents have a perfect vision of me that I will never nor want to achieve. It’s endearing. It shows that they love me. But in order to maintain this vision of their successful baby child, they must not pursue the truth of the matter. Don’t be a doubting Thomas; searching for evidence for circumstances that might or might not be possible. We’ve lived with this lie so long; and just as I have accepted the fact that my parents are not my god-like figures that I once perceived them as, and I acknowledge that lie that I once told myself, I venerate that. I don’t try to destroy it.

Thus, in conclusion, this is the reason that I do not enjoy having my mother stay at my residence for a month at a time. The lies we live cannot exist in the sun and the air of reality and must be fostered in the dark, damp and warm places like our minds and our hearts.