Recently, I discovered that a friend had been outright lying to my face for the past month about a certain aspect of her life. When evidence arose that this might be the case, I didn’t believe it at first; slowly, though, suspicion crept its way into my brain and I couldn’t help but watch more carefully. Lo and behold, several days later, that hunch was confirmed.
I always want to believe the best of people, and I try to give them the benefit of the doubt. And if you wrong me, I forgive quickly, mostly because I’m just too lazy to stay angry for too long (it’s a lot of effort!).
But friendship is a two-way street — you typically want to give as much as you receive.
It’s one thing to stay a closed book until someone specifically inquires — I think many of us are like that because we perceive how much someone cares through active investment, like questions and probing. But to outright lie is something that sticks and takes away from the trust between two people.
It’s hard to separate objective offense and plain pettiness when it comes to an incident such as this, but truth and confession in a friendship are deeply valuable because there are only so many ways one can truly illustrate friendship. Lying takes away from the value of everything else one might have said before. Even if I think I can understand why you lied, if I’ve shown you something I wouldn’t show just anyone, then of course, naturally, I will be upset.
To my friend: I know you’re lying to hide it, to keep it from spreading. But I’ve come to realize, through experience at a small school where it seems like everyone knows everyone’s business, that personally, I don’t care very much long-term if many people know certain things about my personal life. Yes, it’s absolutely surreal, but I think I’ve become a person who just isn’t affected by what other people know about me. At one point, it might have pressured me to act a certain way, or to try and hide more things, all to try and diffuse judgment. I used to care so much about the fact that some people seemed to know more about what was going on with my private life than I did.
I don’t anymore because there’s no way they know what I’m thinking, or can predict what I’ll do next. What happens with me ultimately lies with me, and of course, it’s up to every single individual how he/she allows external perception to affect his/her life. It’s up to you how you want to deal with your personal life. Keep it a secret however you want. No one can tell you what to do. But honestly, the easiest way to deal with it, and in my opinion, the least stressful way to approach anything that might become exposed to the rest of whatever community you’re a part of, is to just make it the least stressful. Who cares if people know? It’s not up to them.
If you care as much as I once did about how people saw whatever I was doing, they get a say in my actions and results. When that paranoia and obsession goes away, so does their stake in what I do. It becomes up to me.
Maybe this is over simplification. Maybe I’m trying to find a reason for my friend not to lie to me. I mean, I want her to trust me. I want her to feel like she doesn’t have to be afraid to share private details of her life, and trust that the consequences won’t be dire.
But what’s so wrong about wanting that, and trying to find a solution so she can confide in me with ease? In the end, I think everyone would benefit.
Think about this: Every time you lie to a friend and he/she believes you, how exactly do you feel? Are you triumphant that your lies are succeeding? Or do you feel bad that you're taking advantage of someone's trust in you? Is it worth that to hide your life? You’re entitled to your secrets, but friendship is what you make of it. You should get only as much as you give.
