Lies And The Liars Who Spread Them

Lies And The Liars Who Spread Them

"No, I didn't. Sorry to burst that bubble, bud."

I can't stand liars.

I know I'm preaching to the choir when I say that, considering we're all one the same page here. No one likes liars. Nobody has the patience or time to deal with people who cannot be honest. Throughout my almost 21 sober years on Earth, a solid 90% of the issues I've had to deal with revolve around lies and the liars who spread them.

I don't want to come off as holier than thou. I have made countless mistakes and some of them include lying. I'm not proud of that. However, this stemmed from the prospect of being in "trouble." As a kid, and really before I became a teenager, I couldn't handle "trouble." I'd lie to prevent getting in trouble and since I'm horrendously bad at lying I gave it up real quick. I was incredibly fortunate to have been raised in an atmosphere that encouraged truthfulness and honesty. When I was honest, I wasn't met with harshness but with fondness and compassion and I am so grateful for it. I know that too many were not as fortunate as I was.

So here we are, third year in college, nearly 21 years old, and I'm still dealing with liars.

You'd think that once you escalate to college level sociability that you'd wise up and keep your mouth shut when you have nothing good or worthwhile to say.

Someone at the college I attend, who I've had to formally talk to twice, has spread a rumor that I suffered from a stroke due to the way I look. The only consensus I can come to regarding why anyone would say that is that I either intimidated him or festered his insecurities. If I did, I'd like him to let me know.

But of course, I'm never going to find that out.

Lying is a result of cowardliness.

This gentleman's life is so uneventful that he took it upon himself to spread a rumor so vile to make it seem as if he was looking out for me since I was suffering from such a horrific medical trauma. But it's completely false. Needless to say, I probably wouldn't be able to type out something like this if what he said had to be true.

Call me thin-skinned and you may be right. I can take my fair share of punches, but this is just uncalled for. What's worse is that if there's one person going through something like this, in this case myself, than there is ten. If there's ten there's one hundred... and it keeps going.

I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. I also have some sympathy for those who spread these rumors, too, because there's obviously something lacking in their lives.

All I want is for people to pay it forward. Be nice. When you have nothing nice to say about someone just save your breath. Call me petty to hark on what's happened to me and again you may be very well right, but I'm using it as an example because falsehoods, lies, and rumors are a real problem for too many. We need to foster a community of truthfulness and honesty now more than ever. College, high school, life, is way too stressful to have to keep reminding people of the truth when they should know it from the get go.

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When It Comes To Anxiety, 'Fine' Is Never Really Fine

We've just got to live life, as is. There are way more colors of life than simply black and white.

“Darling, I’ve heard it all. You are not fine and don’t try to fake-smile your way out of this one. There’s something wrong and we’re going to get to the bottom of this! Whatever ‘this’ is.”

I realize how naïve I used to be, I used to believe that there was always a cause and effect to this world. That everything was a result of something else.

An ex of mine would completely shut down as we would hang out or even during simple conversation. I would ask the normal question of, “are you OK?” but their response of “yes” or “I am fine” would not reflect their behavior.

Granted, let’s face it the word “fine” is ambiguous. “Fine” can either mean, “I want to strangle my current annoyance until I personally can breathe again,” or it can simply just mean fine. Nonetheless, I used to believe that if there was not anything wrong with someone then that person would not act differently than their normal behavior.

This is not the case, as I did not recognize how wrong I was.

I can’t even remember what we were discussing, but quickly that conversation led to an argument. A one-sided argument that I wanted to win but I didn’t even have an opponent. What I mean by this is that as someone who, at the time had no understanding of anxiety, loudly voiced my frustrations to someone who didn’t even know why they were acting the way that they were.

There was no explanation or reason and as ignorant as I was, I just couldn’t comprehend the lack of one. I constantly asked, “well what’s wrong?” to someone who can feel the way they feel without explanation and warning no matter the stakes.

It took my ex breaking down right in front of me to get the picture.

After we broke up, I vowed to become the person who put themselves first, in regards to the fact that I did not know what love meant much less what it meant to love myself. I found that in order to love myself, I needed to get reacquainted with the person I am.

After years of living through several emotionally abusive relationships, I found myself in a similar situation to that of my ex. I couldn’t place what triggered my emotional unavailability during this current episode but I found that the walls were caving in and I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what to do.

I found out that I was having an anxiety attack.

As an actual broke college student, I cannot afford therapy nor do I want to. I don’t want to know because I tend to avoid confrontation. Even if it is with myself. I don’t particularly know my prognosis but I do know that I do have anxiety, I do know that there are days where I can wake up completely fine and other days where I cannot get out of bed. For no reason in particular. I was very involved in my community in high school now I loathe social gatherings and meeting new people.

I am not the same person I was — as humans, we’re constantly changing. We’re constantly rearranging and it would essentially be inhuman to remain the same.

Not every cause has a direct effect and not everything has a reason. We've just got to live life, as is. There are way more colors of life than simply black and white.

Cover Image Credit: Michelle Pham

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To Paranoia, The Monster That Drives My Anxiety, You Will Not Win

Do you not understand? You are not me.

You are the reason I get nervous. You cause my overthinking. You make me paranoid with the thought of you returning. Your judgment is the pressure that makes me impulsive.

Judge me. That's what you do best, isn't it?

Judge me for my flaws. For my mistakes. Judge me for the decisions I make, I promise you don’t agree with them. Judge me for not having my life together; because apparently, you do. Judge me for every time I decide to stay quiet.

You are not me. You pretend to be living in my head. I can’t express it enough, nor can I explain it in enough words. You are not me.

Judge me for asking a million questions, I'm hoping your answer is not the same as the past 24 times I’ve asked. Do you think I want this life? The one that causes excruciating pain which I’ve come to tolerate? To live a life without you is a luxury.

Some may call you paranoia, but I consider you a monster that stays with me with every choice I make.

You make me second guess the things I want most and give me reasons to hold back. You are the reason my new years' resolutions fail. The reason I change the answers on my exams from what I originally put to what you tell me I should put instead.

I'm trying to shake you, and I’ve tried it all. Medication, exercise, naps, essential oils, everything, and yet you never leave. I've had doctors tell me I should see a therapist so I can learn how to live without you breathing down my neck.

If I had the option, I would rather forget about you completely rather than suffer with the overthinking.

Hopefully, sometime soon I will find a way to forget you completely.

Cover Image Credit: Unsplash

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