by P. Braithwaite
And that, my friends, is a hard pill to swallow.
As a result, this last month has been (and still is) about healing, and grieving and releasing the pain that I’ve absorbed through this betrayal. The hurt was so deep and complex I felt it necessary to stop communicating with this person. To continue any correspondence felt fundamentally unsafe, but now, as I reach new and more authentic levels of normalcy I have been thinking about what I want to tell his person if I ever speak to them again. Mostly, I’d want to warn them. I want to make them aware that, while the lies have made it impossible for us to maintain any semblance of a friendship, I still see the Godliness in this beautiful and loving soul. The lies, while VERY hurtful and ugly and disgusting, do not completely overshadow the person that I came to know and trust. I want to say I haven’t forgiven this person yet, but I will forgive this person ( and not because the VIP is that fly and amazing, but because I AM that fly and amazing).
I’d warn this person that The Liar that lives inside of them is only a small fraction of their identity. I’d tell them that The Liar is lying to everyone — including the good parts of themselves. I want to urge this person not to listen to The Liar. I’d clinch my fists and shout that listening to the The Liar will keep this person isolated, scared, small, and ultimately trapped in a cycle of lying and hiding. The Liar will ruin everything.
I was thinking about this and I was, admittedly, completely caught up in my own virtue when I heard my own inner voice ask me: What about your Liar? What does your Liar say to you?
This gave me pause because, I’m a lot of things, but I ain’t no liar. I pride myself on being a pretty honest person. HOWEVER, if I am to be completely honest, there is certainly a Liar that lives inside me, and I believe The Liar more often than I’d like to admit.
So what does The Liar tell me? He (The Liar is a 6th grade boy version of me) tells me:
* I’m ugly
* I’m not really that smart
* I haven’t read enough to be a writer (or a teacher)
* I don’t finish anything I start
* I should remain quiet
* If I open up, I will end up alone
* I’m unlovable
* I’m not enough
* If I live this writing life, I will end up broke and living with my parents. forever.
Verdict: My Liar is a real asshole. BUT, in an effort to live more compassionately, I have to wonder what I’m supposed to do with this voice in my head. If I ignore him…he’ll find new ways to deceive me, and if I believe him…he’ll destroy me.
So, what’s a girl to do?
Lately, as I recommit myself to realigning with who I was born to be, I envision all of my selves ( my funny self, my inner child, my procrastinator, my shy self, my sexy self, my depressed self, my rock-star self, my forgotten selves) being embraced by the self-critical mothering version of myself. I envision myself sending myself lots of love, and Big Momma self has arms wide enough for all my other crazy selves, and she is smiling and they are smiling and I am whole. [Now might be a good time to mention I’m a Gemini].
It’s really a good time, BUT, in this vision, The Liar is always outside of the circle with his arms folded. I am afraid to love The Liar… and I’m not sure what to do about that.
So help me out: What do you guys think? Do you have a Liar? What does he or she tell you, and is it safe and/or appropriate to love that part of yourself?