Many of us have a hard time discerning when we someone is lying to us. I recently lost a friend because he chose to believe a lie rather than the truth. He was taken in because he’s a “nice guy”—done in by his sense of pity, and his trusting nature, and his choice of which “facts” to believe.
The biggest problem, though, seems to be with those we love. Why is it so hard to tell when they are lying to us? Are we too blinded by our love to see it? Or do we just want so much to believe the best of them that we ignore the signs staring us in the face?
For me, the most difficult person to read is my son. I know for a fact that he has looked me in the eyes and lied to me. He did it for months, hiding a deadly problem. As much as that hurts, I foolishly continue to WANT to believe that he won’t do it next time. He knows I love him, and that I want to believe he loves me, too—enough not to hurt me like that again. And yet, he does. Now, I can no longer know for certain when to believe him and when not to, and he takes advantage of that. He knows I want to believe him. He stands in that blind spot I have and says what he thinks will cause the least trouble. Sometimes he’s not very good at it; those times, I can tell.
Sometimes, though, I can’t tell for sure; I just know I have a bad feeling about his story. I’m torn between wanting to believe him because I love him, and knowing that as a mom, I have to do what’s best for him—even if it’s not his (or my) idea of fun—because that’s a part of love, too.
People are constantly saying “I’ll call you,” or “I’ll be there,” or “I’m not like that,” or “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” or “I care about you.” Most times, I’m skeptical. More often than not, I’m right to be. I know very few people that I can absolutely take at their word. But I always chose to believe that my husband, my son, and my friends would be among them.
No one gets a free pass anymore.