We've all been there - those of us who've danced with addiction, that is. The lies. Oh, the glorious, ridiculous, mind-boggling lies we tell ourselves and others. I know I have. And as a counselor, I've seen some doozies. But why? Why do we spin these tangled webs? And what happens when we finally stop?
The Great Con (Our Minds):
Addiction is a master manipulator. It convinces us we're getting away with something, that we're smarter than everyone else. I mean, come on, who wouldn't believe these gems?
- "I don't have an addiction." (Sure, and I'm the Queen of England.)
- "I can stop anytime I want to." (Just you wait, I'll quit tomorrow. Or next week. Or never.)
- "It hasn't changed me at all." (You mean besides the constant lying, stealing, and ruining relationships?)
- "I'm not as bad as [insert name]." (The classic "addiction Olympics" - because bronze in self-destruction is still a loss.)
- "I only use it occasionally." (Yeah, like that one time... every day.)
- "I'm under a lot of stress — it's okay to kick back with this stuff and relax." (Because nothing says "relaxation" like a hangover and a crushed soul.)
But here's the kicker: we start believing our own BS. It's like method acting for idiots. We play the role of "totally not an addict" so long, we forget we're acting.
The Crash (When Reality Hits):
Sooner or later, the lies catch up. Maybe it's a DUI, a lost job, or your kids stopping you with a look of pure disappointment. For me, it was waking up in jail, wondering what I'd done the night before (again). That's when you realize you haven't been fooling anyone - except maybe yourself.
Getting Real (The Hard Part):
Stopping the lies is easy. Having the guts to see yourself clearly, to face the damage... that's hard. It means admitting you're vulnerable, that you need help. It sucks. But it's also your only real shot at freedom.
Getting real means facing the shame, the guilt, the crushing regret. It means feeling those uncomfortable emotions instead of numbing out. But here's the thing: you don't have to do it alone. Counseling, support groups, they're all about having a safe space to own your crap. To say out loud, "I messed up. I need help."
And it's not just about talking. Sometimes it's about creating - writing, art, music. Whatever helps you express the mess inside and start to untangle it.
My Take (From Both Sides Now):
As someone who's been in treatment and now works in it, I see the lies from both ends of the telescope. I look back on my own and cringe. I see my clients spinning the same tales and want to shake them (gently). But I get it. I really do. Because those lies, they offer a false sense of control when everything feels out of control.
The Shift (From Lies to Recovery):
Recovery isn't about perfection. It's about brutal honesty, with yourself first. It's about owning your crap, one painful truth at a time. And yeah, it's hard. But the freedom... oh man, the freedom from all those lies, that's something else.
So if you're stuck in the cycle of lying, just know this: you're not fooling anyone. Least of all yourself. And if you're ready to stop running the con... well, there's a whole lot of us who've been there, done that, and would be happy to show you the way out.
We've all been there - those of us who've danced with addiction, that is. The lies. Oh, the glorious, ridiculous, mind-boggling lies we tell ourselves and others. I know I have. And as a counselor, I've seen some doozies. But why? Why do we spin these tangled webs? And what happens when we finally stop?-Belle-
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