Sweet Little Lies

I often think that the hardest part about being honest with other people is learning to be honest with myself. 

The lies I tell myself every day start to mount until I have trouble remembering what is true and what is made up.

Not big stuff.  I'm not living some secret life as a CIA agent, and I don't have another husband or family on the side.  No big hidden debt or gambling addiction.  Nothing big.  Just lots of little "untruths".

Here's a brush of honesty for you: 
If I let myself think about my mom for even 30 seconds, I will start to cry.  I tell myself every time that this starts to happen that "Everything is FINE, and she is happy and well, and grieving is a process that never ends, and get back to work/happiness/calm/hubs/church, etc."  But I even come up with more elaborate lies to HIDE the fact that I'm about to have a melt down.

Example:  Walking into JB's hospital room full of excitement to see her and meet her new baby, then being frozen in a track of grief as I realize that her mom and dad and brother are there meeting their new grandbaby/nephew.  A sharp pain of sadness that even if I do ever have a baby, my mom and dad will never meet him or her.  They will never come to the hospital to bring us dinner and presents.  They will never take photos to show their co-workers and friends.  And I must have looked ill, because everyone was suddenly worried about me.  And I made up some story about some really long hard day at work and how I was just exhausted and should probably go home so I don't rain on their parade....

Liar, liar.  But really, what was I supposed to do?? Tell the truth?  But later when JB asked me the next day how things had gone at work, I had to try to remember what sort of weird lie I had told her so that I didn't have to tell her that seeing her parents at the hospital made me want to throw up with grief.

Here's another one:
I have dreams about something terrible happening to AugDog (stolen, hit by a car, dies from a seizure).  At first I thought they were nightmares, but today I had the terrible thought that maybe they are wishes.  Sometimes the thought of him dying (at all, of natural causes, several years from now) is too much.  It feels like a bad idea to have taken on this other little life that I KNOW will only be in my life for 5-10 years TOPS.  I don't mind the work of caring for him.  I love him a ridiculous amount and do believe that he is in our lives for a reason, as a gift.  But I will be crushed when eventually he does live out his life on earth.  Maybe those dreams say more about my ambivalence about getting any closer, loving him any more, having him long enough to have him really be part of my family.  My family, that will all eventually die.

Morbid!  Morbid, I know.  But recovering pessimist or no, fear of death and losing the ones that I love is still tightly coiled around my heart.  The Lord has healed a lot of it already, and I don't lie awake at night fearing that Hubs is going to die any second now.  Most nights. 

Here's a happier little lie I keep telling myself and other people:
I'm not sure if we ever want to have kids. 

TRUTH: Does it count as a lie if the truth changes every other day?

And another:
I really want to get healthy and eat better for myself and the planet.
TRUTH:  I LOVE pizza and cookies and wine.  I do not like buckwheat groats or naturally dried seaweed or the macrobiotic plate at any restaraunt.  I miss meat sometimes.  I do, also, miss running.  But not enough to do it very often.

As I re-read this, I have realized that technically none of these would really count as "lies".  More like "ambivalence". 

But there is no song that goes "Tell me ambivalences, tell me sweet little ambivalences..."