I’m a Liar, and It Will Follow Me Forever

I’m scared for my future

Photo of the author and his son, courtesy of the author

Earlier today, a NY Times article came out detailing and profiling my lifetime of fabrications. And there’s a lot to process.

The article was written over the period of four months, during which I candidly and freely discussed my lifelong struggle with telling the truth. And while I don’t regret doing this, I have never been more vulnerable.

Reading the article filled me with so much shame, remorse, and self-directed anger. So much time had been lost to concocting stories. I created elaborate tales of success and adventure, while the world passed me by — or rather I let it. See for me, lying has been a coping mechanism. My self-worth was completely attached to the stories — I never felt that I was enough without them. Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. This is where I am in my current perspective.

No longer able to hold my head high in public, I spend my days in my home, writing each time I have the urge to fabricate. It’s been a helpful substitute, but I’m not sure it’s exactly healthy either. I’ve been writing a lot. And while that’s kept me straight, it is also becoming all-consuming.

When I’m not writing, I’m working with people and organizations that don’t want my name associated with them. I get it. This is my life now, and it may…