The lie, that I wish the truth could be

What are you thinking about? Everything and nothing. Mostly everything. Sometimes I dump my head out, that's what I call it, in an email to a friend before I go to bed. I think I'll dump it here. I am thinking about him, unfortunately. And whether to shut the phone off. Wondering whether I am going to be able to sleep. Worried about the busy two days of work ahead before my two weeks out of the country.

I forget sometimes that people I know read this. The point was to be able to be open and honest, but I do wonder sometimes what certain of you think of me. I wonder sometimes if ever I sensor myself. Am I really as honest as I want to be? Do I really say it like it is? I lost some friends when I decided to get sober - more than a few. And certain people judged me for it. I struggle always between telling the truth, and telling the lie that is what I wish the truth could be. Telling the lie that I think will make you like me, will make you want me, will make you want to be friends with me. Sticking my toe in the water of "relationships" has made me painfully aware, in the matter of a few weeks, just how much I wish the truth were something other than it is. For a brief 5 minutes, I might have actually felt like I wouldn't trade my story in for something better - like I don't still wish to be someone else.

But the truth is - I would trade in all those ruined holidays and birthdays, all the days my mother passed out by 5 pm, all the times she told me she hated me, all of the bad relationships I've had, the low self-esteem, the abusive relationship, the fear-based decision making, the anxiety, my so called "marriage," my fake relationship with my father, getting sober, surviving breast cancer, my success, my education, my strength, my independence, my resilience. I would trade these things in for another story, if I could. Because I feel like a fraud anyway.

I forget sometimes that my father's family, could, with just a click of a button, find out the truth about me by clicking on the link on my brother's blog. My father doesn't know that I'm an alcoholic or that I am sober - there are 70 some posts of information that he doesn't know. When I think about my father, sad is the first word that comes to mind. The thing that bothered me the most about going home for my 30th birthday, was not the fact that my dad completely forgot it, but the fact that he doesn't know me. Sitting across from him at breakfast was like sitting across from a stranger. I think he likes to tell himself that we are okay, that we are successful and happy and functional people because that is the only thing that makes it bearable. My father has to believe that we are okay because it would devastate him to think otherwise.

So I lie to my father because I don't want him to feel bad. I lie to most everyone else because I don't want to feel bad, or ashamed. People always say that we (AA people) lie when it is just as easy to tell the truth. Sometimes, it is easier to lie.