Do U Lie?

The verdict is in -- I'm sick. Not that I didn't know that. But now the doctor has made it official. He says I have two infections -- one viral, one bacterial. How he knows that just by looking up my nostrils, I really don't know. Anyway, I'm sick, but I'm back at work. Very busy. Very miserable.

So how did I end up in this state? All these hours on the couch has given me a lot of time to think. And I think I've figured it out. I'm a big fat liar.

Last Friday, when I started to feel better, I told myself I was well enough to show up for the team run on Saturday morning. Saturday I told myself I was well enough to run four miles. And Sunday, when I started feeling sick again, I told myself I was fine, ignore it, keep going.

I was lying. And I'm pretty good at it. By now, I suppose I ought to be.

I spent much of my early life looking for ways to get out of going to school, to girl scout meetings, or to any organized social event. A lot of the time I didn't have to lie, because I would become so anxious in anticipation of the event that I would make myself sick. But some of the time, when the anxiety didn't manifest itself physically, I would -- sorry Mom -- I would lie.

But back then, I wasn't a good liar -- I felt too guilty and was too afraid that I'd be found out. So first I had to convince myself that my lie was the truth. And then, once I had myself convinced, I could try to convince others. Whether the others believed me or not, I can't say for sure, but I believed it. I spent years perfecting the art of lying to myself.

And it didn't stop when I was out on my own in the real world. I remember once asking my roommate to call my office where I worked as a receptionist and tell them that I couldn't come in because my doctor had ordered me to 24 hours of vocal rest. Apparently I'd called in with the flu so many times that I felt I had to come up with something -- more believable?!

Now I find myself in a job where I can come and go as I please as long as the job gets done, so there's no need for lying. What a relief.

Except now the problem is -- I can't trust myself. In fact, so aware am I of lying to myself that I am constantly suspicious.

During the week when I was sick, I questioned it constantly. How do I feel really? Am I just going easy on myself because, like when I was little, I just couldn't face going in? Was I just being lazy? Constant tests to see if I was really sick. How did I look? Are my glands swollen, or have I just put on a few pounds? Am I achey, or am I just stiff from not moving all week? The only sure test I had was the thermometer, and it consistently told me that I was, indeed, sick.

So I'd been telling the truth all week. I really was sick. How was I to know that I would start lying to myself just to get out of the house?

Maybe I'd been lying to myself during all the runs. Maybe I wasn't feeling great. Maybe I wasn't getting stronger and faster. Maybe I was just pushing myself too hard.

That's the problem with my relationship with me... Me just can't be trusted.