truth
For much of my youth, I was a casual liar.
As a teenager grappling with immense personal trauma — from the loss of my sister, through my dad’s continual demands for perfection, to the breakdown of my family, to the abuse by a trusted teacher — I found myself spinning tales as a form of escape. This teacher exploited my vulnerability, which led me down a dark path of shame and deceit. I was afraid to be myself, and I hated myself for years — partly for lying, and partly out of shame.
Lies became a coping mechanism, a way to navigate a world that seemed too painful to engage with honestly. Each falsehood was a tiny fortress wall, a way to protect myself from judgment or further injury. But as with all fortresses, the walls eventually closed in. My escape became a prison.
breaking free
Shame haunted me until, years later, I found the strength to reveal the truth. This confession didn’t immediately change my habits of dishonesty, but it sparked a crucial transformation. Eventually, as other victims came forward, we used the media and the legal system to amplify our stories, which was profoundly cathartic. Within months, the need to lie diminished; I reclaimed my voice and my truth.
Eventually, other boys came forward, and we formed a sort of riot squad that used the full power of the press and the legal system to be heard and acknowledged. It was cathartic. I won’t say my lying vanished right away, but it was completely gone within about eight months. Somehow, having gotten the shame out of my system, I felt worthy to speak my truth again.
The liberation I experienced by breaking free from lies highlighted a deeper realization: the truth isn’t just a moral choice; it’s a practical one. As Sam Harris writes in his book Lying, even small lies create unnecessary burdens. Every lie is a weight on the mind, demanding memory, calculation, and anxiety. In contrast, the truth is liberating in its simplicity. When you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember your fabrications. You are free to be fully present in the moment.
challenging a deceptive culture
Our society rewards deception.
We live in a culture that often rewards deception, whether it’s sparing Uncle Ray’s feelings about his unloved Brussels sprouts, or embellishing our lives on social media to match an illusion of perfection. “Best foot forward” is the winning move in a popularity contest, even if it means filters, Photoshop, and carefully curated vignettes that highlight only the happy side of life.
Sam Harris argues that these “white lies” are not harmless. They undermine trust, complicate relationships, and diminish genuine connection. The moment we decide someone can’t handle the truth, we reduce their agency and limit the possibility of real understanding. The small deceits we justify for convenience or politeness create ripples of confusion and mistrust.
I reached a breaking point and chose transparency over pretense. This doesn’t mean I overshare, but I’ve learned to value clarity and simplicity. When something is private, I simply say, “pass,” respecting my boundaries without deceit. I just speak the truth, as clearly and simply as I can express it. What you see is largely what you get.
the rewards of authenticity
Dropping the guise was transformative. Those who favored superficiality drifted away, replaced by individuals who appreciate honesty. Now, I can express my doubts, voice my opinions, and confront my past abuse without the shadows of fear and shame. This honesty has not only mended old wounds but also fostered genuine relationships and made daily interactions more straightforward.
Suddenly, I have friends again. People listen to my opinion and act on it. They compliment me when I do well and feel comfortable correcting me when I do poorly. It isn’t at all the horrible ordeal that I imagined it would be. All of the angst I felt over my abuse had gotten conflated with a false undercurrent of bad karma and paranoia. In short, I am now completely open and honest with people, and nothing strange has happened.
Living truthfully has simplified my life in unexpected ways. I can decline invitations without guilt, discuss my limitations openly, and often find that plans adapt to accommodate my honest input. The practice of being frank has taught me to address underlying stresses and uncomfortable truths promptly, avoiding the complexities that come with deception.
truth as a foundation for life
Truth is more than a personal choice; it’s a foundation for meaningful living. In a world where misinformation, posturing, and “alternative facts” cloud our collective judgment, the commitment to truth becomes revolutionary. It cuts through noise and creates clarity. It builds resilience because facing reality — however difficult — prepares us for genuine growth.
Sam Harris’ Lying emphasizes that even the smallest lies undermine our integrity. They separate us from reality and from each other. When we lie, we create distance. When we tell the truth, we invite understanding. Living authentically means embracing this understanding, even when it’s uncomfortable. It means building trust, not just with others, but with ourselves.
In embracing total honesty, I’ve discovered a life where authenticity leads to both personal freedom and deeper connections. It’s a journey from darkness into a life filled with genuine interaction and peace. The weight of deception has lifted, replaced by the lightness of truth. I highly recommend it.