With a murderer or thief, you know what you’ve got. You know what you’re dealing with, but with a liar, you never know what you’re dealing with.  In high school, part of SWS (School Within a School) was having community sharing days. We’d assemble in the auxiliary gym and hold hands to form a large circle, then we’d tumble into seated positions and wait. Anyone was able to take their turn and enter the circle to share their feelings, without response from the community. Josh Ackerman brought in a gas mask he’d purchased. He spoke about his fears, how he sleeps with the mask beside his bed, just in case. Gregg Sector entered the circle and paced when he spoke.  He paced more than he spoke, but what he said took up more room. “It fcuking sucks to be lied to by someone you trusted.” I later learned a close friend of his had pretended she had leukemia. She was a compulsive liar.

Oftentimes what we find so repellent in life is what we cannot stand about ourselves. I hate liars, but I’m not one. So there, it’s not about reflection.  I don’t lie, so I shouldn’t hate it when others do? No. I look inward and take blame. Maybe I hate liars because I’m an enabler. I don’t make it safe for them to communicate honestly with me, too busy punishing, or fighting the wrong fights.  Maybe I hate liars so much because I’m around them so often… because I create them.