The Frustrations of an Honest Liar

I am an exceptionally good liar. Which is actually why I don’t lie, because it kind of creeps me out how much I excel at it (except to my wife-I can not lie to her without laughing, for some reason). I don’t like how it makes me feel to lie. And I’ll often sit and think something through when I’m talking to someone, trying to figure out if I am in any way lying to myself about my feelings. “Do I mean this, or is this what I am expected to say so I am saying it?” It makes me dig a little deeper in my mind to get at the full truth of what I am trying to convey.

I am also insanely focused. To a fault, I would argue. When I was a kid, I would be sitting there watching tv, my mom would come home, talk to me, walk in front of me and come back into the room 10 minutes later, but I would have no idea she had come home. Nowadays, if I am knitting, or engrossed in a book, I have an extremely difficult time pulling myself out of my tunnel vision to notice anything whatsoever happening around me. I thought that meant I was always a little bit of an asshole. That I ignored what I didn’t deem important at that moment in time. However, now that I’m older I’m trying to dissect what it is about me that does that. And I think I’ve figured it out. When I am focused on something, it’s almost as if my vision dims and nothing else exists in the world for me. Whatever has my attention right then, is all there is for me.

I also do this when I am trying to figure something out. It could be a puzzle, or a computer problem, a knitting mistake, etc. If something happens (anything really) that I didn’t expect to happen, I feel an unstoppable force making me pull apart all the little causes and effects that led to it happening. When I’m knitting is a good example. I get frustrated when I screw up and will not rest until I fix it to my satisfaction, and determine what it is I did to make that mistake. My wife doesn’t understand why I put myself through this, I’m sure. But there is such an absolute thrill that I feel when I come out on the other side of that frustration. When I can say “that was a mistake/problem, and it almost made me throw everything out the window and burn the house down, but I figured it out, dammit. ”

Sometimes this comes back to bite me in the ass. Let’s say someone tells me ‘X’ happened, but I would expect ‘Y’ to happen. This person might think “You’re obviously not believing me if you’re trying to figure out why ‘X’ happened, instead of just accepting the fact that it did.” I promise that’s not the case at all. What I am trying to understand is what led me to believe that it was X instead of Y? What is the knowledge I was basing this assumption on and where are the faults so that I can reconstruct it? And my mind will not rest until I have figured it out. When I seem frustrated, it is only a frustration directed at myself for not having figured it out yet. And I think that’s ok. Unless it isn’t, in which case I probably am a little bit of an asshole.

So there’s a little snippet into the insanity that is my brain. You’re welcome.

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The Frustrations of an Honest Liar

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