lies and mentality

I was talking to a pal of mine- a dude I really enjoy- about mental illness. He asked me if I ever hear voices that arent mine.  I told him that when I was in highschool I constantly heard people calling my name when no one was.

But I’ve been thinking about it more. The more I remember the more elaborate things were. I had entire conversations with my mother in her bedroom while she was at work. But I could swear she was there promising to pay for college even through grad school.  I’ve talked with my step mother at the dinner table while she was in the bathroom. Ive heard people call my name and go search for them and never find them. I saw small animals run by very often. I used to have horrific traumatizing nightmares every night.

But none of that happens now. I tried to think when those things started to go away- they started to diminish when I insisted that everyone call me meG instead of Meghan and eventually I would introduce myself as Lucy.

When I started lying to strangers all the other stuff stopped. Every lie I tell makes me feel more stable and comfortable with a person. I’ve almost started believing my lies.

my name is Meghan. It was never meG my mom didnt write the G capitol to ensure my individuality. My grandmother is from Montgomery Alabama- not Donegal Ireland. I DID have a severe speech impediment and inability to communitcate when I was little but it wasnt because of an Irish accent at age 4. I did go to several months of speech correction and linguistic rehab- but it wasnt because kids made fun of my irish accent.

I developed (accidentally) an irish lilt in my speech when I was 16. When I was  informed that no one knew who my real father was. I decided that he was special- that he could be anyone I wanted. I made him irish- and for several years I attached myself to this father that I had made up- I modeled him after famous irish men and mimiced everything they did. Eventually I started to talk like them.

The above paragraph is a lie. I chose an Irish accent because when I was  informed that no one knew who my real father was I realized that I could be anything. Irish was interesting and it was a very strong bloodline on my mother’s side. I decided to learn a very convincing Irish accent- even other irish people believe me.

I am at least 1/2 irish. I chose to believe my real father is irish.

My parents thought it was weird that I was forcing myself to speak that way so they sent me to a three week speech and articulation camp to learn a standard english dialect. Its what I naturally speak now. If any accent (southern north carolinian OR Irish) comes out I am instantly apologetic and ashamed.

Sometimes I speak with an Irish accent without thinking about it. It was so natural for such a long time.

I claim that other people taught me irish traditions. this is half true. My grandmother taught me A LOT of irish traditions even though she was born in alabama. the rest I taught myself so I could impress the father that I had made up. (that last sentence is a lie) 

The rest I taught myself to make my lies more believable.

These story lies come so natural to me that if im trying to tell the truth I have to be hyper aware. or add "I’m lying" to the end of everything

BUT I don’t know if I want to tell the truth. Ever since I started lying there are no voices, false memories, imaginary conversations, or nightmares.  Its like a medicine.

But then there is Mark- I love him. He loves me. But he has only heard the lies.  There are tidbits of truth sprinkled into all the lies. so he knows a lot of truth- and he knows the day to day truth. he knows who I am on a daily basis- at my core. He knows my political views and opinions and my religious leanings. All of these things that he knows are true. Especially that I love him.

I dont normally lie about things I’ve done wrong. I’m normally so ashamed of what I have done that I admit to every awful and sometimes unneccesarry detail. lies are normally the only thing I wont admit to. Mark knows about all my big sins- sometimes thats hard because he knows how awful I am. I can’t pretend to be better than I am.

This is probably too long. But at least I told the truth.

kiss the frog!