Am I Lying?
Survivors navigate a labyrinth of truths and falsehoods, where the line between survival and deceit blurs into a maze of self-preservation. In the aftermath of trauma, we grapple with the narrative of our experiences, weaving a tapestry of reality and illusion to navigate the wreckage left behind. But amidst the rubble of shattered innocence, a haunting question lingers: Am I lying?
The whispers of abusers, like venomous serpents, slither into the recesses of our minds, poisoning our perception of reality. "Your body enjoyed it," they hiss, planting seeds of doubt that sprout into twisted vines of self-deception. Did I start to believe their lies because buried beneath the pain, there was a fleeting whisper of pleasure? And in embracing this falsehood, did I deceive myself into believing I found solace in the arms of my tormentors?
With each blow, each bruise, and diminishing of my dignity, I erected walls of self-blame to shield myself from the unbearable truth. "I deserve this" became my mantra, a song of self-condemnation that echoed through the corridors of my crumbled soul. Was I lying to myself, drowning in a sea of self-loathing to survive the storm raging within?
The silence becomes a suffocating shroud, choking the truth in its grasp as I bury my pain beneath layers of secrecy. "Don't tell anyone," they warned, shackling me with chains of fear that bound my tongue. Was I lying when I masked my agony behind a facade of normalcy, feigning indifference to the festering wounds that gnawed at my sanity?
In the shadows of my anguish, I wove a tangled web of signs and signals, desperately hoping that someone would decipher the silent screams etched upon my skin. Yet, in the deafening silence of my suffering, did I deceive myself into believing that my cries for help would forever fall on deaf ears?
Photo by Sam Moghadam Khamseh on Unsplash
Photo by Sam Moghadam Khamseh on Unsplash
Some say lying is a shield, a cloak of invisibility that offers sanctuary amidst the storm. But beneath its veneer lies a Pandora's box of consequences, where the price of survival exacts a toll on the fragile fabric of our psyche. For every lie whispered in the darkness, a piece of our truth withers away, leaving behind a hollow shell of the selves we once knew.
Adults taught me as a child that honesty was sacrosanct, a beacon of virtue guiding me through the tumultuous seas of life. Yet, in a world where truth is scarce, I learned to navigate the murky waters of deception with practiced ease. When does the line blur between the white lies we tell to spare others, and the self-deceptions we cling to in the darkness?
In the hardship of survival, I fashioned a mask of seduction, a weapon of manipulation wielded with surgical precision to navigate the treacherous terrain of exploitation. Was I lying to myself, convincing my fractured soul that I could wrestle control from the hands of my oppressors? In the dance of power and submission, did I deceive myself into believing that I held the strings of fate in my trembling hands?
The truth becomes a double-edged sword, cutting through the lies we weave with ruthless precision. Yet, in the shadows of our shame, we cling to the shards of our shattered illusions, fearing the blinding light of truth that threatens to expose our deepest secrets. What is the difference between lying and surviving when the two become indistinguishable in the web of trauma?
In the cauldron of our pain, we search for redemption amidst the wreckage of our true selves, grappling with the haunting question that echoes through the chambers of our cracked souls: Am I lying?
Did I deceive myself into believing that my truth was too monstrous to be believed, that the words I dared to speak would fall upon deaf ears, drowned out by the cacophony of disbelief? In the suffocating embrace of silence, did I fabricate a cloak of invisibility, shielding myself from the piercing gaze of judgment that awaited me?
The condemnation echoes reverberate through the hallowed halls of my childhood sanctuary, where the sanctity of faith became entangled with the tendrils of shame. "God hates sinners," they preached, casting me adrift in a sea of guilt and self-loathing. Did I lie to myself, believing that my worth was measured by the sins I bore, that redemption was a distant dream for a soul as tarnished as mine?
Photo by Tim Hüfner on Unsplash
Photo by Tim Hüfner on Unsplash
In the eyes of the divine, did I deceive myself into believing that I was irredeemable, forsaken by a God whose love was reserved for the pure of heart? In the cathedral of my shattered faith, did I construct an altar of self-flagellation, offering up my pain as penance for sins, real and imagined?
The lies we tell ourselves become the bars of our self-imposed prison, locking us away from the light of truth that waits beyond the walls of our despair. Yet, in the depths of our darkness, there flickers a glimmer of hope, a beacon of redemption that beckons us to break free from the chains that bind us.
Amidst the wreckage of our split selves, we confront the ghosts of our past, grappling with the haunting question that lingers in the silence: Am I lying?
In the complexity of survival, where truth and falsehood intertwine, the line between honesty and deception blurs into shades of gray. We are but fragile beings, navigating the seas of trauma with trembling hands. In the crucible of our pain, we cling to the threads of our lies, weaving a tapestry of resilience amidst the carnage of our past.
Yet, amidst the chaos, there lies a glimmer of hope—a whisper of redemption that echoes through the chambers of our damaged hearts. For in the depths of our despair, we discover the power of our resilience, the strength to break the chains of silence that bind us.
The path to healing begins with the courage to confront the lies we tell ourselves and the resilience to embrace the truth that sets us free. In the journey of survival, may we find solace in the knowledge that amidst the aftermath of our abuse, we are not defined by the lies we tell but by the courage to reclaim our truth.
About the Author:
John-Michael Lander is a Survivor, Advocate & Public Speaker
He is also the founder of An Athlete's Silence: www.anathletessilence.com
Published by SurvivorSpace, an initiative of Zero Abuse Project
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