Honesty? Honestly.

Honesty: Refraining from lying, cheating, or stealing; a being truthful, trustworthy, or upright.


Kind of a slippery slope, this honesty thing. Most of us enter into our sobriety with a long history of dishonest behavior. We have lied, cheated, and stolen for so long that we're no longer sure what is fact and what is fiction. Our lies usually fall into one of two categories: (1) the lie to excuse bad behavior, as in: "I didn't throw up on your couch." or (2) the lie to make oneself look better, as in: "Sex with me is a transcendent spiritual experience."


Yet we don't want to slip into brutality. "Your cake tastes like crap," is not an appropriate comment to make at a dinner party. However, "That dress doesn't make you look fat" or "Ooh, you have such big muscles" are perfectly acceptable white lies, depending on whether you are a man or a woman, unless the guy has on the cocktail gown that doesn't quite fit.


This week I made a commitment to assist a work colleague in a presentation that he had organized in a city about three hours from where I live. At the last minute, I decided not to go. Some of my rationale was perfectly legitimate -- it was a long drive and the prospects for significant business were not strong -- and some was a little suspect -- I didn't want to work that hard, preferring to visit my favorite grungy coffee shop for an early morning double Americano.


My first impulse is to lie. My car broke down, I'm sick, another work obligation came up, that kind of stuff. I'm a people pleaser. I'm afraid that I'll upset someone. I'm afraid that they won't like me anymore. But I can't stand the guilt that inevitably surfaces when I don't tell the truth. So I told the truth. And, you know, it all worked out fine. Imagine that.


I only lie when it is absolutely necessary.