I am the worst liar in the world. I can’t do it. I’ve tried. Even in my heathen days of shoplifting food to feed my out of control eating disorder I couldn’t afford- I’d shoplift and engage in dishonest behaviors (not a proud thing to admit); but if asked about them directly, I couldn’t lie. At least not well. I could try to omit information with the best of them (kinda); but ask the right question or give the right knowing look, I’ll spill the beans faster than a newly trained barista at Starbucks.

I apparently even think rather than concealing embarrassing, cringe worthy truths about myself, blogging about them for the whole world to read is a better alternative. Well, not the whole world. Just the 170ish followers I have, and maybe a few other eye balls that happen to land on my blog. But still. Lying and deception is not my thing.

I find it interesting then, that someone like me, with a palpable allergy to lying and dishonesty, found herself in love with someone like my husband. Someone so far on the other side of the honesty spectrum I question how our paths ever crossed.

My husband showed me who he was very early on, but something inside me didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t convince myself someone could really be that cunning. That manipulative. That sneaky, slimy and convincing.

I still struggle with it.

Despite the many years of proven lies, my heart still wants to believe there is a shred of honesty in this man. My soul aches for him to find a relationship with reality and to learn how to be a truthful human being.

He’s not.

I’ve wasted years trying to convince myself and others that he wasn’t a pathological liar. I’ve made excuses, justified the deception, believed he was genuine, and fallen prey to his manipulative tears. I’ve been played.

To the rest of the world, our unequal yolking was very clear from day one. Everyone else was able to see we didn’t fit, yet I continued trying to shove a square peg into a round hole. I’ve even tried to coax myself into believing the square when he says, “I’ll shave my corners for you. You’re the shape I want to be.” I’ve learned that the only thing we really have in common, is that we’ve both been lying to me.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave…when first we practice to deceive. ~Walter Scott

I don’t know how to operate with someone who doesn’t live in the same version of the world I do. I can’t wrap my mind around someone who lives their own reality. Someone who is so skilled at thwarting the truth that even he believes his self created fiction. Communicating with someone like that is a voluntary warped tour. A trip down a mangled rabbit hole with no clear way out.

The liar’s punishment is, not in the least that he is not believed, but that he cannot believe anyone else. ~George Bernard Shaw

For 4 1/2 years, I genuinely loved a man who knows not what genuine love looks like. I gave my heart to a man who seems to have lost his somewhere along the way. It’s devastating to love a person who’s soul has been caged. I wanted to be the one to release that ensnared soul. Turns out, I was the one who got trapped.

Loving such a skilled deceiver eventually made it difficult for me to decipher any truth. I questioned everything, not the least of which was myself. I began to believe the lies spewed from his mouth, not only about his behavior, but of my own. It made me doubt my very soul. I questioned my character, my worth, and my sanity. Loving a liar is so pervasive, affecting every area of a person’s life. I went into our relationship quite broken and weak, hoping I’d find strength from another lost soul.

That hope and strength has become a reality, but the journey through it looked nothing like I imagined.

I dreamed we’d heal each other. We’d set each other free and walk out of the cages we lived in together. United. Redeemed. Whole. The problem is, liars simply cannot live united with someone else. At least not someone else who lives in reality. Someone bound to deceit is unable to offer himself wholly to another person because he knows not who he is. The holes in his soul cannot be filled by another person. They can only be filled with truth. But much like I have an allergy to deception and dishonesty, my husband has a clear and present allergy to sincerity and candor.

Light and darkness cannot dwell in the same place.

Trying to fill someone else’s holes with my love, only to be given lies to fill mine left me empty. Though it still hurts to watch a man I loved and gave my all to be so consumed with deception, I’m learning to pull myself away and untangle the web I was caught in. Though the pain of placing my heart inside another man’s chest as though he wanted it there has been shattering, it has been a gift.

When you live still captured by trickery, it’s difficult to see a way out. You lose sight of the direction you’re going, who you are, and what you’re worth. You become weak as the lies chip away pieces of your core. The liar will always lie. He has a sweet tongue and a bitter heart. I cannot make a liar have a relationship with the truth anymore than I can place my own heart in his chest and hope it beats life into his body. It’s a set up for a lifetime of torment and heartache, confusion and broken trust. It can only end in death.

But, there is always hope. God always provides a way out.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5

I’ve learned that the only thing I can rely on with my soon to be ex-husband is that I cannot rely on him. I cannot trust him with anything. Not my heart, not my sons, not my words. Yet, I have to learn to live with him still holding a piece of my heart in his deceptive hands. To surrender to him the most valuable and sacred thing I have, as he is and always will be the father of my children. I chose a bad father for my sons. That is a cruel reality I have to accept. But I no longer have to accept his version of reality.

I cannot match a lying heart. I will not change myself to fit the deception of another. Though I cannot amend who he is or his illusionary soul, I can live my life in the truth. I can allow God to fill the holes and separate me and my sons from his intricate lattice of dishonesty. I can trust in God’s promise to protect His children and “To give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” Luke 1:79

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