"The worst part about being lied to is knowing that you aren't worth the truth."
The past 24 hours have been enlightening to me. Two things happened that were related and very surprising to me. I have mentioned that we have become very good liars in order to keep Mom pacified. "Yes, Mom, you are only 30." "No, Mom, I'm not your daughter." "Yes, it is Sunday." "Yes, your parents will be here in a little bit to pick you up."
What I didn't realize was how easy lying becomes. I hate lying and I have no respect for people who do it. So, it is startling to find out that I have become a liar. When a friend asked to stop by I responded by telling her that I wouldn't be home. Which was a bald-faced, inexcusable lie. She is not deserving of the disrespect that a liar shows others. She is worth more than that to me.
So, the other thing that happened? The reason I lied? I am embarrassed by where I live. I don't mean the, "Sorry, the place is a mess" type of embarrassed. I mean I don't want anyone coming here. Period. Mom's house has never been a palace but, up until I started being with her 24/7, she was on her way to becoming a hoarder. Oh, the crap she has brought into this house. I am finally able to start throwing things away... she doesn't remember that she had the stuff. But, there is only so much room in the trash can each week. And, even being here with her every minute of every day, I cannot keep up with her stashing. If there is a flat surface or crevice, it will be filled with cookies or bread crusts or lint from under the cushions on the couch. Or worse. I just cannot handle it. It embarrasses me.
I do not want to lie to any of you. Ever. So, until I am able to be comfortable here, I will ask you to understand that I have things here that need dealing with and please don't expect an invitation in. You are worthy of the truth.