Trust Issues

I am a very gullible person. I tend to believe most of everything I hear. Of course, if my education has taught me otherwise, I will be skeptical. So, those of you who work with me would be relieved to hear that if someone told me that, for example, a study conducted by the University of West Virginia found that women who strength trained regularly for a year were 15-20 years younger at the close of the study, I would contest that. (For those of you who don't work with me and haven't heard that story, it's a kind of inside joke, and I'm well aware that it's West Virginia University.)

But when it comes to personal issues, I will believe just about anything. Why? Because I trust people to tell me the truth. I was a horrible liar in high school. I don't mean I was a bad liar- I was actually quite good at it. By horrible I mean I did it way too much. In high school, I craved adoration and attention, so I would make up stupid stuff to make myself interesting to people. But I'm pretty sure that no one knew. At least, no one ever tried to call me on it. I was good at it. The key to being a good liar is offering just the right amount of information- not too much and not too little- and not making the lies too incredibly outlandish. And making people think you're a bad liar helps too.

But this needy phase in high school was the exception for me. Other than that, I've been an incredibly honest person. Not counting towards my mom. I've lied to her my entire life, and will probably continue to lie to her about random things until the day I die. Even if I die after her, I will probably lie to her in mental conversations with her in the afterlife. Even if she can see every move I make. But my messed up, dishonest relationship with my mother is another post altogether. So take what I say in this post to mean all relationships outside the one with my mom.

When I was in first and second grade, I lived across the court from a boy named Jason. He was my age, and although we went to different schools, we spent a lot of our free time together. I guess I was kind of a slut even then because we would often sneak into the woods behind his house to make out. I know. Second grade. I'm so ashamed.

Anyway, during the time that was not spent swapping spit, he would tell me all these stories about girls in his class that he had crushes on. In one particular instance, he related to me how he had actually tried to kiss one of the girls, but she moved away just in time. I think my brother was around when Jason told this story, and I think I said something to him about it. I don't think Joe knew that Jason and I were having a mini-affair, but I guess it was obvious to him that Jason kind of had a crush on me, because he said Jason was only saying those things to make me jealous.

I didn't get it. Why would he be trying to make me jealous? Didn't he already pretty much get whatever he wanted with me? (Yes, we were just kissing...please!) And I liked Jason, but it's not like I was planning our wedding or anything. I saw it as just having fun. Getting practice for later. We were still allowed to see other people, as far as I was concerned. I obviously felt that I was too young at the time to be tied down to one person. But why is it that Joe could see that these were just stories, but I couldn't?

Even now I have problems taking things with a grain of salt. I have one friend who is notorious among people who know him for exaggerating things. But I don't accept that. If he tells me that he went to a club and the women were all over him, pawing him left and right, I'll believe it. Why wouldn't I? How would he benefit from my believing that is a total ladies' man? A piece of meat? It wouldn't make me paw him up! It doesn't make me jealous because he's not my husband! And why would he want to make me jealous anyway?

For some reason, all of our friends see this. I will relate a story to them that he told me and their unanimous response is that that's what he says but he tends to exaggerate things, so it probably didn't happen, at least not the way he described. But I always believe him. Sometimes it frustrates me because exciting things tend to happen to him, and, as you can tell from this blog, I am experiencing a general lack of excitement in my life these days. That's when I wish that I possessed that skepticism that allows me to separate fantasy from fact and think that things may not have happened quite as interestingly as he described.

So then the problem arises when I compare myself to what this guy, and others like him, are saying. I'm not the kind of person who gets upset when good things happen to other people, especially my friends. But when a person speaks incessantly about, oh, I don't know...how ginormous his house is, or how incredibly busy she is because of her amazing social life, I tend to belittle my own house and social life. Which is even worse when what that person is saying isn't even completely true! So then in my head, these other people have completley fascinating, exciting lives with great houses, perfect families and incredible friends. And I am left feeling completely inadequate. Not a good feeling.

And now I'm having problems with my boyfriend obsession favorite author Augusten. His books are supposed to be true accounts of what happened. I took every word as the gospel. I believed his mother handed him over to her psychiatrist when he was in his early teens so she could deal with the effects of her failing marriage and pursue a life as a poet and writer. I believe that this psychiatrist's family was bizarre, unconventional family who spent their time eating dog food, admiring poop, living in their front yard and creating massive holes in the ceiling of their kitchen.

Why do I believe it? Because he says it's true. So every word is taken literally, in my mind. But now I find out (and forgive me for my ignorance to current events- this is actually old news) that the family that he was sent to live with actually sued him because of his inaccurate portrayal of his time spent with them.

So....it's not true? Did he or did he not play with an old electroshock machine? Who do I believe? I want to believe Augusten. Because why would he lie?

To sell books.

So where does that leave me? I guess at this point, I still believe what people say. And I'm vaguely aware that there might be some element of juicing things up to make them more interesting. And that might bother me somewhat. But I'm not about to start calling people out, attacking every minute detail of what they say in the hopes I can catch them in a lie. I guess the key is just listening and accepting, but not letting the details have an effect on me on the off chance that they are not accurate.

Easier said than done!