Liar, Liar

Figures often beguile me, particularly when I have the arranging of them myself; in which case the remark attributed to Disraeli would often apply with justice and force: "There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies and statistics."
- Mark Twain's Own Autobiography: The Chapters from the North American Review 

I hate lies.  I hate being lied to.  I am an easy dupe, constantly credulous, so I know it happens all the time.  I want to believe people, want to think they're all playing above the table, want to believe everyone is trying to do the right thing even when I know they're not.  I need to believe that there are people who want to play those rules, need to believe that people are basically good, or I can't even get out of the bed in the morning, actually.

Therefore, when I learn that I've been lied to for a very long time by somebody I really trusted, the betrayal I feel is profound.

I can understand why it happened.  The situation, I'm sure, felt like one that demanded it at the time.  However, who we are when nobody is looking is who we really are, right?  We all struggle with darkness.  We all have secret sins, flaws we hope nobody ever sees, pieces of ugliness that we fight every day, but embracing them, excusing them with situational ethics is not a way to make ourselves or any situation we find ourselves in better.  We refine nothing, solve nothing, bring forth no gold from the dross when we say, "I will do this wrong this time, in this crisis and call it good." All we do is stave off disaster until later, allow the wound to fester untended.

What are the results of this latest revelation for me?  Another person I can't quite look in the eye.  Another huge mess somebody is going to have to clean up.  Another nail in the coffin of the whole situation.  Another scar I have to carry internally.  Most crucially, I've been thinking lately, another reason I should just force myself not to trust anyone. 

Is this a way to live, though?  Do I need to close myself off because of the unfaithfulness of others?  Should I stop believing in the truth because others have?  Part of me very much wants to protect myself, become cynical, trust no one, but this is no way to go through life, is it?  At the same time, I don't think I can be the same person I was.  I don't think I should be.  It is equally unwise to learn nothing from a situation that has brought pain.

Maybe the best course of action is to follow Shakespeare's quote, "Love all, trust a few, do harm to none."  Maybe if I can keep this axiom in my mind, I can find a middle road between a hard shell that keeps everyone out and a heart so credulous that everyone can wipe their feet on it and walk away laughing.