There is an important privacy issue at play in this lying vs truth telling idea. We tend to all paint ourselves in broad strokes with brushes dipped in hues of castigation, condemnation, and all manner of self reproach. But not everyone is entitled to a "peek inside" you. We are not freaks in a circus to be gawked at, and sadly, much of the attention that comes our way carries that with it if it doesn't define the attention outrightly. Sure, our families care. But what that caring entitles them to know is hardly carved in stone.

This doesn't sound like any kind of pin point response, I know, but back to this broad brush analogy...

What about detail brushes, smaller ones to describe ourselves to ourselves? For myself, I can not describe some of my symptoms for free. The toll exacted from me for simply telling my story, is in itself a trigger for a period of "unpleasantness." So I become choosy about which invitations I accept to talk about my "stuff." I have the right to some privacy for my inner machinations. If my choice is to not reveal in this or that moment, often the only socially accepted recourse, the path of least resistance, if you will, is to tell that "lie," again, "I'm fine." To me, there is so much difference in recognizing those details. I can't achieve that awareness with the big brush of judgement. Lord knows I get enough of that without jumping on the bandwagon myself. lol