How do you cope with being lied to?

“Das verstehst du noch nicht, du bist ja noch so klein . . . ”

(This you cannot understand yet, you are still too young for this . . . )

This is one of my earliest memories about how Mum would have talked to me. However, Dad would never have talked to me like this. This is how I remember it anyhow. Dad always tried to explain everything to me.

When I was sixteen, I had the chance to meet my Dad for a few hours. He told me that Mum had divorced him . Didn’t she tell you this, he asked me. As a matter of fact, no, she had not bothered to let me know anything about the divorce! In the end I think I told myself that she probably meant well, that she just did not want me to get upset! Was I upset then? My word, I was. When I was  young and still living with my mother,  I could never adjust to the way Mum treated me. No matter how well she meant, she managed to upset me very, very often in lots of ways!

The same kind of being extremely upset I do experience when politicians in power deliberately keep things from the electorate or spread outright lies!!


7 thoughts on “How do you cope with being lied to?

  1. This really happened to a friend of mine…

    Proverb: Those who need a good ambassador should send themselves.

    Parable: Daniel was adopted out at six weeks old to a childless couple who loved him dearly and raised him as best they could. His natural mother and father were separated several months before he was born so that he knew neither true parent. Years later, when he was in his late twenties, he felt the need to contact his natural parents. He could not find his mother, but through one of the special agencies that help adopted people, he obtained the address of his father.

    “Well”, the father said as he sat down at the table, “this is a surprise!” and he dropped a spoonful of sugar into his cup of tea, “sugar?…Daniel, … Daniel isn’t it?”the father asked.
    “Yes to both questions” Daniel replied.
    “Well.. then .. it’s good to see you all growed up and healthy … even without my guidance”. The man nervously laughed.
    “I’ve had good …care”. Daniel said as he put the cup to his lips.
    “Well then … “the father rubbed his left hand on his thigh uneasily. “Well then … er … tell me; how’s your mother?”
    “My mother? Daniel looked puzzled, “I don’t know, I haven’t seen her”.
    “What … what do you mean – haven’t seen her”, the father, puzzled too now, queried.
    “No” Daniel went on “Not for as long as I can remember … I was adopted out at six weeks old!” Daniel blinked at his father.

    “The Hell you say!!” The man leapt to his feet upsetting things on the table, “The hell you say!” he cried again as he turned away and raked his fingers through his hair. He turned then and brought his great fist down.. crash!! onto the kitchen table. “Your mother had me paying maintenance for you for sixteen years!” and he stood back from the table and welsh-combed his hair again.
    “Well … you could’ve gone around there and you would’ve seen for yourself” said Daniel. The man flicked his hand away angrily.
    “Ahh! … me and your old lady didn’t get on, so we “talked”, as you might say, through a mate of mine who … who went … over … oh bloody hell …” The father stopped suddenly and stared as though in a trance. He sat down on the chair slowly.
    “Oh bloody hell … a mate of mine …”

    1. Well, Gerard, I always felt my mother should have had a different, more ‘understanding’ daughter, and I should perhaps have had a different mother. I had several aunts (on my mother’s as well as on my father’s side) with whom I had much more rapport.

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