Growing Up in a Culture of Lies
March 2025 by J. Jones
What happens when lying isn’t the exception but the norm? In families where dishonesty is modeled and normalized, the truth becomes a casualty of survival. This is a personal story of unlearning lies, facing inner conflict, and learning how to live with integrity.
When Lying Was Normal in My Household
In my childhood home, lying wasn’t discouraged—it was routine. Parents lied to each other. My brother lied to them. I lied to survive. Lies weren’t always malicious; often, they were delivered casually, without a second thought. But the frequency created something dangerous: a blueprint.
The Double Standard That Made It Worse
While lying was common, the consequences were not consistent. One day, a lie might be brushed off as harmless. The next, that same kind of deception could spark rage, punishment, or shame. That unpredictability didn’t just confuse me—it eroded my sense of emotional safety. I was always on edge, wondering which version of the rules applied today.
How Small Lies Became Survival Tactics
Not all lies are equal—but they often grow the same way. What starts as a small omission quickly becomes a strategy. Lies become tools to delay consequences, manipulate outcomes, or avoid pain. And the more you use them, the easier it gets to justify them. In an environment where truth had no real value, deception became a kind of currency.
Corruption Starts with What We Normalize
At some point, my behavior became so blatant there was no need to lie—it was obvious. Yet I still hated being lied to. That contradiction gnawed at me. Why was I furious when others lied, yet so willing to justify my own deception? It’s no surprise I developed a deep aversion to corruption. I had been shaped by it—and it repulsed me.
Living in Conflict with My Own Values
Living by one set of values while operating by another is exhausting. It creates a constant inner war—between the version of you that wants honesty and the version that’s still surviving through lies. I was both judge and defendant, trapped in a court of my own making.
Meeting Honesty for the First Time
In adulthood, I surrounded myself with people who lied just as much as I did. It made things easier—less guilt, less pressure to change. But then someone came into my life who didn’t lie. I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. For months, I waited for the catch, the twist, the reveal. But it never came. And that’s when I realized how deep the damage ran—how untrusting I had become, not because of others, but because of the life I had learned to expect.
The Lies I Couldn’t Justify Anymore
Eventually, I slipped. I lied again—this time about using, and later, about selling. Those lies felt different. Not because they were bigger, but because they cut deeper. I saw them for what they were: evidence that I still hadn’t healed. I’ll tell that full story another day, but the takeaway is this—it’s hard to stop lying when it’s tied to survival. But it’s harder to keep lying once you’ve tasted what real truth feels like.
Why I Choose Truth Now
Corruption isn’t just about systems or politics. It’s personal. It starts when we normalize dishonesty—when we treat lying as easier, safer, or smarter. That mindset poisoned my relationships, my decisions, and my self-worth. And it took years to undo. A lie is a wound disguised as protection. It doesn’t save anyone. It just delays the pain. I’m done living by a different set of rules than the ones I expect from others.