Most people have strong reactions to lying.
There are small lies. Polite ones. Strategic ones. Protective ones. There are lies of omission. Lies that feel harmless. Lies that feel catastrophic. Lies told so often they begin to sound like truth.
And then there are the lies told inwardly.
“I’m fine.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t need that.”
“It didn’t hurt.”
It is easy to divide the world into honest people and dishonest people.
It is harder to admit that everyone has lied at some point.
Lies usually do not begin as cruelty.
They begin as protection.
A child learns quickly what is safe to say and what is not. An adult learns when truth will cost belonging, stability, or safety. Sometimes the lie is about avoiding consequences. Sometimes it is about preserving an identity. Sometimes it is about survival.
That does not erase impact.
Being lied to can fracture trust. It can create doubt. It can destabilize a relationship.
But understanding why people lie does not require approving of it.
It requires honesty about the conditions that create it.
Before judging someone else’s lie, it can be clarifying to look at the internal ones.
When have you told yourself something that wasn’t entirely true in order to keep functioning? When have you minimized pain so you could get through the day? When have you exaggerated certainty because uncertainty felt intolerable?
Self-deception is often an attempt to regulate overwhelming emotion.
Sometimes a person lies to themselves so they can stay in a situation they are not ready to leave. Sometimes they lie so they can maintain hope. Sometimes they lie because the full truth would require a level of change they are not yet resourced for.
Again, this does not make lying harmless.
But it makes it human.
If every lie is treated as evidence of moral failure, there is no room for context. No room for growth. No room for repair.
When lying is seen only as betrayal, it becomes difficult to examine the fear beneath it.
Compassion does not mean allowing yourself to be deceived repeatedly. Boundaries still matter. Accountability still matters.
But condemnation alone rarely produces clarity.
Sometimes the work is to forgive yourself for the ways you have bent the truth to survive. To recognize that the version of you who lied was trying to cope with something that felt unmanageable.
And from that recognition, something steadier becomes possible.
Less reflexive judgment.
More discernment.
Less shame.
More responsibility.
The truth about lies is not that they make someone irredeemable.
It is that they reveal where fear was louder than safety.
And safety, once built, reduces the need for them.
Embracing Shadows, Illuminating Hope,
Chelsey Fjeldheim, LCSW
Empowering Souls on the Path of Healing
Copyright © 2026 Chelsey Fjeldheim, Courage Speaks Counseling
