Telling the truth about something shameful is an interesting bargain.
We exchange being a worse person who is seen as better, for being a better person, who is seen as a worse one.
That is, we go from being an immoral person who everybody trusts, to a moral person who everybody condemns.
We downgrade our reputation and suffer losses for the deeply soulful result of living in truth once again.
There is something about living a lie that is a bit like holding your breath underwater or going around caked in dirt no one else can see. It’s a pure relief then, finally taking a breath or finally being clean.
The outrage people feel, learning they were lied to, is also interesting.
I want to clarify what harm was done.
A lie places the victim in a false location. They are lost but they don’t know it.
A lie steals their autonomy and volition. It prevents self-defense and self-preservation.
A lie repudiates all the moments it seemed but only seemed, we were loved.
A lie reveals our value to the liar: a convenience, not a treasure.
While the lie was believed we didn’t know where we were, or who we were with.
They might as well have thrown us in a sack.