Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics

Dearest Orchid,

Let’s start with a disclaimer: this isn't gonna cover your prompt of “the most damaging constructed narrative that is at odds with historical truth, if there is such a thing.” The latter exists, but we’re certainly not privy to it, because in the paraphrased words of someone who has been forgotten by time, “History is written by the victors.” Yes, yes, I too thought it was Churchill’s wisdom leaking out, tinged with cigar smoke and the unmistakable waft of brandy. Alas, no — and if you’re curious, someone laid it out here. Or, for a different, more satirical source, I turn to Mark Twain: “Herodotus says, ‘Very few things happen at the right time, and the rest do not happen at all: the conscientious historian will correct these defects.’”

The main reason that I hesitate to talk about the “most” anything is that something even more “most-y” jumps to mind immediately after I formulate a single thought.

How it started: be female and receive a diagnosis of “hysteria” no matter what symptoms you present with, because you have a “wandering uterus,” which conveniently explains any physical or mental health concerns (evidence found in some very dusty records); the cure for all your issues would be to have more sex, by the way. And don’t worry, now we just call it “psychosomatic,” or all in your head but showing up as a physical symptom, at a rate of 10 times more often for women than men.

How it’s going: show up with an assault rifle to a protest, and you too can claim self-defense when you murder some folks who respond to your heavily armed presence as a threat.

...And imagine several other topics in between.

So, as not to completely derail this writing, let’s go with door number two, with a small caveat — as with my aversion to writing about the “mostest,” this will not be the “biggest lie people tell themselves,” but it will be a whopper. (For a little context, it’s clearly the researcher in me that hesitates to pronounce anything as the final thing, unless I have done the deepest dive, and spent the longest time marinating in the evidence. It’s a curse.)

“Everybody Lies”

These iconic words of the TV physician Dr. House* are so simple, and yet the accuracy of them is remarkable. We all lie: to others, to ourselves. Sometimes, the mistruths are tiny, well-intended, designed to smooth over awkwardness or make us more comfortable. Other times, the dishonesty is staggering, intended to hurt others, to gain undeserved profits, to get away with figurative (or literal!) murder. And then, there are all the lies in between.

Reader, you might be thinking to yourself: This does not apply to me, for I am a beacon of truth and a monument to veracity! Take a pause, then, and tell me, with that signature candor, if you ever told someone that it will be alright, when you actually had no fucking idea what would come next? If you congratulated someone on a life milestone, wished them the best, and did not actually mean it? You kinda lied there, buddy. And actually, it’s okay. Societal expectations weigh heavy on many of us.

Embrace Uncertainty

You see, the “biggest lie” we tell ourselves is who we are. We assign values to ourselves, demanding that we live according to these concepts, because they will lead us to an authentic existence. We think we know how we’ll act in any given situation — if I found a black duffel filled with cash, I would immediately turn it in to the authorities and would not for a second consider taking this ill-begotten money to change my whole life; I would certainly rush into traffic to push my significant other out of the way of an oncoming bus. Or, maybe we lean the other direction — I could never commit to one person and give up seeing who I want, whenever I want, for whatever I want; if I had to choose between him or me, it would be me, every time.

These seemingly moralistic quandaries are designed to make you appear better by picking one approach over another, but that is categorically untrue. Every situation that forces us to choose a path is laden with nuance and complexity, and it would be unrealistic to believe that every time, no matter what the details, you would pick the same thing over and over. And since we will never experience every scenario possible in the universe, we will never truly know what we would do in any moment, until we are actually in it. Until you are there, faced with an impossible choice, shitty odds, knowing that you’re damned either fucking way — until your heart breaks because what you must do is not what you want to, or what your soul tells you is at odds with your brain, or or or — you won’t know what you’d do.

So, the lie? It’s who we believe ourselves to be at any moment in time, doused in absolutes, with no wiggle room for chance and change. I am not a liar or a cheater; not an asshole or selfish. I am untrustworthy or cowardly; I am irresponsible or cruel.

Embrace the uncertainty: you may have just not met the exact set of circumstances that will bring out who you are so sure you are or aren’t. I know this is an uncomfortable thing to sit with, much less accept, but I suggest you introduce yourself to the concept, buy it a drink, and get to know each other. You’ll be a little more prepared for when the inevitable shake-up occurs, and you find a different version of yourself staring back in the mirror.

Love,

Aster

P.S. For the hell of it, let’s discuss discomfort. What makes you deeply uncomfortable? It could be something others do or something you partake in. It could be a behavior or a tradition, a habit or a one-off. There have been TED talks and advice snippets indicating that we should all get comfortable with being uncomfortable, step out of our comfort zone, embrace discomfort, and whichever other phrase you can imagine. But sometimes, what makes us uncomfortable indicates that it’s just not for us, or it’s something that doesn’t align with our current values. From that perspective, you likely don’t need to roll around in that particular discomfort, so that it can get into all your cracks and crevices, causing you to just accept it as part of growth. Or maybe, you do believe this is the right approach — I don’t know, you tell me!

[Currently listening to Cody Fry’s arrangement of Eleanor Rigby. Just like The Beatles’ version — NOT!]

*I'm starting to think all roads lead to House.