11/18/2022 - 4:10 p.m.

I'm relaxing, but then I remember someone who lied to me. Long ago, but lied to me. Just flat out said something that wasn't true -- and then when confronted, told another lie just to cover up the first one...

But his shamelessness is what disturbed me. He believed his own lies -- always rushed to a fantasy where he's blameless, which he then instantly shared out loud -- again and again. So you'd never detect him lying -- because there wasn't really any malice. He was absolutely utterly sincere... when he shared these untrue scenarios with you.

It was very disturbing. So much so it left me with this feeling that came up. How can you trust, really, if it's possible for someone to lie without feeling like they're lying? Really, it was a very troubling and disturbing experience.

But I started to get to a better place on it. I imagined telling him: "There's really something wrong with you. It's not my job to fix it -- and I'm not going to give you a hard time about it." And then after a pause, I'd say, "But I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're so fearful of disapproval. So very frightened of others. And it's a problem that keeps recurring -- you keep having more and more reasons to fear their reactions. Fear it'll all catch up to you..."

So I'm sorry. I'm sorry for your pain. Goodbye. And good luck.

As a kind of epilogue, I remember a song from the old Saturday morning cartoon that Bill Cosby did -- Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids. The lesson of the half-hour episode was about a dishonest kid in the neighborhood named "Begging Benny." He'd always have a story about why he needed something from you -- and then a story about why he couldn't give it back. Like every episode, it ended with a song -- and it's a good-enough mantra for that moment when you're moving on and reclaiming your trust.

"Beggin' Benny
We're glad there aren't many like you."