Freefalling

Honesty is the best policy, even when fear holds back the truth. Last October, I made a particularly severe mistake, especially through the eyes of my parents. Although I had committed dastardly acts, taking accountability for what I did solidified my understanding of the power of integrity. Honesty gave light to a fresh start, to a new beginning without lies and deceit.

As punishment, I was denied participation in the Winter Carnival festivities at my high school. Though the festivities weren’t scheduled until March, my parents knew it was important to me; and not at all important to them. We wore themed outfits during the week, and spirit games were played after school to win points. I love everything about school events and can count on one hand how many I’ve missed. Despite being banned, I wanted to play, hopefully getting points for our class; which has never won anything. I had conjured up a lie that I needed to do work with my math teacher after school. Naturally, my parents knew that I was up to something. I have always been a star student, excelling in the classroom, and math was not something I needed extra help with, even though it was a college-level class that my sophomore self was not nearly prepared enough for. My parents wanted a confirmation email from my teacher that math was my intention.

Right then, I began to think. Getting away with my lie now seemed out of reach. Fear and anxiety overtook me, deep thundering heartbeats and shallow breaths wreaking my chest. I worried they would be upset, ridicule, patronize, and hate me forever. Anxiety had fully convinced me that I would never be forgiven. I had already broken their trust beyond what seemed repairable. What if no one will ever trust me? I was slipping the treacherous slope, with no catch for my fingertips. I was freefalling. What if they never gave me any freedom to stretch my wings? How could I tell my parents I was lying, and just wanted to play games? I couldn’t get away with the lie. I finally admitted, grasping for anything within reach, “I don’t have work after school”. Though receiving disappointed looks, my honesty was disregarded.

Scents of dinner flooded the kitchen as I stayed waiting in my bedroom. We were called and my family sat around the dinner table, my father, stepmother, sister, and myself, (my brother, too young and lively to stand eating dinner with the rest of us). They directed their attention to me. I sat still, frozen. The big finale was here. “We are proud of your honesty, which is a big step in the right direction and deserves recognition.” I was thrilled! I could attend the Winter Carnival Dance, though not play the games I wanted to. My anxiety does not control the universe, although it likes to insinuate that. Even though I did deliberately try to lie to my parents, and made my fair share of mistakes, admitting my wrongdoing worked out positively, my final attempt at vindication. Even when the truth is hard to wrap your head around, honesty is the best policy.

Featured Image: “Falling” by Elena Kalis is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.