The beginning lies:
I am just tired. I didn’t sleep last night.
I had a doctor appointment and they took blood.
I applied for school but I haven’t heard yet.
I applied for the job but they haven’t called me yet.
I’m just not hungry.
I have friends, just no one is around.
He got kicked out of his house for nothing.
The active using lies:
I’m not using. I don’t want to do that.
I didn’t take your money.
I didn’t take his money.
I just hit a curb, I don’t know how it happened.
They are sleeping pills.
They are prescription.
I will come home.
I have none left, I swear.
I didn’t shoot up this time.
I didn’t snort it this time.
I only took 1 benzo. It did nothing.
The lies we tell our addict in active addiction:
I believe you.
I didn’t search your room, your phone, your facebook, your purse.
I won’t tell him that you aren’t home.
I will tell them you are clean.
I won’t section you.
I won’t section you again.
No one knows.
No one can tell.
You look fine.
No one is mad at you.
The lies we tell ourselves about our addict:
I will never throw her out.
I will never let her come home.
I will never turn her into the police.
I will never hid her from the police.
I will never take her phone away.
I will never give her the phone back.
I will never give up.
I give up.
It’s not her fault.
It’s not my fault.
It’s all her fault.
It’s all my fault.
Her siblings will forgive her.
This has to be her bottom.
It can’t get worse.
It will never get better.
My work understands.
No one knows.
Life will go back to normal.
She will be normal again.
She is normal kid, just got with the wrong crowd.
She will come back.
She won’t die.
The lies an addict tells herself:
I won’t die.