I Am a Liar: Stop Living Your Lie, Start Living Your Truth

By Terence P. Dixon

In 'I Am a Liar', delve deep into the world of Terence Dixon. At just seven, a twist of 'visualized faith' led him to yearn for an accident to avoid school—a wish that tragically came true and set the course for years of self-deception. This masterful deceit shaped Terence's personal and professional life, steering his destiny.

Ask yourself: What is the one narrative you've convinced yourself of, playing on repeat, that might not be real? Many are unaware of their self-imposed deceptions, as over time these falsehoods become indistinguishable from truth.

The dangers of self-lying are insidious:

• It can anchor you in place, thwarting aspirations and dreams.
• It erodes genuine joy, happiness, and inner peace.
• It diminishes self-confidence and self-respect.
• It paves the way for despair, melancholy, and even darker paths.

If you see a reflection of your own life in these words, it's time to reclaim your truth. 'I Am a Liar' will guide you to:

• Embrace and express your true self unapologetically.
• Relish in newfound liberty to be genuinely you.
• Cultivate self-love and chase the life you've dreamt of.
• Pursue your divine purpose and calling with unwavering conviction."

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667887074

Book preview

BK90075031.jpg

I Am a Liar

© 2023 Terence Dixon

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN 978-1-66788-706-7

eBook ISBN 978-1-66788-707-4

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my beautiful mother,

who believed in me when no one else did, to my dad, the strongest man I have ever known, and to my kids, Lauren, Jordan, and Terence Jr., who are my most precious jewels.

Foreword

What a declaration! I AM A LIAR. This is the opposite of what most people would have others think of them. But the truth is, I am a liar. I have lied to myself on countless occasions throughout my life to justify my existence. I have lied to myself and about myself because I felt unworthy. I have lied to myself because I was unhappy with who I perceived myself to be. I have lied, lied, lied—and along the way, I lost track of the truth. But one day, I decided that I no longer wanted to live in such a constrained, fearful, and unfulfilling way.

I Am a Liar shines a light on why we resort to self-lying to hide our true, authentic selves, and it reveals how to break free from self-deception and self-doubt to live our Ultimate Life

Table of Contents

I Am A Liar

Why Do We Lie?

Embrace Change; Your Life Depends On It

Step #1: You Are Perfection

Step #2: Unshakeable Self-Confidence

Let Go

Step #3: Get Dramatic

Step #4: You Are Worthy!

You Have A Superpower

My Back Story

Step #5: An Invaluable Lesson Learned

I Said I Was A Liar

Step #6: You Are A Persevering Man

He Needed The Hug

You Are Prepared

Step #7: Change Your Health, Change Your Life

Fear Is An MF!

Whom Do I Trust?

Reset Your Perspective

Summary Of The Seven-Step Strategy

Why Did I Write This Book?

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER 1

I Am a Liar

I am a liar. I am one of the biggest liars you will ever know. I am not proud of it, but I have lied to myself and to others for over half my life. I have lied so much that I would confuse the times I’ve lied with the times I’ve told the truth. The more I lied, the more guilt and shame I felt about lying. I have lied even when it was not necessary—just out of habit. I became so good at lying that I started believing the lies I was telling—knowing they were lies. My perception became my reality, and my lies became my truth. Lying as much as I have, how could I suddenly declare my authentic truth and face condemnation, rejection, or worse?

This is my declaration for all the world to know. I can no longer sit back and keep this information concealed.

From the age of seven and beyond, I hid myself from the world. From my childhood, my teens, and into my early thirties, I covered up. Even in the hottest of California summers, I would not wear a T-shirt, I would not wear a tank top, and I would not go to the beach or swimming pools for the fear that someone would see the twelve-inch scar on my right arm—and that they would find it disgusting and run away. This is the lie I told myself daily. I had such deep feelings of inadequacy about my scar, I felt imprisoned in my own body. Once I dropped a twenty-pound weight on my hand just to avoid taking gym class. Using other such stunts, I was able to get through junior and senior high school without ever having to dress for gym.

For most kids, the transition from elementary school to junior high school is a cause for concern, and for me, it triggered much trepidation. I was not concerned about the workload or making new friends or being popular. I was concerned about one thing only: the scar.

How did I make it through six years of junior high and high school without dressing even one time for gym? Lies! I made up story after story and ended my first year in junior high with an F in gym class, simply because I would not wear the standard short-sleeve shirt and shorts. I became an expert in spinning elaborate excuses for why I could not wear the regulation gym attire. See this scar in the back of my head? I have a steel plate inserted in there and I go a little crazy if I get too much sun, or My arms get a bad allergic reaction if exposed to the elements, and I would have to walk around for days looking like Frankenstein’s monster. Of course, I used headache and stomachache excuses as easily as blowing bubbles on a hot summer’s day—and, ironically, sometimes those lies turned out to be the truth. Often, I really did develop a headache from the sheer stress of having to lie about not dressing for gym. In the end, my gym teacher failed me. Who fails gym!

The longer this went on, the more adamant I became about not revealing my deep secret. This made me melancholy and sent me into a state of depression so severe that I entertained thoughts of taking my life. What would lead anyone to take such drastic measures?

What is a liar? Most dictionaries define a liar as a person who tells lies or has a reputation for telling lies. Some synonyms for the word liar are deceiver, fibber, perjurer, false witness, and fabricator. But I did not think of myself as any of those things. I was not lying to mislead others for my own benefit. It was all about self-preservation. I lied because I thought the truth would place me in a bad light. These monstrous lies became so real to me that I could not stop repeating them. I rationalized that I was only telling a little fib, which did not hurt anyone. I did not realize that in attempting to avoid pain, I was causing myself more harm than good, as it lessened my self-worth.

What do experts say about lying? In a 1996 study, Bella DePaulo, PhD, a psychologist at the University of Virginia, found that most people lie once or twice a day, almost as often as they snack from the refrigerator or brush their teeth. Both men and women lie in approximately one-fifth of their social exchanges lasting ten or more minutes; over the course of a week, they deceive about thirty percent of those with whom they interact one-on-one.

Judging from that study, I am just like everybody else—which means I’m normal. Whew, I feel better. But does being normal justify what I did? No, because by lying, I missed out on so much of the good stuff in life. Though I enjoyed playing outside as a kid, running the streets, being active, I did not participate in organized sports for the fear that I might have to wear a short-sleeve shirt or worse—take the shirt off.

I did not know how to swim, and not because I am black. My father, a Korean War veteran who served in the Coast Guard for twenty-five years, was an expert swimmer. So, under those circumstances, you would think I’d have at least learned how to float. One summer, I attended Griffith Park Summer Camp where we had access to a pool. Naturally, I was creative with my excuses for not swimming, but on the last day, I was persuaded to go in. Barely immersing myself in the water, my anxiety hit, and I felt like I was drowning. (Side note: My cabin mates must have wanted me in that pool with its healthy dose of chlorine since I had not bathed or showered all week.) Because of my rank body odor, my father made me get in the back of the van when he picked me up. But although I smelled like a week-old can of tuna, Dad showed me grace and relented on his normal scolding. I think he knew of my covert operation and went along with my story.

But the lie or cover-up took on a life of its own. The more I committed to it, the greater my guilt and shame—that, in addition to the guilt and shame I was feeling from how I had gotten the scar (more about this later).

My close friends and family knew of the scar on my arm but never questioned me about why I was wearing long-sleeve shirts in the sweltering heat of summer. As I sit here writing this book during one of the hottest LA summers in years, I still wonder how I allowed myself to suffer quietly for so long. These days, you can always find me in shorts and a T-shirt or tank top, even in mild weather.

It was not always like this. When the scar was new, I was proud of it and showed it off. Throughout the intense and extensive physical training/therapy that followed the near-fatal accident, I became stronger than before, with unshakeable self-confidence.

Then I began to change. When my mother took me school-shopping and started throwing short-sleeve shirts into the cart, I would persuade her that the longer-sleeved ones looked better. I became skilled at the art of persuasion, as I was invariably trying to throw people off my scent or was just blatantly lying to promote a false narrative.

I suspect my lying would seem insignificant to most readers; but to me, it was life-consuming. I allowed my scar to become more than what it really was—a simple healed injury. And now, after all these years, I see it as a sign of strength; a symbol of a valiant survivor.

What is your lie? What is it that no one else knows but you? What lies are you telling yourself right now that are holding you back from walking in your purpose? Or, what lies have others told you that you are accepting as truth? Most people have at least one lie locked securely inside, forcing them to suffer it in silence.

I remember speaking at an event and telling my story when a towering man with a great handlebar mustache came up to me afterwards and started crying as he explained that he had no physical scars—only an invisible one on his heart. My mind searched for the right words to comfort and encourage him. He was much bigger than I was, so it was difficult to place my arms around him. My instinct was to give him a firm embrace, allowing him to cry on my shoulder. That was such a remarkable moment for me!

We sometimes mistakenly believe we are the only ones going through a traumatic episode, whereas every one of us has endured painful experiences. Fortunately, we can usually shake off any of their negative impact on our thinking. But in my case, the negativity lingered for more than twenty-five years. During that period, I often felt alone. The good news is, I realize I never was.

Today, I am grateful for my scar as it formed me into the man I have become. Without it, I do not think I would have been as compassionate, caring, or empathetic.

Do not be defined by the lies that you have told but by the truths that lie waiting in your heart for revelation. Choose to live life fully honest, open, and transparent. You have a choice!

CHAPTER 2

Why Do We Lie?

Some would say that if the lie does not hurt anyone, then proceed accordingly. That if you are not intentionally out to deceive but merely striving to survive in an unforgiving world, feel free to go for it. It seems we are trained from an early age to lie to avoid getting into trouble. Your mom or dad stands over you with a dissatisfied grimace and interrogates you like you are on trial: Okay. Who did it? Instinctively, it seems our brain quickly evaluates the two options: (1) tell the truth and face the punishment or (2) lie and see if you can extricate yourself from the issue. Being the youngest of five kids, I attempted to get out of punishment on many occasions by blaming my siblings, but I was not the best of liars, as, according to my father, he could always tell when I was lying. I would stutter or gaze into the sky as if waiting for the explanation I needed to mysteriously appear out of the blue and render me blameless.

In court, you