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Lie Filled Confessions...

Have you ever confessed to something you didn’t do?  I have, quite a few times actually.  I am not really sure what that is about...but there is this innate sense of guilt within me that makes me feel like I have done something wrong, or am doing something wrong, even though I am not. And sometimes the relief I seek comes in the form of confessing to shit that I didn't do.


While my ego would love to tell you here that I used to be quite the badass, the truth, the horrible, fucking truth is that I have always been a pretty good person.  Yes, I was totally fucked up and lacked appropriate boundaries and sometimes morals.  But in recovery analysis, I have, was and always have been a decent human being.  I obey the laws (most of them, most of the time, some laws are stupid so I have adopted a more flexible compliance system of dealing with them - like the speed limit and well, that is all I can really think of...).  I am not sure how badly this makes me feel.  Like how can one person hold this disappointment that I wasn’t more gangster and be grateful for it at the very same time?  I have never been to jail except to converse with clients.  I have never even been arrested.  (Admitted with a great deal of shame...). Now, this does NOT mean that I didn’t do things that could have gotten me arrested...just that I was never caught.


Back in the day, on like a Tuesday afternoon, you could have caught me for drunk driving home from law school, so there is that.  And I am forever grateful that in my constantly inebriated state, I didn’t kill myself or anyone else.  So with some dismay, I will just own that I have been woefully average in my whole rebellious, badassery.  In short, I have a few crazy stories stoked and fueled by addiction and men who were less than stellar but save that, I am and have always been pretty pedestrian.  Fuck, I hate admitting that.


Anyway, there have been times, mostly ego driven ridiculous times, when I have lied and confessed to things that I didn’t do.  Why you ask?  Well, I am not completely sure.  I think because saying I did something I didn’t actually do makes me feel better somehow.  Like it is some sort of atonement for all the drunk driving I did but didn’t get caught or arrested for...I am not sure.  I know that my level of perversity somehow makes lying about shit that I didn’t do that isn’t good all gets sorted in my head and somehow makes sense to me.


When I was in Ireland recently, I got pulled over at a DUI checkpoint on a bank holiday weekend.  I had just left a meeting. Which was amusing to me...and I told the cop where I had been, because he asked.  


Police Officer

“Where are you coming from this evening, mam'”


Me

“A sobriety meeting”


Police Officer

“Really,  you don’t say...”


Me

“No, really, I did just say.”


Police Officer

“Well, then we better give you a breathalyzer”


Me

“Really?  That is your response to me just telling you that I came from a meeting?  Like I just left it three minutes ago...”


Police Officer

“Yep, hold on...please blow into this...”


Now I will tell you that internally I panicked.  And I am absolutely positive that I showed that panic on the outside.  I haven’t had any alcohol in my system, or anything else illegal, for over 29 years.  So getting asked to perform a field sobriety test shouldn’t have bothered me at all but this is what my mind did....


Me to Myself

OMG, you are chewing sugar free gum and I think that has sugar alcohol in it...what if that registers something?!?!


Me to Officer

“Um, hold on, I need to spit out my gum...”


Police Officer

“Ok...”


Me

Fumbling around in my rental car trying to find a piece of paper to spit it in, not finding anything, despite my frantic search, awkwardly swallows the gum instead.


Police Officer

“We good now?”


Me

Panicking and feeling very sure that the test is going to pop over a .08 and I am going to jail for sure.  And then freaking the fuck out that I am not even sure what the legal limit is in Ireland.  And now beating myself up for ever chewing sugar free gum, I mean what the fuck was I thinking...then wondering if I get a phone call.  And who exactly would I call?  I have the number of a few people from the meeting, I mean they feel like better choices than me calling anyone back in the states.  I mean what the fuck is anyone back there going to do?  And then again, I don’t really know the people from the meeting...

Swallows hard, “yep, good to go!”  I say with too much enthusiasm for a roadside sobriety test.


Police Officer

“Now just blow into this tube...”


Me

Thinks about making some bizarre sexual joke, thinks better of it at the last second, and decides, rightly, that would not be good...”um, yes, ready...”  Which I say with as much awkwardness as humanly possible.


I blow into the machine and then time stops.  I mean it literally just stands still and I am on that road waiting for the results for an eternity.  I mean, it was at least 12 seconds, but in my mind, my entire life, how I would explain failing a sobriety test when I claim to have 29 + years of sobriety, would I be given counsel for free, do I get that fucking phone call, why didn’t I brush up on my legal knowledge for Ireland before I came over, I mean this suddenly feels like shit I should fucking KNOW!


Police Officer

“Ok, mam’ have a nice evening...”


Me

“It was negative” (I was that sure it was going to be positive that I needed his verbal confirmation...)


Police Officer

“Yes...now you have a lovely evening...”


Me

“Ok, thanks...”  Feeling shocked and somewhat let down.  Not that I didn’t pop positive even though I have not had alcohol in fucking forever but because I just invested so much mental and emotional energy in this whole exchange that feeling let down is the only thing that could possibly happen.


I drive away shaky and feeling like I just got away with something...WHICH IS CRAZY BECAUSE I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!  BUT INSTEAD OF BEING NORMAL, THIS IS WHAT I HAVE, THIS GUILTY FUCKING CONSCIOUS THAT PLAGUES ME LIKE THIS.


And I wish I could just end the insanity there, but I can’t.  I also have to own the whole US Customs debacle...


Now, I am in a fucking hurry because despite my leaving 8 hours before my flight I am almost going to miss it through no fault of my own...and so I need customs to be a breeze.  And I am lucky that I stand waiting for the next agent for like .06 seconds.  


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“Passport, boarding pass.”


Me

“Um, here...” Fumbling like he asked me for things that I wasn’t prepared to give him.


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“How long have you been in Ireland”


Me

Forgetting that I was in England first, “two weeks...wait, no, 10 days, I mean, are we counting today, of course we are counting today...so 11 days, wait, no, 10, shit, I mean it depends on how you count...”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

Stares at me blankly, blinks more times than is necessary...”so ten days?”


Me

Meekly, “yes, again depending on how you count..."


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“What were you doing here?”


Me

I debate telling him that I was on a quest, an inner pilgrimage that needed to be perfected across the land of Ireland, that I am 54 and not really sure what the fuck I am doing with and in my life...but I think better than saying all that and instead answer awkwardly “driving”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

Somewhat incredulously, “driving?”


Me

“Uh huh”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“Business or pleasure...”


Me

“Um, that, well, I mean pleasure but it was emotionally hard at times, but I guess that still doesn’t register to the level of business so I guess, pleasure...final answer.”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

Not amused...”where did you go?”


Me

Proudly, “I drove the coast of the entire country, I started in Dublin then went North...”he cuts me off because he knows I am about to give him a blow by blow of every fucking place I went...


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“Did you buy anything?”


Me

Confused, I mean does he really think I was here for 10, or 11 days and didn’t buy anything?  “Um, yes.”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“Like what?” He demands with a look like I better not fuck this up.


Me

Stammering, “food, um gas, I mean petrol, shit I got that wrong a lot in the beginning and I kept having to wait because the workers thought I wanted propane, but I didn’t. I mean I didn’t buy any propane while I was here, I mean what would I need that for, right?”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

He cuts me off again...”what ELSE?”


Me

“Um, gifts...”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“What KIND of gifts...”


Me To myself

“do not mention food, I am pretty sure you aren’t allowed to be taking food home as gifts..”


Me To Custom Agent who looks like The Rock

“postcards, uh, well, some jewelry...”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“Jewelry over $500 Euros?”


Me

Sheepishly...”no.”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“What else” with a growing impatience...


And I am pretty sure it was at this time that I notice on his computer screen a photo or video of my luggage, and I feel judged and now very nervous, about what I cannot tell you...it is like I feel like I am some sort of Columbian drug mule, except that isn’t anywhere near factual...


Me

“A sweater, a few hats...yarn.”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“Designer clothes?”


Me

“Do I look like a designer clothes person, I mean everything I have on right now came out of a thrift store...except my shoes...”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

Appearing increasingly mad at me and frustrated...”any designer shoes, purses”


Me

“Nope, just a bargain shopper over here, no designer anything...”


Customs Agent who looks like The Rock

“You can go...”


Me

Expecting way more inquisition, “well, ok, thanks, I mean, have a good day, I, er, well, bye...”


The whole exchange took less than five minutes but I spent that entire time expecting to get pulled into one of those back airport rooms you always hear mentioned, or depicted in the movies, and there I would languish for the rest of my natural born life, while poorly paid TSA workers culled through my belongings with judgment and an abject disappointment that tonight there would be no funny hilarity about what they found in this American woman’s luggage.  


See what I mean?  I am not normal.  I felt like I should confess something to him, because I felt like he needed to hear it.  Like I was disappointed in myself that I didn’t buy designer anything so that I would have something of interest to him.  I didn’t have any drugs, no alcohol, cigarettes, vapes, designer bags, I mean, I really proved up my pedestrianess, didn’t I?


So while I didn’t this time, I have in the past, confessed to things I didn’t do just to ease this inner guilt that I have, with no idea where it comes from...like there is this whole other life that I lead that is 100% fantasy.  I mean, completely and fucking made up in my head.  I felt like in both exchanges that I was letting the officer down by not having more exciting, aka dangerous and illegal shit to report...and while I didn’t this time, felt the urge to lie to make myself seem worse than I am.


And so yes, this is how fucked up I truly am. I am somehow grossly disappointed that I never amounted to more as a gangster/thug.  I mean, I am wholly a complete and utter disappointment when it comes to breaking the law and international intrigue.  I get a fucking F in this department and apparently this inner badass feels grossly and unfairly judged by the reality of my legal compliance.


I avoided causing a scene, instead likely just seemed unnaturally nervous...and weird.  Confirming once again that I do awkward super fucking well.  And so I didn’t have any lie filled confessions this time, but fuck if I didn’t feel like I was supposed to.


I do not know where it comes from, all this guilt, guilt at not being more criminal, guilt at being law abiding.  Just pervasive guilt that plagues my international travel and my every day.  I still do not know where it comes from, I just know it is there, every single day of my life...causing one awkward encounter after another with no real hope of any progress...


Which also feels like a life long mantra...and you know what Imma gonna say...


Again.


Still.





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Glynn Huff
Glynn Huff
(31. 5.)

I’m crying laughing at my sense of belonging with you!!! I got away with everything in my home town. Happens when dad is a judge…. Well my biggest thug act I got caught for was stealing a pair of bicentennial earrings in 1976 from Sears. I didn’t go into another Sears store for at least 12 years in a different state, well into my sobriety, and after my first 5th step (lol!)…. Like I thought my picture was up in their security rooms or something!!! I’ve had your same experience in the customs line leaving Mexico. I mean does anyone really buy anything of expensive value when leaving Mexico?? And yet being caught by natural selection of the green/red light…

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