Imagine a world where no one could ever lie. A world where only the truth existed. As crazy as this sounds, give it some genuine thought. Crime would be eradicated because no one would be able to hide or lie to get away with something. If a car were stolen, for instance, everyone could ask, “Did you steal that car?” Without the ability to lie, the car thief would be found almost immediately. Corruption in politics? Gone. Corporate greed, too—false advertising, unethical deals, and backdoor business would all disappear. The effect would be enormous: people would realize that bad behavior leads to instant exposure, and eventually, they would stop doing bad things altogether. Infidelity, corruption, and corporate lies would be erased from society.
Imagine a world like that, just for a moment.
Now, back to reality. In our world, deception often seems more abundant than truth. Humans have an innate ability to lie, and ironically, the person we lie to the most is…ourselves. Self-deception is rampant, and the worst part? Most of us don’t even realize it. We tell ourselves stories that make us feel better, justifying our actions and decisions even when they don’t align with our true desires or values.
I believe that deep down, we all know the truth—about ourselves, our choices, and what really matters. It’s often our unwillingness to face these truths that creates internal conflict. Think about those restless nights, the random grumpiness, or the anxiety you can’t quite put your finger on. That’s your mind battling against your self-deception. When we live contrary to our inner truths, we feel it, even if we don’t consciously acknowledge it.
Take the term “sour grapes,” for example. It comes from a fable about a fox who couldn’t reach a bunch of grapes, despite trying every trick he knew. Frustrated, he eventually walks away, convincing himself the grapes were probably sour and not worth the effort anyway. This is self-deception at work—a mental trick to protect ourselves from disappointment. We tell ourselves, “I didn’t really want that anyway,” or “It wasn’t worth it,” to avoid facing the reality that we failed or that something wasn’t within our reach.
In many ways, we live in a society that encourages self-deception. We’re told that we’re all special, that we can do anything, and that success is within everyone’s grasp if we just try hard enough. Failure, or even just being average, is seen as something to avoid at all costs. But the truth is, being average is perfectly fine—most of us are, and that’s part of what makes us human. The problem is that we create stories when we don’t live up to these unrealistic expectations. People don’t often say, “I wasn’t good enough.” Instead, they blame circumstances—injuries, distractions, bad luck, anything that can preserve their self-image.
I know this all too well. I spent years chasing success in every area of my life, convinced that if I just achieved more, it would finally fill the void I felt inside. I was driven by the need to prove myself, a need born from a childhood filled with abuse. Growing up, I was told repeatedly that I wasn’t good enough, that my life didn’t matter. Those words stuck with me. They became the foundation for the lies I would later tell myself as an adult. Every achievement, every accolade was an attempt to outrun that deep-seated belief that I wasn’t worthy.
But here’s the truth: nothing I accomplished ever made me feel whole. No matter how much I achieved—whether it was in my career, sports, or other pursuits—it never filled the emptiness inside. I convinced myself that success would make me feel worthy, but it never did. Every time I reached a goal, I would just move the goalpost. And when I did succeed, my reaction wasn’t pride or joy—it was more along the lines of, “Well, it’s about time.” Nothing was ever enough.
What I didn’t realize back then was that I was lying to myself. The root of my dissatisfaction wasn’t a lack of success; it was a lack of self-acceptance. I had bought into the lie that I needed to be someone special, that I had to prove my worth through external achievements. It took years of introspection and therapy to understand that the real problem wasn’t that I wasn’t achieving enough—it was that I wasn’t accepting who I was.
When I finally stopped chasing success and started focusing on what really mattered—my family, my loved ones—everything changed. I realized that being present for my children, spending time with them, and being there for the small moments in life was infinitely more valuable than any trophy or title I could earn. All the accolades I chased were empty; they were distractions from the truth that I had been running from for so long.
It wasn’t until I became a father that I understood the real meaning of success. I used to think climbing mountains, reaching career milestones, or being the best at something would bring me peace. But the truth is, none of that mattered in the end. What truly fills me with joy now is sitting with my kids, playing board games, watching cartoons, or just being there to pick them up from school. These are the moments that matter—the moments that give life meaning.
Looking back, I realize that my pursuit of success was never about what I really wanted—it was about running away from the lies I had been fed as a child. I spent years trying to prove something to myself and to the world, all while neglecting the things that truly brought me happiness. It wasn’t the career accolades or the adventurous pursuits that made me feel alive—it was love. Love for my children, love for my family, and, eventually, love for myself.
Self-deception kept me trapped in a cycle of dissatisfaction for years. But once I let go of the lies—once I embraced the truth that I am enough just as I am—everything changed. I no longer care about what society thinks, what people expect, or how I’m perceived. I care about spending time with the people I love and living authentically.
The truth matters because it sets us free. Free from the lies we tell ourselves, free from the societal pressures that keep us chasing empty goals, free from the need to be anything other than who we truly are. We’re all enough, just as we are. Once we stop deceiving ourselves and start living in that truth, we can finally find the peace and happiness we’ve been searching for all along.
So, stop lying to yourself. Embrace the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it may be. The truth is where freedom lies. And in that truth, you’ll discover that you are enough, just as you are.