Lies

     I was always the one who took the blame. This seemed to be job growing-up. If my brother and I had gotten into trouble then I would try to shoulder the burden. Crazy huh? My misguided reasoning for this flaw I am still trying to come to grips with to this day. Even today I feel like it is my duty to be a vessel of absolution for people.
     It has taken years for me to quit saying; "What have I done now?" when someone said my name. This was my way with people. I would just put myself in their back pocket immediately, a voodoo doll for them to stick the pins of their day's angst into. The only reason why I would do this that my pea brain can even rationalize is that I wanted to put everyone at ease. Relieving any perceived pressure personal or situational was my subliminal goal of my statement.
     I often did this to appease my father. He had one of those flash pan tempers. A spark from the ether and he would be set off. Violent yelling usually, maybe something thrown, but he never, ever beat on me or my brother but the tantrums caused me to do everything in my power to prevent them. Taking the blame for anything and everything was the easy way out.
     (Disclaimer: My Dad is a great guy. He/we had our issues when we were both children. He never really grew-up until the end of his third marriage, right around the age of 55. I am very close to him, probably too close but age has smoothed out most of his anger issues and for this I am pleased.)
     There often are things that people do to survive emotionally. Hell; I couldn't not tell lie about the simplest of things until I was thirty. I lied to feel like I was somebody. I would lie about incidental things. That is where the acceptance of fault or blame came from I am sure. But it also came from trying to protect people in my own way. I wanted to save those who I loved by carrying their troubles.
     My first big lie was a doozer. I was seven and had gone to Spokane with my mother for something to do with something but we had ended up on the local noon talk show. You know the cute kids in the studio thing. My brother and I just sat there in chairs and smiled. By the time I had gotten back to Joseph for the first show and tell session of the year it had morphed into me riding in a mechanical version of King Kong. I resolutely told my class about what I had done. They bought it. I am sure my teacher told all the teachers in the teachers' lounge about my tale. I still have no idea why I did this other than to feel important, different - that I mattered somehow. See how this all goes together? See what a mess I am starting from a young age? Why is what I still don't know.