The Lies You’ve Been Believing Are Holding You Back

It might be time to let some of them go…

It occurred to me one day that I had been believing a lie for most of my life. It was a stupid lie, a simple lie. An innocent lie, if there is such a thing. But a lie nonetheless.

When I was a little girl, we had a beagle named Fritzie. Although Fritzie was the meanest dog I have ever known, I loved all animals so I defended him when my parents talked about “doing something about that dog.”

Fritzie attacked the mail when it came down the chute, often biting our fingers and shredding the mail to bits when we tried to retrieve it.

Fritzie bit my friends so I was not able to have visitors. Fritzie attacked family members if we tried to take his bone or got too close to his bowl at dinner time.

Fritzie often chased me and my sisters onto the top bunk bed where we cowered in the face of his glistening teeth.

One never knew what would set Fritzie off next and obviously something had to change.

My parents took Fritzie to the vet under the pretense that they wanted to see “what was wrong with him” and get some help for him. I thought this was a reasonable thing to do, but I am not sure what I thought a vet could do for a dog who bit even his own pack members. Doggie Prozac, perhaps?

When my parents returned from the vet sans Fritzie (well, duh, what did you expect?) I was horrified and knew what they had done.

“How could you!?!” I screamed, defending a dog that wasn’t cuddly or cute.

“We had no choice,” my parents explained. “Fritzie had a brain tumor — that’s what made him so mean. There was no hope and he couldn’t help his behavior.”

While I was sad that any living creature had to be “put to sleep”, as we called it, this made sense and I was able to accept this decision, thinking it was what was best for Fritzie too.

Now I know you are going to laugh and roll your eyes when I tell you that I believed this story until a few years ago! I am a mother with grown children, a teacher, and the owner of two higher education degrees, yet I often told the story about Fritzie the Beagle who had to be put to sleep because he had a brain tumor that made him aggressive.

After I lost my Labradoodle, Colonel, to a tumor in his neck that was inoperable, it occurred to me that there was no way in 1972 the vet was able to diagnose a brain tumor in Fritzie. Reflecting on what we went through to get Colonel diagnosed and how much it cost, the truth that even if the vet had been able to detect a brain tumor (insert eye roll here), I am certain there was no way my parents would have paid for such an expensive procedure. And I am also certain the vet would not have even suggested such a cause for Fritzie’s unfriendly behavior.

While the realization that the brain tumor story was an imaginative tale fabricated by my parents to soften the blow of losing my pet sunk in, the understanding that I had believed this lie my entire life startled me.

I had never questioned this story because it was what I wanted to believe. It was a lie that helped me deal with pain and loss. I held onto it because it served me.

That one eye-opening revelation started me thinking about what other lies I had chosen to believe and where they had originated from.

A flood of lies

It seemed like once that door cracked open a flood of lies started to reveal themselves. I was shocked at how many I had chosen to believe. They fall into three categories: lies I had told myself, lies told to me by others, and lies that were disguised as spiritual or religious truths.

Since the day I realized my parents had lied to me about Fritzie I’ve been examining so much of what I believe. Turning over long-held understandings about myself, life, faith, God, and looking anew at them the way one would examine a newly found fossil or artifact.

What did each “truth” or belief say about me? What had I never noticed before about this understanding I had grown so accustomed to that I failed to see, really see, it for what it was?

Lies, one by one, were exposed. I chose to acknowledge each one, sit with it to gain understanding, and then like one would blow the dandelion seeds to the wind, I let it go.

There was the lie that my productivity determined my worth. Deeply entrenched, this one took time and patience to exhume. The roots went deep, firmly established through years of performing for my supper, decades of living like a perfectionist. But now I keep a note on my desk that says,

My output does not determine my worth!

It’s a reminder that I am inherently valuable because I am and because I am loved by a Creator who chose to give me life, that my efforts at life do not determine my value.

That leads me to another lie. One I grew up believing because it was repeated over and over: I was an accident. A late-in-life baby, probably a New Year’s Eve oops, it was not uncommon for me to hear growing up, “You were an accident.” Or “You were a mistake.”

One cannot comprehend what those words do to a child. If I was a mistake then how could I be worthwhile, valuable, or have a purpose for being here? I wasn’t supposed to be here so how could it matter what I did or didn’t do with my life?

And I lived that way. Always downplaying my abilities or talent. Never reaching for a star, a goal, let alone the moon. Misunderstanding how important my life was to my family and friends, never really knowing how much God loved me.

Mistakes were bad, something to be avoided or fixed so I invested my time and energies into being better, always striving to be the best I could be in order to prove I was not a mistake.

It’s a shameful thing to be told you are a mistake — even in jest — and perfectionism found a solid tap root to sink deeply into my psyche. Just one more thing, if only, and I’ll try harder became mantras of my existence, stealing the joy from now and the hope from tomorrow.

I’m thankful for the unveiling of my eyes, the ability to see the truth, to start over with a new understanding of who I am, why I am here.

I’ll wrap this up with one more lie that I had believed my whole life and that was the trap of a scarcity mindset. I write about this in the article below but I’ll touch on it here because I know many people from all walks of life that believe this lie.

Raised by parents who lived through the Great Depression and childhood trauma, scarcity was an entrenched mindset in our home, and one my parents passed down to all their children.

My mother was always penny-pinching and lived in constant dread that money would run out. It didn’t help that my father was a compulsive gambler and didn’t understand the fear that his habit produced in my mother’s heart. Arguments about money and the phrase, “We can’t afford it.” were staples in our home.

I developed this scarcity mindset and lived it too, even though my needs have always been met — often well above and beyond. It’s only been the last few years through reading books like The Soul of Money and meditating on God’s abundance that I’ve started to move away from this mindset.

The lie of scarcity is a trap. It keeps anyone who believes it entombed in fear and it is the reason many are entrenched in a poverty mindset and lifestyle.

For those who have wealth but still possess a scarcity mindset, they become hoarders or selfish because enough is never enough for the scarcity mindset.

And you will know the truth and the truth will set you free. (John 8:32, ESV)

Knowing the difference between a lie and the truth will open the cage door so you can fly into freedom. Parting the veil between these lies and the truth of who you are will help you walk in your true identity. I’m walking there myself, care to join me?