Fitting in.

We were all in the kitchen at night time, Tanner (oldest bro), Erin (oldest sis), KT (twin sis), and I.

I’m pretty sure this was during some sort of family gathering because why else would the kids be hiding away in the kitchen? So like usual Tanner comes up with a game. He probes Erin on the idea that it would be a laughing riot if they tried to fit one of the twins into the oven. Erin agrees, grinning in her multicolor braces. By this time in Erin’s life, she truly didn’t care if Tanner tormented us. She was considered our full time babysitter, a role put on her by our parents without refusal so of course she had a vindictive spirit. Also, Tanner had once tormented her so it was nice to have the roles reversed.

So, KT was the first one in, I’m watching from behind. They slowly take the racks out and put a tray on the bottom for KT to kneel on. She successfully fits her tiny little body into the whole oven. Tanner then slams the oven door, locks it, turns on the light signaling the oven is on “bake mode” and screams at KT. “YOU’RE COOKING, YOU’RE COOKING” while maliciously roaring with laughter and Erin his trusty sidekick does the same. KT is left thinking she is burning alive, she starts bashing against the glass and I’m left outside to watch the horrific sight in tears shrieking as loud as possible. “STOP IT! LET HER OUT!” After a minute of horror KT is let out of the oven gasping for air and drowning in tears.

Tanner looks at me, Kyle you wanna go next?...

Okay, so this was a constant problem when I was a kid. I went above and beyond to get noticed. Even when it was as dumbfounded as this. For the record. Yes I climbed into the oven, and I played along like I was burning alive too just so I could receive a sliver of attention. But why did I need to do this? I think I’ve come to a conclusion...

Almost every single night my family would dine at the dreaded dinner table. At the dinner table we would spew about our days. Where we would freely argue, scream, cry, and laugh.. you know, family stuff. The one person that really shined at our table was Tanner. Tanner constantly told elaborate hilarious stories that would have everyone in stitches or tears. Erin was second runner up as the brains of the family, and KT & Mom would tell stories here and there. Dad and I on the other hand were the quiet ones. We sat back and enjoyed ourselves. Or at least that’s how I thought of it. Like it was our role.

Truth is I never wanted to just enjoy, and I don’t think my dad either. I wanted to be a part of the action. I wanted to be heard, To be seen! My dad's fate was set in stone long before I came around. Once my dad started talking it would take him forever to set up his story, my brother Tanner would usually then say things like, “Oh my god, and THEN WHAT? Hurry it up pops, It’s almost bedtime!” At this point my Dad would reply with a chuckle, “Never mind, I already forgot”. And brush it off, never finishing.

Overtime I think it truly affected my Dad's ability to hold a dinner conversation, but only at our table. At family friend's parties he would come alive! You couldn’t get him to stop talking, or turning red from laughing so hard. I don’t know if he was conscious of it but I feel like my Dad was let out of Jail when he was at these social gatherings away from our family.

It was the same story for me. My siblings would say things to me like “You don’t know what you’re talking about” or “You’re making no sense”. But around my friends at school, they didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with my speech, I didn’t either! But as soon as I sat down at the table, put the napkin on my lap, I looked up into my family’s faces. I shut down.

Now my parents didn’t really go to battle for me all the time and I think it’s because it became too overwhelming to argue with Erin and Tanner on how my stuttering or my broken speech truly was hard to listen to. But there was someone who was interested in what I had to say.

Uncle Chas.

Uncle Chas is one of my favorite people on this planet. He stands about 5’6. Bald on top, hair on sides, huge bushy eyebrows. With a raspy jewish Philadelphia accent. See? He’s adorable.

Uncle Chas and his wife, my Aunt Pattie were the closest family we had. They lived just a couple blocks from us in their massive home in Sea Cliff. They were the wealthy side of my life. Now even though my family wasn’t, I still felt like I was, because I was exposed to it.

Because they were wealthy they went all out. Uncle Chas made sure he had all the toys stocked up in his garage, from Squirt Guns, to Nerf Guns, Dodgeballs, and Tennis. He made sure all of us kids were active. I think it’s because he and Aunt Pattie never had kids. We were the kids they had part time. And he loved playing with us! Uncle Chas also had really great stories to tell. If one of us was explaining what happened at school today, he would top it off with something even more elaborate and outrageous. Example, how he saved a teacher that day from a burning car! That’s when Tanner or Erin would chime in, “you’re lying!” Uncle Chas would laugh and say “Honest to god!” and eventually crack up and say “Hah, yeah, I’m just joking”

The way Uncle Chas got a reaction out of my siblings was exactly what I wanted. I was horrible at trying to remember what It was that I did that day, or how I could describe it in a story. With lying, I could just make up whatever story I wanted and If they found out big whoop! I’ll just call it “Kidding”.

“Kidding” turned into my new best friend. It was the comforting feeling that I needed to feel sure of myself. I started telling story after story at the dinner table and not one person caught on. Baby Kyle had figured it out for himself. He’s a Story Teller!

I lived in an imagination. An alternate reality. I got so good at it to the point that if I told you a very detailed story about my day during 1st grade one month ago, I would remember every part of it. Well mostly. My brother Tanner was the first one to catch on. I think it’s because Tanner saw himself in me and was trying to protect me from the dangers of being a liar. Tanner started to ask me questions, detailed questions about the lies I was spewing. Eventually, he caught me in a Lie.

The day he did I had a choice. Do I reverse quickly and say “Ok, ok, you got me!” with my hands up. Or do I pull the old Uncle Chas. “You’re right Tanner! I’m just joking!” No, I couldn’t do that because by then I had been lying for a few months. They would ask about all the other stories I told! I would defend this one so I could keep my spotlight at the Dinner Table! From then I’ll try my best to start telling the truth again. And so I did. Tanner read right through me, and I couldn’t stop the lies.

It became a lifestyle. I lived in my lies, Clinically I was a pathological liar. Telling multiple people the same story, or making new ones up on the fly. To this day I still get nervous sitting at the Dinner Table. Even though I’ve paid thousands of dollars in therapy, sat through many meditations, read almost every self help book known to man to help me battle my demons.

This demon has stuck with me.

I became so confident in these stories that it mended my broken speech patterns. They became synonymous with healing. I fell in love with lies. But a few more months into my lies and my whole family eventually caught on.

Instead of the normal “You’re making no sense Kyle” or “Slow down Kyle you’re talking to fast”. It became, “Stop Lying!” Let me tell you. It felt a million times better to be called out for a lie rather than not being able to speak well.

The first lie that truly fucked with me and I saw the absolute importance of why honesty is superior was when I lied about being molested to my first love. Max. I’ll never forget that moment. I was 14 and it was the final moment in our relationship. The lie was created so that we would bond over something that could be nourished and kept secret. So that our love would become stronger and more resilient to conflict and pain. Fact of the matter is it tore us apart. I can’t remember exactly why I came clean, I just remember how painful it was to come clean. Even more so painful because that's the first time I’ve ever been slapped in the face by a boyfriend. And I deserved it. Max left my house and he also left his trust behind. A week later my first love left me.

I have no idea why I made that lie up to this day. I can try to process and analyze why it happened and the only reason is maybe just the fact I lived in my lies for so long they just started to think for me. They became a split personality that would decide for me what scenarios I needed in my life so that my life was more exciting and or dramatic. That happened when I was 14, The lying continued until I got sober at the age of 24. During that time period I put myself into therapy into which I dove into trauma and discovered how toxic lying had become. Even though after that instance with Max I kept telling myself everyday to stop lying, try and be honest everyday. It was like it was written into my genetic code. I was sick.

In therapy I learned to cope with my lies. Now I catch myself the second after I tell it and say “Just Kidding” or “I’m lying”. Everyday I practice this I get closer and closer to my goal of living a wholesome honest life. I can’t wait for the moment when they don’t just pop out of my mouth anymore. Btw this whole story has been a lie so far.

Just Kidding.