I had a very honest conversation about the concept of lying with a student one day. As much as he admitted that his home valued honesty and his religion called for honesty, he couldn’t help but admit that lying had become a way of life for him.

In his world, he believed lying kept him safe, protecting him from judgment he couldn’t bear to feel. Lying was as logistical as putting on a coat to protect yourself from the cold. I inquired, “If you feel you have to lie to everyone to keep yourself from being judged, then is there anyone who truly knows you?” The answer was quick and definitive, “no.”

“If no one knows you, how well would you say you know yourself?” That question prompted a smile. “Well, that’s stupid; of course I know myself. I am in my own head.”

There was a lot to unpack in our conversation, and it got me thinking. How often do humans lie to themselves for the sake of making life easier, more bearable, or less painful? How do we choose to recollect and define ourselves at the end of the day? Do we make ourselves the victim, hero, winner, or complete loser? How do we use our lies to retell the tale of every conversation or exchange of glances to protect ourselves?

Like the young man mentioned, we all hate feeling judged. And frankly, the greatest critic we face is often ourselves. We carry a fragility that is so afraid of breaking that we would rather avoid the truth, make up a lie, and tell it so many times we cement it into a reality we can accept. Just like the Wizard of Oz, we are all just a person behind the curtain projecting an image of strength for the world to see.

This may seem like an effective shelter from the storm of insecurities you feel, but with every choice comes a price. The cost of lying to ourselves is trust. We sabotage the trust others have in us and, perhaps more importantly, the trust we should have in ourselves.

Trusting ourselves to be authentic, filled with mistakes, misconceptions, curiosities, idiosyncrasies, and confusion means we believe we are strong enough to evolve into a better version of the person we were yesterday. If we are merely preserving the “self” we want the world to see, we are not getting a chance to know the “self” that remains when the armor falls and our vulnerability becomes exposed.

When you feel the need to waste your energy on the protection of perfection, remember the flower honesty. It is the name of a European plant with purple or white flowers. It received its name from its seed pods, which are translucent, symbolizing a lack of deceit. Yes, even in nature, beauty does not come from concealing flaws; it comes from unveiling who you are at your roots so that, like honesty, you can bloom and expose your exquisite, authentic self.