White lies aren’t always so “white” – to ourselves

For example, telling people in this conservative, inward-turned small town and county where I now, half-forced, live, that “I’m OK” when they ask is a white lie. To them.

I’m not hurting any of them by it. And, unfortunately, my job as a community newspaper editor probably requires it.

But, I don’t honestly feel I can tell people that sometimes I hurt like hell. I don’t trust.

I don’t trust them to understand me; I don’t trust them to not generalize beyond my hurting to take offense and umbrage on behalf of their city and county; I don’t trust them to listen to me, even if I don’t understand; I don’t trust them not to offer “solutions” that aren’t solutions for me, such as invitations to their churches, etc.

So, I hurt. Politically-oriented friends in College Station, some of whom are some kind of personal friends/acquaintances, help. But sometimes, College Station seems like the far side of the moon.

“I’m OK” is a non-white lie to me, when I’m not “OK.”