One of the unfortunate lessons I have learned in life, I learned in unfortunate ways. Unfortunately.
It is: not everyone will tell the truth about you.
It has broadly helpful applications, but it’s not always something I recognize right away. I’m getting better at seeing it earlier, though. Age and wisdom and whatnot.
It is akin to the oft-repeated “You are not responsible for the version of you other people have created in their minds.”
The first time I grappled with the concept, I saw the liar’s lie for what it was. But it distressed me because I didn’t know the fix was so much easier than changing the liar’s mind. The solution was changing mine.
My ex-husband called me a “deadbeat wife” once. A former co-worker who fancied herself my boss (she should have taken the organizational flowchart out of my desk drawer before I was hired) told another co-worker “Emily didn’t do anything anyway” when I quit.
I realize now these arrows pierced me because I was, at that time and for the most part, a Type A personality.
The heck you mean I don’t do my part when I’m also doing 85% of yours?
What it took me much longer to realize is that they weren’t lying about me so much as lying to themselves. I was free to remove myself from the situation completely.
And so I did.