Less than promised, more than I expected

Is there a specific time in our lives that we become comfortable with lying? Not just lying to others, but lying to ourselves. Is it when we learn that pointing at our siblings can sometimes deflect the blame for the food on the ceiling, or holes in the wall? Do we learn it, and do it at a young age in order to avoid letting our parents know that we have done something we know we shouldn't have done? So we don't disappoint them? Do we learn to tell lies in order to avoid letting down those that are the most important to us?

As I think about it, I have told the worst lies for that reason. I have not told lies in order to get anything or to get anyone. Sometimes it feels like the people that I am most honest with are strangers, because I don't care about their opinion at all. It's only when it was something that involved my friends or family that I instinctively feel the need to either hold back the whole truth or to exagerate it. I guess the biggest lie is the one that I keep telling myself. I seem to believe that my friends and family can't read me, don't know me, or could somehow be so disappointed in me that they would leave. Even now, as I write this, I'm scared of what people that read it may think about me.

I spent so much of my life lying to myself about being happy. I lied to myself about the things that people did to me, tried to hide the fact that I saw what was happening because I was embarassed that I hadn't done anything about it, scared about anyone seeing how I let myself be treated like crap. Again, I should have trusted that my friends and family knew it and were ready to help me. Live and learn I suppose.