Is honesty overrated?

When I was a child I was a pathological liar.

I lied all of the time over the most ridiculous things, like “Were you just out in the rain?” “No,” as I am standing in the center of a growing puddle. I heard the story about the boy who cried wolf so many times, I swear to the heavens I thought it was invented for me.

Oddly and I suppose fortunately, I somehow grew into an incredibly honest adult. Honest to the point that I often share information that is definitely not needed. It’s really not necessary to explain to a roomful of people why the bathroom smells and that you’re the one who is responsible. Sounds crazy, but I cannot stop myself.

Which leads me to my latest dilemma, which is far worse than admitting I left the stench. Simply put, I suck at life and hurt someone very close to me. I told the truth as I always do. But this time, I don’t think it was the right choice. It’s now this thing that’s between us and it will always be.

Am I just a coward who pretends to be brave? I guess, for me, honesty has always been a way at learning to like myself. Like if I can admit my faults, or my mistakes to others than I could deal with them myself. A way to stop pretending to be someone else, something I did for a very long time.

But telling the truth in this instance, has not helped me to like myself. And it has not made me or the person I hurt closer. It’s pushing us apart.

So is honesty overrated? If you slip up, have a momentary lapse in good sense, fall down, hard, mind you (like free fall from 60 feet), is it better to swallow the guilt, to suck it up and move on than risk shattering the happiness and sense of security of someone else?

I am beginning to think yes.