Why Do Addicts Lie to the People They Love?

Why do addicts lie to the people they love? I can only answer for me, because I was the liar. Sixteen years sober now, and the answer is not what you think.

This is lived experience from one recovery, not medical advice.

I lied to my family every day, and I was good at it. Not accidentally good. On purpose. I practiced. I worked at those lies the way you'd work at anything you needed to be excellent at. So when my family missed it, they didn't miss anything. There was nothing to catch. The lie was built so there would be nothing to catch.

I want you to sit with that, because I know what families do with this question. They replay conversations. They ask themselves how they didn't see it. They decide they must have been naive, or willfully blind, or stupid. You weren't. The whole point of my lying was to make sure there was nothing there for you to see.

What the lie was actually for

I wasn't lying because my family was easy to fool. The lie protected the using. That was its job. Anything that threatened the using got a lie built around it, and my family threatened the using more than anyone, because they were closest.

And the lie hid something else too: a shame I couldn't say out loud. I couldn't tell the truth about what I was doing because I couldn't stand to look at what I was doing. The lie covered both at once, the using and the shame underneath it.

It was never about what they were worth. Let me say that plainly, because I know how it feels from the other side. When somebody lies to your face for years, it feels like a verdict on you. It wasn't. It was never about what you were worth.

The part that took me years to admit

Here's the hardest piece, the one I couldn't say for a long time. The easiest person for me to lie to was the person who wanted to believe me.

My lies worked because my family loved me. That's the mechanic of it. Their belief wasn't stupidity. It was love doing what love does. Love leans toward trusting. Love gives the benefit of the doubt. I took that and I used it, and that's on me, not on them.

None of this excuses it

I want to be clear about something. Explaining a lie is not excusing it. None of this excuses it. The lying was wrong, and getting sober meant learning to tell the truth, which turned out to be one of the hardest parts of the whole thing. Sixteen years in, telling the truth is still a practice I take seriously, because I know what I was capable of without it.

If you believed someone like me

Hear this. You were never the fool. The lie needed love to work. That was never your fault.

And if your gut is talking to you right now, listen to it. Your gut was never the liar.

If things are heavy right now

If you're carrying questions like this one, you don't have to carry them by yourself. SAMHSA's free helpline is 1-800-662-4357, 24/7, for treatment questions and family guidance. If you or someone you love is in crisis, call or text 988, or text HOME to 741741.

Why Haven exists

When I was the one lying, my family had no support at all. Nobody told my mom that believing her son wasn't stupidity. That's why I built Haven, an app for the families and loved ones of people in addiction. Haven opens August 24, and the waitlist is open at joinprojecthaven.com if you want a place like that.