Lying is often framed as a moral failure – a breach of honesty, a violation of trust. But this framing is superficial. It assumes a coherent self who chooses deception over truth. In many cases, especially chronic or compulsive lying, the issue is not a decision made by a stable individual. The issue is the absence of a stable individual in the first place.
The more fragmented the self, the more likely it is to lie — not because it enjoys deceiving others, but because it has no internal axis around which to revolve. Lying becomes a scaffolding, a temporary architecture to simulate consistency. The lie is not meant to mislead you; it is meant to hold them together.
Let’s dissect this.
I. Identity as a Performance: The Self as an Audience-Dependent Construct
Erving Goffman’s dramaturgical model of identity tells us that the self is not fixed, but performed. We wear masks appropriate to each social context – the workplace, the bedroom, the dinner table. But the healthy individual knows that the mask is just that – a tool, not the face.
In contrast, those with unstable selves confuse the mask for the face. They lose track of who they are without an audience. Their truth is not internal but externalized: they are whatever the situation demands. And when reality doesn’t give them the costume they need, they improvise – they lie.
“The fragmented self does not lie to deceive you. It lies to remain continuous.”
The lie becomes the thread that stitches together all their contradictory performances.
II. Developmental Roots: The Dangerous Cost of Being Real
In many cases, the chronic liar was once a hyper-attuned child in an unsafe emotional environment.
A child who expressed sadness and was told they were being dramatic.
A child who showed joy and was told they were being selfish.
A child whose truth caused disruption – and was punished for it.
They learned early that authenticity is a liability, that honesty endangers connection. So they split. A false self was constructed – one designed to appease, to blend in, to be loved.
Winnicott called this the False Self – a protective shell that adapts to the parent’s needs but kills off the real self in the process. This false self is maintained through calculated presentation and strategic omission – in short, lying.
III. Lying as Emotional Regulation, Not Manipulation
We must abandon the idea that lying is always Machiavellian. In the unstable self, lying is not manipulation – it is emotional regulation.
A person who lies compulsively may be doing so to:
Avoid shame
Maintain fragile esteem
Control rejection
Sustain a coherent narrative where none exists
The lie isn’t always conscious. It emerges reflexively, like a nervous twitch. The truth feels too raw, too destabilizing. And so, fiction becomes a sedative.
“The lie is not a tool of power, but a tranquilizer for chaos.”
IV. The Neurology of Habitual Lying: Emotional Numbing Over Time
A 2016 study in Nature Neuroscience by Speer et al. showed that the more people lie, the easier it becomes – not just psychologically, but neurologically.
Repeated dishonesty dampens amygdala activity, the region associated with guilt and emotional discomfort. Over time, the liar doesn’t just feel less bad – they feel nothing.
But here’s the paradox: they are not emotionally deadened because they are evil – they are deadened because they are overexposed. Lying is a scar tissue response. The psyche forms a callus around the wound of self-incoherence.
V. The Psychological Cost: Dissociation and Identity Fatigue
Living in lies creates what can be called identity fatigue. You must remember:
Who you were to Person A
What you told Person B
Which version of your childhood you mentioned to Person C
This juggling act leads to dissociation – not necessarily the clinical kind, but the subtle erosion of self-awareness.
Lying becomes such a default mechanism that even the liar starts to forget what actually happened. Memory bends toward narrative. Eventually, they don’t know what’s real anymore.
“They don’t lie to others. They lie to stay functional.”
VI. The Inverted Mirror: External Truth as Internal Compass
People with unstable selves have no internal compass. So they outsource their identity to others. They become mirror-hunters:
They wear designer labels not for quality, but for affirmation.
They join ideological groups not for belief, but for belonging.
They curate stories not to reflect reality, but to anchor themselves in it.
Every interaction is a chance to adjust the narrative. Every person is a potential mirror. But when the mirror cracks – when someone calls out the inconsistency – panic sets in. The performance collapses.
VII. From Lies to Personas: Narcissism, Borderline, and Codependency
Different disorders manifest unstable identity in different ways, but lying is a core strategy in all three:
Narcissistic individuals lie to maintain grandiosity. Their lies are often about status, prestige, and entitlement.
Borderline individuals lie to avoid abandonment. Their lies are often about emotional needs and fabricated closeness.
Codependent individuals lie to avoid conflict. Their lies are about preferences, agreement, or false cheerfulness.
Each case is driven by a fundamental fear: If I show the real me, you will leave me, punish me, or hate me.
VIII. The Healthy Contrast: Truth from a Stable Core
In contrast, those with a stable self lie much less. Not because they are morally superior, but because they don’t need to.
They don’t need applause to feel valuable.
They don’t change stories to feel valid.
They don’t perform to avoid exposure.
Truth is not always comfortable, but they can withstand the discomfort because their sense of identity is internal, not situational.
IX. The Exit Ramp: From Fragmentation to Integration
The road out of this labyrinth is not brutal honesty or forced confession. It’s integration.
Integration of memory
Integration of emotion
Integration of identity
The goal is not to stop lying cold turkey. The goal is to create a self stable enough that the truth no longer feels like a threat.
“Only those with an internal spine can afford transparency.”
Closing Thought: Lying is Not the Disease – It’s a Symptom
To mock a chronic liar is to misunderstand the architecture of their suffering. Their dishonesty is not an offense against you – it is a shield against psychic collapse. Their truth is uninhabitable. The lie is a coping mechanism, a scaffolding around a building that was never finished.
But when the scaffolding becomes the house, and they start inviting others in, the damage multiplies.
In the end, the more a person lies, the more it reveals not their cunning – but their instability.
Lying is not about the facts withheld, but the self that is missing.