The Weight of the Liar

I want to talk about the challenges of life and the emotions I’ve been carrying lately. I’ve been thinking a lot about how I show up — for myself, my students, my family, my relationships, and my community. And in that reflection, I’ve been confronting the truth that I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’ve lied. I’ve held back parts of myself. I’ve shown people only the versions of me that felt safe or easy to love.

I’ve always believed in vulnerability, but I’m starting to see how I’ve used it in ways that still protected my ego, still kept me looking a certain way. And when I look back — especially at my childhood — I see how much of that came from people-pleasing and trying to uphold an identity that others gave me. I grew up feeling like I was on a pedestal, and instead of feeling proud of that, it made me feel like I had to perform, to maintain an image, to be who people said Aizik was. Somewhere in all that, I lost pieces of myself.

These past few weeks have been heavy. I’ve been reflecting on who I have been versus who I’ve told people I am. I'm sad that I carried certain habits — lying, avoiding, manipulating, yelling, taking up too much space. I’m sad that I let past pain shape how I treated people. I’m sad that it took me until now, at 31, to face this honestly. Maybe it’s maturity. Maybe it’s the relationship I’m in with a woman who is helping me grow. Maybe it’s simply time.

At the same time, I know how far I’ve come. I’ve been in therapy. I’ve learned boundaries. I’ve learned how to take up space in healthy ways. I know I’m not who I used to be — but I also feel like part of me is still fighting the old version of myself. It’s like being pulled between my past identity and the person I’m becoming.

And with that tension comes regret. I know I’ve put people in painful positions. I know I’ve made others feel ashamed, manipulated, confused, used, or unseen. To anyone who has felt that because of me — I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry to my family, my friends, my coworkers, my community. I’m sorry for the lies, the silence, the avoidance, the half-versions of myself I let people meet. I’m sorry that my actions may have caused pain not just to individuals but to the people connected to them as well.

I’ve been overwhelmed lately — by work, by life, by reflection, by expectation, by my own mind. I don’t know if it’s my job or the seasons or the universe shifting, but I’ve been deeply reflective. And in that reflection, I’ve been honest enough to say: I’m tired. I’m tired of carrying guilt, stress, lies, fear. I’m tired of hurting people. I’m tired of holding on to old habits that no longer fit the man I want to be.

What confuses me most is hearing the people in my life say such good things about me. I look at the ways I’ve messed up, and I wonder, How can you still love me? How can you see me as good? How can you want to be in my life? I question myself constantly. I doubt myself. I fight thoughts shaped by depression, by childhood wounds, by years of feeling not enough.

But I also know — deep down — that I’m not a bad person. I’m someone who has made mistakes, who is growing, who is trying. I carry love on my sleeve. I care deeply. I show up for people. I want to bring joy, connection, and presence into the world. And even though there are days when I feel like a little boy still craving attention and love, I’m learning to see that part of me with compassion instead of shame.

I’m realizing how complex we all are. We can be hopeful and scared, confident and anxious, organized and chaotic, loving and flawed — all at once. Life is uncertain, and we make it harder when we constantly chase the next thing instead of being present. Society tells us we’re never enough. Many of us grew up with messages that shut us down — be a man, don’t feel too much, get a real job, be perfect, don’t be lazy, don’t be sensitive.

Those messages stick. They shape us. They follow us. And I carried them for a long time.

But I also recognize the beauty in where I’ve come from — my family, Sacramento, every job I’ve had, every student I’ve taught, every friendship and relationship that shaped me. I wouldn’t erase any of it. It has made me who I am.

So here’s why I’m writing all this:

I want to show people my full self.
I don’t want to be afraid anymore.
I don’t want to keep lying to myself or to others.
I want to step into honesty — even when it’s uncomfortable.

As I think about my future — being a son, being a brother, being an uncle, being a cousin, being a husband, being a parent someday — I know I can’t carry old patterns into new chapters. I have to show up with truth, with integrity, with love. I have to be full myself.

With the holidays coming up, with family time, with expectations and small talk and catching up, I’m choosing honesty. Whoever wants to be in my life will be welcomed with an open door. Whoever doesn’t can walk away — and that’s okay.

I owe myself honesty. And I owe others respect, love, and clarity. I’m going to continue being who I am — imperfect, growing, human. I’m going to make mistakes, but I know how to face them now. I know how to listen, how to apologize, how to reflect, how to repair.

Most importantly, I’m choosing not to be a fucking liar anymore.