I Have An Honesty Problem

I have an honesty problem.

It isn’t that I’m a liar. Far from it. I value honesty highly and if I tell a lie I can’t settle until I’ve owned up.

I’m the person who didn’t want to accept a Facetime call but didn’t want to hurt my friend’s feelings and so I texted him to say that I was in the bath – but had to go and stand in the bath to send that text because I didn’t want to lie to him. And yes, I even owned up about that the next day.

No, my problem is that I feel like I’m a liar even when I know that I have told the truth.

So, when I come back through customs after a holiday and choose the ‘nothing to declare’ route, I’m not completely convinced I am telling the truth, despite being a law-abiding citizen. I know that the only souvenirs that I have brought back are fridge magnets, branded back scratchers and novelty sweets, but what if someone accidentally laced those sweets with heroine without my knowledge? What if a small child crept into my bag without me knowing, lured in by the glittery fridge magnet that I purchased, and I am accidentally involved in human trafficking?

I’m sure I feel more guilty walking through those arrival gates than a hardened drug smuggler.

And then there’s that question on internet sites about whether I am a robot. I mean, I bleed, I hurt and I experience emotions so I am pretty sure that I am human, but when faced with the robot question I lose my ability to think. I’m required to identify which squares contain traffic lights, but I am not sure whether the poles are part of the traffic lights. When expected to click on the squares that contain mountains, I am unsure how much of a lump on the horizon is required. And my eyesight is way too poor to spot the parking meters. So now, when faced by the question ‘Are you human?’ I experience liar’s guilt before I’ve even given my response.

Then there are the times when something goes wrong at work. Maybe someone accidentally deleted an important file or something has been broken and no-one knows who has done it. Even though I know the circumstances make it impossible for me to be the culprit I feel the need to say, ‘I don’t think it was me, but I suppose it could have been’. I find it necessary to add the disclaimer in case I actually walked into the office, broke the stapler and in a fit of anger at the world for making me so clumsy, I deleted a random file just to inconvenience those less clumsy than myself. It’s possible that all of this happened and I’ve forgotten surely? So I’d best add the disclaimer.

Now we’ve got all of that out of the way, I have to be up front with you all about something that I have done intentionally. Aspen Swann is not my birth name. All of the stories personal stories and anecdotes that I write about will 100% true, I promise. But for both professional and personal reasons I am forced to write under a pen name.

And now you’ve had a little insight into the workings of my brain you will understand why my pen name is playing on my mind.

But at least I’ve been honest about it.