The Stomach Problems Were Real. That's Not The Point.
On integrity, white lies, and the slow erosion of a life lived slightly out of alignment
If you’ve ever told a technically true story that was somehow still a lie, this one’s for you.
One of my favorite books is The Way of Integrity by Martha Beck. The kind of book that sits with you long after you’ve finished it, nudging you toward a life that feels truer and cleaner and more like actually you. God I love books.
Living in integrity sounds simple. It is not simple. It requires a level of mindfulness that runs completely counter to how most of us are wired. And it can unravel over something as small as a white lie you told about your stomach.
I told someone I couldn’t make it to dinner with a big group because of stomach problems.
Now. The stomach problems are real. They’re part of my chronic illness and I deal with them daily. Technically valid excuse. Completely defensible.
But the actual reason?
My husband is out of a job and the weight of that uncertainty has left me feeling raw and fragile and wanting nothing more than to curl up and disappear for the evening. A big group dinner felt impossible. Not because of my stomach. Because of my everything.
That felt like too much to explain. So I reached for the easier excuse. The one that was true but incomplete.
And while the lie wasn’t a betrayal to them, it was a betrayal to myself.
What I Could Have Said Instead
Something like: you know, I’m going through a tough time right now and I can’t muster the energy for a big group tonight. Can we do just the three of us next week?
That’s it. Honest, simple, not oversharing, not performing wellness I don’t have.
Most people respond to that with more warmth than they respond to stomach problems. People tend to recognize real even when they can’t name it.
The problem isn’t the single white lie. One stomach problems excuse is not a character flaw, I get that.
The problem is the building. The stacking. The layering of these tiny infractions that over time create a life lived slightly out of alignment with yourself.
Martha Beck calls it an erosion. And she’s right. It’s so gradual you don’t notice it until the foundation feels shaky and you can’t quite figure out why.
The Experiment
Lately I’ve been giving myself small manageable experiments in integrity. Not a week, not a lifetime commitment. Just half a day. A handful of hours to practice leading with my truest self and see what happens.
The results aren’t dramatic. They’re subtle. A kind of quiet check-in with myself throughout the day.
Am I saying what I actually mean?
Does this feel true in my body or is there that familiar tension in my chest?
I’ve found is that living in integrity feels better, not easier.
But better.
It creates a little more space where tension it used to living. Alignment that feels right in a way that’s hard to articulate but completely unmistakable once you’ve felt it.
The white lie feels like a small relief in the moment and a low-grade unease afterward. The truth feels uncomfortable in the moment and clean afterward.
The beauty of practicing integrity in small moments is that it stacks. Just like the lies stack, the truth stacks too. And what you build over time is a foundation of authenticity that doesn’t just feel good.
It feels like freedom.
Not perfection. Not some idealized version of yourself that never reaches for a convenient excuse.
The daily act of coming home to yourself.
Even when your stomach is fine and you know it.
My Current Obsessions A little treat for making it to the end.
📖 Reading: The Way of Integrity by Martha Beck. I love all of Martha’s books, so you’re really good with any and all of them. They’ve changed my life.
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