When the People You Love Lie to You — And Why It Hurts So Deeply

There are a lot of things we can work through in relationships. Miscommunication. Distance. Bad days. Even conflict.
But for me—and maybe for you too—being lied to by someone I love hits differently.

Lying feels like one of the worst things someone can do, especially when it comes from someone you trust. And I don’t mean the kind of lie where someone avoids a question because they aren’t ready to share yet. That still hurts, but there’s at least a sense of protection there. I’m talking about being lied to directly, without warrant. Looking you in the eye and saying something that isn’t true.

That kind of lie lands in your body. It stays with you.

Why Lying Hurts So Much

When someone lies to us, the pain isn’t just about the lie itself. It’s about what the lie threatens.

Trust.
Safety.
Reality.

When someone we love lies, it can make us question our own instincts. Did I miss something? Am I overreacting? Can I trust myself? Suddenly the ground feels less steady, and that’s incredibly unsettling.

Lies can also feel deeply personal, even when they aren’t meant to be. They can bring up thoughts like:

• Was I not worth the truth?

• Do you think I’m weak or naïve?

• What else don’t I know?

And when lying happens repeatedly—especially in the context of addiction or mental health struggles—it can slowly erode the sense of emotional safety in a relationship. You may find yourself always bracing, always scanning for the next shoe to drop.

That’s exhausting.

So Why Do People Lie?

This is where things get complicated—and softer.

Most people don’t lie because they want to hurt you. They lie because they’re scared.

They’re afraid of disappointing you.
They’re afraid of consequences.
They’re afraid of being seen fully.
They’re afraid of losing the relationship.

For someone struggling with addiction, lying can become a survival skill—one that once served a purpose but now causes harm. For someone dealing with mental health challenges, honesty may feel overwhelming or unsafe. And for others, lying may be something they learned long before they ever learned how to be emotionally honest.

Understanding why someone lies doesn’t excuse the behavior. But it can help us hold two truths at once:

• The lie hurt me.

• The lie may not have been about me.

The Part We Carry (Even Though It Isn’t Ours)

One of the hardest parts about being lied to is what we carry afterward.

Hypervigilance.
Resentment.
Doubt.
Anger.
Grief for the relationship we thought we had.

And here’s the unfair part: the person who lied gets to move on, while the person who was lied to often holds the weight.

I struggle with this too. Letting go can feel impossible when the pain feels unresolved, when there’s no real repair, or when the truth came too late. It can feel like letting go means minimizing what happened—or saying it didn’t matter.

But letting go isn’t about excusing the lie. It’s about releasing yourself from carrying something that was never yours to hold.

How Do You Let Go When It Still Hurts?

There’s no quick answer here. And honestly, if someone tells you to “just forgive and move on,” they probably haven’t been where you are.

Letting go starts with naming the hurt. Not pushing it down. Not rationalizing it away. Just acknowledging: This hurt me.

It also means separating your worth from someone else’s capacity for honesty. Being lied to does not mean you’re too much, too emotional, or not enough. It means someone else didn’t—or couldn’t—show up truthfully.

You’re allowed to set boundaries.
You’re allowed to take space.
You’re allowed to decide what honesty means for you moving forward.

And sometimes, letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It means choosing not to let the lie define you, your future relationships, or your sense of self.

You’re Not Weak for Caring

If you’re reading this and thinking, Why does this still affect me so much?—please hear this: caring deeply is not a flaw. Wanting honesty from the people you love is not unreasonable. And struggling to move on from betrayal doesn’t mean you’re stuck; it means you’re human.

You’re not wrong for wanting truth.
You’re not broken for feeling this deeply.
And you’re not alone in this.

Healing from being lied to takes time, patience, and often support. And while the pain may not disappear overnight, it can soften. It can loosen its grip. And one day, it won’t weigh the same.

If this resonates with you, Abbey Rose Therapy is a space where these conversations are welcome—where your experiences don’t need to be minimized or rushed.

Sometimes healing starts with simply being honest about how much it hurt.

Warmly,

Abbey Vince, AMFT