"Liar" — A Painting Born from the Fear of Not Being Believed

Liar came from a story buried deep in my early childhood. It’s one of those memories that still lingers under the surface even when life feels good. A part of me that shaped the anxiety I carry. The fear of disappointing people. The fear of not being believed.

When I was four years old, my mom lost both of her parents back-to-back. I think the

grief broke something in her. I don’t blame her anymore, but it’s taken me years to say that and mean it. She wasn’t able to take care of me and my sister after that. So she gave us away. Just like that. To a woman I had never met before. A woman who said she was a Christian. A child of God. A friend of the family.

That woman would go on to cause more pain than I knew how to hold as a child. The abandonment was enough, but the trauma that followed was worse. She would beat us for things we didn’t do. Blame us for things we couldn’t control. I lived in fear every single day. Praying to the God she believed in to bring my mother back. I would lay awake at night thinking of ways to escape with my little sister. Imagining someone, anyone ... finding us and taking us away from that house.

But one of the worst parts was the way she made me believe I was a liar. Even when I told the truth. Even when I begged her to believe me. She would look me in the face and say I was lying. And over time…I believed her.

Years later, when my uncle came to get us ... our saving grace ... he told me something I had forgotten. He said we stopped at a gas station on the way home. He looked at me and said I looked so small, so broken. And I told him, without him even asking, "I’m a liar. "He asked me why I would say that. And I just said, “I just am.”

I didn’t know any different. I thought that was who I was. It shaped the way I lived. I became quiet. Afraid to speak up. Afraid to tell people how I felt. Afraid that if I did, they wouldn’t believe me.

Liar

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This followed me into adulthood. I didn’t connect the dots for years. I just thought something was wrong with me. That I was just sensitive. But it wasn’t until I started therapy and learned about healing your inner child that it all started to make sense.

That’s where Liar came from. It’s not just a painting. It’s a reflection of trauma. A mirror of pain. And most importantly…a step toward healing.

Liar was the first painting I created that told a story this personal. The first time I let that wounded little girl have a voice through art. It’s a 24x36 acrylic painting. And it was my first large scale piece. But more than anything, it was the beginning of a new chapter.

The chapter where I no longer carry shame for what happened to me. The chapter where I take the power back. The chapter where I stop calling myself a liar.

If you’ve ever been silenced, if you’ve ever lived in fear, if you’ve ever questioned your worth because someone told you who you were before you had a chance to figure it out yourself…

This painting is for you too.

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