HOW TO COPE WITH A PATHOLOGICAL LIAR? VOTE FOR THE OTHER GUY/GAL

GUEST BLOG / Posted on Healthline.com; written by Adrienne Santos-Longhurst and medically reviewed by Timothy J. Legg, Ph.D., CRNP. 

Pathological lying, also known as mythomania and pseudologia fantastica, is the chronic behavior of compulsive or habitual lying. Unlike telling the occasional white lie to avoid hurting someone’s feelings or getting in trouble, a pathological liar seems to lie for no apparent reason. This can make it frustrating or hard to know what to do if you believe you’ve met one. 

Though pathological lying has been recognized for more than a century, there’s not yet a clear universal definition of the condition. Some pathological lying may result from a mental condition, such as antisocial personality disorder (sometimes called sociopathy), while others appear to have no medical reason for the behavior. 

Defining a pathological liar 

A pathological liar is someone who lies compulsively. While there appears to be many possible causes for pathological lying, it’s not yet entirely understood why someone would lie this way. Some lies seem to be told in order to make the pathological liar appear the hero, or to gain acceptance or sympathy, while there’s seemingly nothing to be gained from other lies. 

Some evidence from 2007 Trusted Source suggests that issues affecting the central nervous system may predispose someone to pathological lying. Compulsive lying is also a known trait of some personality disorders, such as antisocial personality disorder. Trauma or head injuries may also play a role in pathological lying, along with an abnormality in hormone-cortisol ratio. 

 A 2016 study Trusted Source of what happens in the brain when you lie found that the more untruths a person tells, the easier and more frequent lying becomes. The results also indicated that self-interest seems to fuel dishonesty. Though the study didn’t specifically look at pathological lying, it may give some insight into why pathological liars lie as much and as easily as they do. 

The following are some of the scientifically recognized Trusted Source traits and characteristics of pathological liars. 

--Their lies seem to have no clear benefit While a person might lie to avoid an uncomfortable situation, such as embarrassment or getting in trouble, a pathological liar tells lies or stories that don’t have an objective benefit. Friends and family can find this especially frustrating because the person lying doesn’t stand to gain anything from their lies. 

--The stories they tell are usually dramatic, complicated, and detailed Pathological liars are great storytellers. Their lies tend to be very detailed and colorful. Even though obviously over-the-top, the pathological liar may be very convincing. They usually portray themselves as the hero or victim Along with being made the hero or victim in their stories, pathological liars tend to tell lies that seem to be geared at gaining admiration, sympathy, or acceptance by others. They sometimes seem to believe the lies they tell. 

--A pathological liar tells lies and stories that fall somewhere between conscious lying and delusion. They sometimes believe their own lies. It’s difficult to know how to deal with a pathological liar who may not always be conscious of their lying. Some do it so often that experts believe they may not know the difference between fact and fiction after some time. 

--Pathological liars also tend to be natural performers. They’re eloquent and know how to engage with others when speaking. They’re creative and original, and quick thinkers who don’t usually show common signs of lying, such as long pauses or avoidance of eye contact. 

--When asked questions, they may speak a lot without ever being specific or answering the question. 

Pathological lies vs. white lies 

Most people lie at one time or another. Previous research has suggested that we tell an average of 1.65 lies every day. Most of these lies are what are considered “white lies.” Pathological lies, on the other hand, are told consistently and habitually. They tend to appear pointless and often continuous.  White lies, however, are occasional and considered: 

--small fibs 

--harmless 

--without malicious intent 

--Told to spare another’s feelings or avoid getting in trouble 

Some examples of white lies include: 

--saying you have a headache to get out of attending a meeting 

--saying you’ve paid the phone bill when you forgot to pay it 

--lying about why you were late for work 

Pathological lies Pathological lies are: 

--told frequently and compulsively 

--told for no apparent reason or gain 

--continuous 

--told to make the teller appear heroic or the victim 

--not deterred by guilt or risk of getting found out 

Examples of pathological lying: 

--creating a false history, such as saying they’ve achieved or experienced something they haven’t 

--claiming to have a life-threatening illness that they don’t have 

--telling lies to impress others, such as saying they’re related to a famous person.

Identifying a pathological liar in your life 

--Identifying a pathological liar isn’t always easy. While it may be human nature to be suspicious of anything that appears “too good to be true,” not all lies told by pathological liars are over-the-top. They also tell “regular” lies that someone without a compulsion to lie might tell. The following are some signs that may help you identify a pathological liar: 

--they often talk about experiences and accomplishments in which they appear heroic --they’re also the victim in many of their stories, often looking for sympathy 

--their stories tend to be elaborate and very detailed --they respond elaborately and quickly to questions, but the responses are usually vague and don’t provide an answer to the question --they may have different versions of the same story, which stems from forgetting previous details How to cope with a pathological liar 

Knowing a pathological liar can be deeply frustrating because the lying appears to be pointless. It can test the trust in any relationship and make it hard to even have a simple conversation with the person. 

Here are a few pointers to help you handle a conversation with a pathological liar:

 -- Don’t lose your temper As frustrating as it may be, it’s important not to let your anger get the better of you when confronting a pathological liar. 

--Be supportive and kind, but firm. 

-- Expect denial Someone who pathologically lies may have the tendency to first respond with a lie. If you confront them about their lying, chances are that they’ll deny it. 

--They may become enraged and express shock at the accusation. 

 Remember that it’s not about you It’s hard not to take being lied to personally, but pathological lying isn’t about you. The person may be driven by an underlying personality disorder, anxiety, or low self-esteem. 

--Be supportive 

When talking to the person about their lies, remind them that they don’t need to try to impress you. Let them know that you value them for who they really are. 

-- Don’t engage them 

When you notice the person lying, don’t engage them. You can question what they’re saying, which may encourage them to stop the lie at that point. 

You can also let them know that you don’t want to continue the conversation when they’re being dishonest. 

Suggest medical help Without judgment or shaming, suggest that they consider professional help and let them know your suggestion comes from genuine concern for their well-being. 

Be prepared with information about pathological lying, such as a printout of an article or a pamphlet that they can read when they’re ready. Expressing that you’re concerned that their behavior may result from an underlying medical condition may also help. 

Why do pathological liars fascinate people 

A pathological liar is an excellent storyteller and performer. They know how to captivate their audience by telling elaborate and fantastic stories while being very animated. Along with knowing how to weave and express a detailed story, people are also fascinated by what drives a person to lie. It’s natural to want to know why they’re lying, especially when there doesn’t seem to be an apparent reason for their lies. 

Diagnosing a pathological liar 

Diagnosing a pathological liar can be difficult because of the many possible causes of the behavior. Speaking with the person and conducting a medical history and interview isn’t usually enough to make a diagnosis because of the person’s tendency to lie. 

An important part of diagnosing a pathological liar is determining if they recognize that they’re lying or believe the lies they tell. Some professionals use a polygraph, also known as a lie detector test. The test isn’t to catch them in a lie, but to see how well or often they “beat” the polygraph as this suggests that they believe their lies or have become good at using other measures to convince others of their lies. 

Some professionals also interview family members and friends when diagnosing a pathological liar. Treating pathological lying Treatment will depend on whether or not the pathological lying is a symptom of an underlying psychiatric condition. 

Treatment would include psychotherapy and may also include medication for other issues that might be fueling the behavior, such as drugs used to treat anxiety or depression. 

Takeaway 

How to empathize and cope with a pathological liar comes down to an understanding of what may be causing this person to lie while being supportive. It’s likely that the lying is a symptom of another issue that can be treated. Encourage them to get the help they need. 

SOURCE: Healthline.com 

SUNDAY REVIEW / THE MASQUE OF THE ORANGE DEATH/ WITH SINCERE APOLOGIES TO E.A. POE OF BALTIMORE

POE’S CONTAGIOUS CHRONICLES OF CONTAGION 

From the Public Domain with apologies to Edgar Allan Poe Posted here courtesy of Gutenberg.org with editorial license provided by the staff of pillartopost.org daily online magazine. 

The "Orange Death" had devastated the country for four long years. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Orange was its Avatar and its seal combined with the garish hairdo and the horror of combover. The infected blood oozed in orange. Death came with sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores all ending with gasps of intellectual dissolution. The orange stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of hourly cable news segments. 

But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent tower, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. 

A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron to keep the immigrants at bay. The anointed courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress nor egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. 

The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were country/western singers, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Orange Death". 

It was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence. It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. These were seven—an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. 

Here the case was very different, as might have been expected from the duke's love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every 20 or 30 yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor, which pursued the windings of the suite. 

These windows were of stained glass whose colour varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example in blue—and vividly blue were its windows. 

The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements.  The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange. 

 The fifth with white... 

The sixth with violet... 

The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the colour of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were orange—a deep blood orange colour. 

Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire, that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. 

And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all. 

It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to harken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the currently enchanted; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused revery or meditation. 

But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of 60 minutes, (which embrace 3,000 and 600 seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before. 

But, in spite of these things, it was a boisterous and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colours and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary for his ministers to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not. 

He had directed, in great part, the movable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fête; and it was his own guiding taste, which had given character to the masqueraders. 

Be sure they were grotesque sycophants. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm—much of what has been since seen in the fake opera "MAGA-Doom” 

There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. 

There were much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these—the dreams—writhed in and about taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. 

And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away—they have endured but an instant—and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. 

But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood orange-coloured panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulged in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments. 

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. 

MIDNIGHT. 

But now there were 12 strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. 

And the rumour of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise—then, finally, of terror, of horror, disgust and of disenfranchisement. 

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. 

In truth the masquerade licence of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. 

Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the newly arrived stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. 

The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. 

But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Orange Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood orange—and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the ocherous horror. 

Prince Prospero gasps at the arrival of the party crashing Orange Death

When the eyes of the Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which, with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage. 

"Who dares,"—he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him—"who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him—that we may know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from the battlements!" 

It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly, for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand. 

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. 

But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple—through the purple to the green—through the green to the orange—through this again to the white—and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. 

It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. 

He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. 

There was a sharp cry—and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the now orange carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero.   Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave cerements and corpse-like mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form. 

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Orange Death. He had come like a thief in 2016. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Orange Death with his college of electors held illimitable dominion over all.