Why Women Lie Even to Their Best Friends

And here's the price we pay for it.

Published February 26, 2026

Colorful illustration showing a gold chain necklace with three pendants: a green snake charm, a gray speech bubble, and a yellow broken-heart friendship pendant on a bright blue background

Kiersten Essenpreis

Do you tell your best friends everything? Your financial worries, what really goes on behind closed doors in your marriage, things you’ve done in the past that you’re not particularly proud of? Just as important, how well do you really — and I mean really – know your besties, secrets and all?

We all have reasons to lie. I don’t mean little white lies to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. I’m talking about keeping some of the deepest parts of ourselves hidden. While the specifics may vary, most lies are rooted in shame, embarrassment or fear of judgment. As I’ve gotten older, though, I’ve begun to wonder if this prevents the very thing we want most: To feel truly seen.

This thorny question of why we lie and the price we pay for it haunted me enough to write a novel about it, Reasons to Lie. Because female friendships are core to my life, the story is told from the points of view of three women — Abby, Kara and Hollis — who initially bond despite differences in financial, class and relationship status. But when they discover their teenaged children may have been involved in the murder, each of them women must decide how far they will go to protect them, even if it means betraying each other.

As their relationships fray, they realize they may not have known each other as well as they thought they did.

Because Reasons to Lie is a mystery the circumstances are more extreme but the dilemmas are universal. I couldn’t have made it through early widowhood, raising a child on my own and navigating this next phase of life without the support of my friends. Still, I sometimes struggle sharing my deepest fears even with them.

As I dug into the psychology of the three women in the novel, I came to understand the deeper psychological reasons that make us sometimes lie. I had to write a book to figure it out. I’ll try to give you some answers.

Truth #1: When we tell ourselves that we’re lying to protect other people we are often doing it to protect ourselves.

My husband died under mysterious circumstances but all indications are that he was suicidal. Telling my young daughter we didn’t know precisely what happened helped her grieve in an age-appropriate way.

In my own life, though, not being open with other people about how my husband died caused more emotional harm than good. I began to have anxiety attacks because I feared others would judge me for what happened. It was only when I began to open up that people shared similar experiences. Rather than finding judgement, I found solidarity.

While my book character Abby, a single mother, does not go through the same tragedy, she is deeply of a mistake she made years ago and lies about who her daughter’s father is. Though her initial motivation was to protect her daughter, the deeper truth is she didn’t trust her best friends not to judge her for a youthful error.

But telling a lie about your background is not one-and-done; it’s ongoing. My advice: It’s never too late to come clean. Your friends may need time to process it, but in the end, you will have a more honest relationship.

Truth #2: When we hide our insecurities and fears, we internalize the doubts and start believing them ourselves.

I’m blessed. I have a good life and the ability to afford much that so many others cannot. I also have friends who are far more successful financially than I am.

While I try not to compare myself to others, living in a society that emphasizes external markers can make that hard. I’ve struggled to admit to friends that a certain restaurant is too expensive or a trip is out of reach. Instead of remembering that I’m happy with my life choices (being a writer), at times I’ve internalize the feeling of being ‘less than.’

My book is set in an elite Upper East Side private school, much like the one my daughter went to, where status and money rule. It was fun to skewer that environment, but I also wanted to explore its toxic effects. The character Kara is hiding the financial pressure of trying to keep up and gets stuck in a comparison loop. Only when she opens up to even the wealthiest of the three friends does she accept that they value her for other reasons.

Truth #3: Shame eats away at us and can prevent letting others help us when we need it most.

There was a time when seeing a therapist or having a family history of mental illness was stigmatizing. Thankfully, we’re moving past that.

My character Hollis seems to have everything — wealth, a strong marriage, a son she loves — but she’s haunted by childhood trauma and is too ashamed to ask for help. By hiding it, she risks passing that shame along to her son. For me, seeking therapy at various times (See: early widowhood) has been life-changing and it’s something I feel strongly about modeling that for my daughter. If you have an injury — mental or physical — you get help. It’s that simple. And that important.

Truth #4: It’s never too late to have an honest conversation with your family.

Lots of us are tempted to lie to our families often because we fear they may not accept us if they knew who we really are. My teenage characters lie because they’re covering up a murder. But they are also hiding issues of identity. Aren’t we as adults sometimes guilty of the same? You don’t have to spill everything to your family but opening up just a bit more can lead to a new sense of connection.

Writing this book made me face that fear of vulnerability kept me from showing up as my fullest self. Seeing the price my characters pay made me realize it’s worth taking the risk that our best friends will accept us, secrets and all. Ready to share some of your secrets?

Emily Listfield is the author of seven novels and writes frequently about health, fitness, beauty and women’s issues. She can found at emilylistfield.com. Follow her on Instagram at @emilylistfield and Facebook at Emily Listfield.