Secrets

Secrets. They are funny things. In treatment you are constantly asked to tell the truth and not keep them. You are reminded over and over that you are as sick as your secrets. You are encouraged and expected share your real thoughts and feelings all the time. Yet, if you were to do the same thing outside of those four walls, you would surely be shunned.

 

The very young are advised "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." and the very old have their comments attributed to a declining ability to filter. For the rest of us, it is a path of hot coals that we traverse as we try to determine the acceptable level of truth in each situation. When someone ask " How are you?", do they really want to know or or is it just the current equivalent to "Hello"? Someone else asks "What do you think?". Are they actually asking for your opinion or do they just need someone to agree with their point of view? It can truly be a slippery slope - especially if you guess wrong.

 

What is a girl to do? Keeping secrets also means wearing a mask. It prevents you from being honest with those around you - even when that is what you want the most. I used to think it was my best protection ever. As long as I had my secrets, I was safe. I could remain silent as the world around me spun in chaos. If no one knew what I really thought or felt. I thought I couldn't be hurt because no one knew me well enough to know how to hurt me. But, that was also the problem. No one knew me well enough to know when I was hurt or scared so no one could offer comfort. No one knew when I needed help, so no one helped. No one knew where I went when I needed to think and no one knew when I didn't want to be alone so no one went looking for me. And, no one knew when I was happy, so they couldn't celebrate victories with me. The very wall of secrets that I had built to keep me safe was the same one that kept me isolated and was slowly killing me.

 

Then one day I either got very brave or vary tired (I'm still not sure which). I told someone one of my secrets and then sat back to see what would happen. I didn't spontaneously combust and they didn't run screaming from the room. In fact, they said that they already knew (or at least had an idea). As time goes on, I pick and choose who I trust and who I share with. Sometimes I have good experiences and sometimes I chalk it up to learning experiences. When you share those parts of yourself with the right people, they are more willing to share parts of themselves with you as well. On the whole, it's been a very liberating experience and a lot less lonely.