So… I have a little secret. Actually, I have many secrets all shapes and sizes. Secrets, are intriguing aren’t they? I bet you’re already wondering what my secrets are. For sure, I’m curious if you have secrets...
A dear friend of mine was chatting with her sister on her podcast, “What Friends Do-Kitchen Chats“. Her sister is a therapist and they were talking about when and how to share traumatic experiences with your people.
Her sister was explaining her theory about information. She said, “I want you to imagine a house. Now picture all the different rooms in that house. You have the front porch, the front entry, a living room, maybe even a family room, a kitchen, some bathrooms and bedrooms. She said “now let’s think about all the people that come to your house.” There are front porch people that never come in your house. They ring your doorbell, you answer it and maybe you have a conversation through a screen door. This might be a sales person, a pizza delivery guy, maybe the mailman or somebody doing some work out in your yard. With these people, there’s a limited level of information that you share with them.
These conversation are much different than the conversations you might have with somebody you invite into your front entry or living room, kitchen, and especially your bedroom.
She said I want you to look at all the people in your life and determine whether they are front porch people, front entry people, living room, family room, kitchen or bedroom people.
This was a way to help discern how much information needed to be shared with the different levels of people in your life. It’s unlikely you’re going to share your deepest, darkest secrets with your mailman. Or maybe that is how you roll.
Who are the people that you do share your deepest, darkest secrets with? Is it a spouse, your best friends, family members, maybe a therapist? What are the factors that help determine who is worthy of this vulnerable information?
I would say, my information filter is a little damaged and I am in the repair process. I grew up around alcoholism and I learned a lot about secrets. Secrets were a way of life. Our family would pass around secrets like they were hot potatoes with the expectation you cannot tell anyone else. Have you ever tried to hang onto a hot potato? That shit burns.
I would say my secrets aren’t rooted in deception or shame as much as fear. They feel precious and sacred and maybe a little scary to share with others?
Sharing secrets can feel like holding my heart in my hands and offering it up for someone else to see. What will they do with it? What if they judge it or criticize it? What if they doubt it/me, or accuse me of making up my secrets. What if they laugh or worse…what if they share my secret with others?
On the other hand, what if I share my secret and they say, “Yep! I have that secret too!” Or what if they give me a big hug, say thank you for sharing that with me and here’s my secret. And in that moment, we both are able to settle a little more comfortably into ourselves.
What I’m noticing is that some of my secrets are begging for oxygen. They want to be watered and given sunlight so they can grow. Because of some crazy things that have unfolded recently in my life, all I can do is sit in trust and surrender. So here we go!
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