OYM Day 10: Secrets, Secrets, Are Lots of Fun
I keep a lot of secrets. Some are mine, some are not. I think about the first secrets to be whispered behind (likely) hairy backs. “He’s cheating on her with the Neanderthal two caves down!” I’m fairly certain that secrets don’t do much good, especially if they’re about other people. Secrets of the self, though. That’s what I’m really curious about.
Do you remember that episode of Sex & The City where Carrie asks the gals what they do when they’re completely alone? What’s their secret habit? And she says she stands in her kitchen, in her underwear, eating a stack of saltines one at a time? And she blushes and giggles like she’s the wildest girl about town? Honestly, what the fuck was that? THAT is your big secret?! The thing you hide?!
I will eat a stack of saltines, naked, in front of just about anyone. Whoopty-do!
I have secrets. We all do. If you don’t, go get one. It’s hard to explain, but I like secrets. A few posts back I wrote about how I decided to live my life with nothing to hide. I was open to the point that I felt empty. Like I had given all of myself away. I wanted pieces of myself just for me. This is when I started stock piling secrets. Little rituals, little habits, that I would not share with a soul. I didn’t set out to do this on purpose. It just started happening.
One morning while having a coffee in Chicago, I wrote a love letter and put it in this little lending library. I wrote a list of all my secrets. Guess they’re not secrets anymore.
Unfortunately, most of my secrets aren’t great for me. And deep down, I know it’s probably a control issue. But I can’t be alone in this, right?
Secret shopping? Secret stashes of food around the house? Secretly watching trash television?
Once (or twice) I did mushrooms out in the desert. Just a bit. I wanted to watch the sky change colors. I remember laying in a cracked bath tub (Joshua Tree is a weird place) feeling the wind blow thick across my legs. I couldn’t tell you the color of the sky, but I felt like I was sinking ever so slightly into the warm red dirt around me. I was in on the biggest secret there ever was. I felt so small. A bat flew overhead and winked at me, maybe saluted me for all I know. I was in on it. Something big. I didn’t know what exactly it was, but that didn’t matter. I was smiling so hard it hurt. Mushrooms are great.
I think most of my secrets started as guilty pleasures. That’s a fine line, right there. And I think most of my guilty pleasures were things I would hide from others out of sheer embarrassment. Then, as I indulged in them more and more, the more I felt no one could ever know.
And trust me, I know. This does NOT sound healthy. But let’s be honest. It’s normal. I think as long as they aren’t hurting you in the long run, they can be something sacred and just for you. If they’re hurting you…tell someone. Get them out and into the air. And you’ll find you’re likely not alone.
Do you keep secrets? Just say yes or no. Or spill your guts. It’s up to you. I’ll bring the saltines.
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