The Gift of Truth
Growing up, there were always secrets in my Mom's family. It was a byproduct of a dysfunctional family filled with abuse. You couldn't say what you felt or be who you were because that might upset someone else. We had to pretend not to know things. We had to pretend not to be places. It's a good thing Facebook wasn't around back then because I am sure every family gathering would start with "Don't tag me on Facebook, I don't want ___________ to know I'm here." I hate secrets. I learned to play the game and I did my best to keep the secrets. Truth be told, I felt important when I was included. I thought I belonged. I thought I was trusted. Over time, I realized it just meant that I got to feel awful when I saw the hurt and the pain that the secrets caused. So many times they would say they were trying to save hurt feelings, but really, they were creating them. They didn't, or couldn't, deal with uncomfortable conversations. They somehow