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 thought they could control what others thought or felt by telling them lies and keeping secrets.
Over the years I tried to stay out of the secret keeping game. I refused to tell secrets and I refused to keep them. Or at least that is what I told myself. As I'm writing this, I realize that isn't completely honest. There were many times when I just pretended I didn't hear them. I guess I still have a long way to go.
My Mom passed away in late January. At first I took it well. We had come a long way and had found a way to enjoy each other. It gave me peace to have forgiven the past. I was honored to wrap up her affairs...
And then I found out the secrets my Mom took to her grave and I am not feeling so forgiving. I feel lost and betrayed. I feel confused. Every single day. Every single moment. Every single thing about me was a secret.
If my Mom were still alive she would tell me this is a secret I have to keep. She would tell me that I was shaming her, or that I was hurting others. She would somehow turn this on me and make it my burden. It is for that reason that today I am giving myself the best birthday present I can think of. Today I am finally relieving myself of the burden of secrets.
I am not my father's biological child.
This knowledge answers so many questions, even as it creates a million new ones.
The biggest question I get to deal with right now is....
What is a secret? And what is private?
This secret grew for 52 years. The longer it was a secret, the more people it impacted. Now my truth is entwined with the father that raised me, the biological father that had no idea that I existed, half siblings, children, grandchildren, spouses... Where does my truth end and someone else's privacy begin?
I don't have any answers for this and there is no guidebook to tell each one of us how to handle this situation. A situation that would not exist if my Mom had not started it with a secret...
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 thought they could control what others thought or felt by telling them lies and keeping secrets.
Over the years I tried to stay out of the secret keeping game. I refused to tell secrets and I refused to keep them. Or at least that is what I told myself. As I'm writing this, I realize that isn't completely honest. There were many times when I just pretended I didn't hear them. I guess I still have a long way to go.
My Mom passed away in late January. At first I took it well. We had come a long way and had found a way to enjoy each other. It gave me peace to have forgiven the past. I was honored to wrap up her affairs...
And then I found out the secrets my Mom took to her grave and I am not feeling so forgiving. I feel lost and betrayed. I feel confused. Every single day. Every single moment. Every single thing about me was a secret.
If my Mom were still alive she would tell me this is a secret I have to keep. She would tell me that I was shaming her, or that I was hurting others. She would somehow turn this on me and make it my burden. It is for that reason that today I am giving myself the best birthday present I can think of. Today I am finally relieving myself of the burden of secrets.
I am not my father's biological child.
This knowledge answers so many questions, even as it creates a million new ones.
The biggest question I get to deal with right now is....
What is a secret? And what is private?
This secret grew for 52 years. The longer it was a secret, the more people it impacted. Now my truth is entwined with the father that raised me, the biological father that had no idea that I existed, half siblings, children, grandchildren, spouses... Where does my truth end and someone else's privacy begin?
I don't have any answers for this and there is no guidebook to tell each one of us how to handle this situation. A situation that would not exist if my Mom had not started it with a secret...
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