When Secrets become Lies
We keep to ourselves what brings us joy if we do not believe it to be acceptable.
Secrets are our way of fooling other people around us. The perception we have of our habits is based on the opinions of others (or so we think). Instead of allowing other people to have their opinions evolve, we take a part of ourselves and bury it underground. We only allow this part of our self to be seen by our Self. Still carrying the charged energy of words from past experiences, we punish our self. We tend to lash out at others when we feel our secret is under threat of being revealed. The burden is our cross to bear, and even if it will becomes the one we are nailed to, we defend it like its a child.
The secrets we keep demand protection. That energy manifests as aggression, defensiveness, and rage. No one likes to be called out. The only way that can happen is if we are doing something that we know we ought not to do. When we fuck up, the feeling of regret isn’t nearly as haunting as when we fuck up while doing something we know we shouldn’t. ‘Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve’. Those are the worst. Much worse than any freak accident. The secrets we try to bury will resurface, inevitably. Yet we try to get away with it, not realizing that trying to fool everyone else means we are trying to fool our Self.
We make up a Collective Mind, and when we tip toe around, we bring with us the eggshells we try so hard not to walk on. If, instead, we decide to walk with the truth, we don’t fall victim to the mindset of what will happen if others find out. The more we can allow them to know, the more powerful we are. We ensure our full vindication. Secrets invite disclosure, and they are always one moment away from being found out. Every emotion that attaches to the big reveal, expresses all the energy that was needed to keep something hidden. The more energy required, the more explosive the response. This is where a secret becomes a betrayal.
betray (v.)
early 13c., bitraien, “prove false, violate by unfaithfulness;” c. 1300, “deliver or expose to the power of an enemy by treachery,” also “mislead, deceive, delude,” from be- + obsolete Middle English tray, from Old French traine “betrayal, deception, deceit,” from trair (Modern French trahir) “betray, deceive,” from Latin tradere “hand over,” from trans “across” (see trans-) + dare “to give” (from PIE root *do-”to give”).
It is attested from 1580s as “unintentionally show a true character;” by 1690s as “indicate what is not obvious;” from 1735 as “reveal or disclose in violation of confidence.” In Middle English it sometimes was also bitraish, betrash, from the French present-participle stem. Related: Betrayed; betraying.
Our worst fears are realized. Just as we knew it, we weren’t well received for our hiding. We convince ourselves that the others are reason. If they weren’t so judgmental, we wouldn’t feel this way. We give up our power. We deny our own moral compass. We tell ourselves that we are a victim to the hurtful image cast on us. Not realizing that the only reason we feel such a way is because we were found out. We attempted to deceive but we didn’t get away with it. The shame is self produced. The opinions we fear are actually our own projected on to others. If we aren’t able to see this, we blame others, and fall further into the uncertainty of what we are.
I am the only one that can hold me accountable. I am the only judge that matters. I reveal myself for the sake of my sanity and to retain control of my own story. Secrets are weakness. Only in my surrender, do I find such power.
Originally written in Collective Journaling at The Stoa
