Some things need to be said out loud or they end up burning you inside, begging for release. As if releasing the words into the world somehow makes them real, and assures you that it’s not all in your head or your heart or your stomach. That your emotions actually make sense, and it’s not the butterflies in you having a bad day.
Secrets kill. I’m not talking about the little ones, like, “Hey, I saw saw how you rolled your eyes when she was talking, but it’s fine—I won’t tell.” I’m talking about the big ones, the ones that are life-defining or destiny-changing. The ones that hold the real you. Those are the secrets that kill. It starts that first moment you hold yourself back from exposing your words, when you end up forming them in your mind anyway, because at least there, you can listen to your secret without betraying it. The bigger the secret, the surer and slower the death. It’s irrelevant to measure the difficulty, or pain attached to it, because hurt is hurt no matter what size the measuring cup.
We are creatures of community. We need to share things. Sure, there are some who hoard, steal, or destroy. But for the most part, the things that matter most to us are things we want to display proudly, as if to say, “Look what I found, isn’t it pretty?” Like that merchant who sold all his possessions for that one great pearl of value. He held it up high and walked around happy for his discovery.
We have pearls of our own, you and I. The ones that we share with others, the ones we let them touch and handle and ooh and aah over, have great sentimental value to us. Like our discoveries about the meaning of love, or God, or our understanding of life in general. They may have lost some of their lustre from all that touching, but they’re dearer to us because people have seen them, fondled them, known them to be ours.
Then there are those that are hidden, either by choice or necessity. (Because social compromise is still a necessity to many.) The ones that never had to stand up to public inspection.
Because they’ve been untouched and unseen, they grow in stature, emboldened by the lack of scrutiny. Soon, to our eyes left to fend for themselves, they start to sparkle a little more brightly. Maybe they’re more perfectly round (because they’ve never been dropped). But they’re there, always present.
These shiny orbs start beckoning, demanding your attention. Soon you start turning away from your comely, more familiar pearls and find yourself drawn more and more to these seemingly bright and lonely ones. And as people continue to admire your show pearls, outwardly you’re saying, “Yes, aren’t they pretty?” but inside, you’re thinking, “Oh, you should see the more perfect ones I have hidden somewhere.”
That is how these magnificent virgin beauties ruin you. You start spending less time with your show pearls. You may even lose some of them without noticing. Eventually, all your time is spent gazing at these, trying to figure them out, assign value to them. You forget to eat, or go to work, or tend to your other treasures. They entice you to parade them around, knowing full well that you won’t. You can’t. You want to take them out, but now you’re afraid you might damage them, or lose them, or worse, take them out into the light and find out they aren’t real.
We need to examine our pearls. Look at the shiniest ones, the ones that take up most of our time and our attention. Ask ourselves: have I shown these to anyone lately? Is it treasure or curse? Or fraud?
Secrets kill. We are creatures of community. We need to share things.
You are so right.
And we all have to find the right person or the right people with whom we may share those pearls, don’t we?