In this age of "reality," it seems
that few secrets are left unshared.
Prior generations held it inside.
Rarely revealing next to nada.
Call it decorum, restraint, or
propriety, secrets were best left
unsaid. As we boomers boomed,
our culture has shifted to candid
confession. Most of us have sat
at the shrink sifting through our
lives trying to make sense of it
all. Few have found answers.
No wonder we're still talking...
I'm not sure that dwelling on the
past with a paid stranger gets us
anywhere. Putting together the
pieces is a natural process often
best accomplished with a close
friend and a bottle of Cabernet.
For me writing this blog helps
me travel life's journey. Some
of you have cautioned me about
my true confessions. While it is
highly personal, it seems to help
many of you. Right or wrong, it
feels right. No wonder I write.
How did our parents navigate life
without spilling their guts? They
opted to keep their secrets hidden
rather than bare them to the world.
I'll never know why because we
never talked about them. It was
only after both were dead that I
slowly put together the pieces. As
a child all of the action happened
behind closed doors. Rather than
air their dirty laundry, they kept to
themselves. It was their business.
No wonder I knew nothing.
While blabbing on about personal
things is a bit personal, most of the
time it's helpful. When somebody
hurts, sharing a secret can often heal.
I'm glad to share most of the lessons
I've learned. If for no other reason
than that sharing them seems to give
the pain of my education some sort
of noble purpose. You see, there's a
reason for everything so rather than
keeping it a quiet, I prefer to speak
up and make things just a little bit
better. No wonder I spill my guts!
