Scientific research studies show that keeping secrets places an enormous burden on our well being. This applies not just to our own secrets, but to those we carry for other people as well.
We ruminate on the secrets, we bring them to the surface each time we meet the people concerned, we ponder on them from time to time when we are faced with similar situations — in short, the secret never really goes away.
Unless we unburden ourselves and share it with someone else — and then it’s no longer a secret, is it? Whom do we share it with? Can we trust that person enough — and so on it goes in an endless cycle of questions with no real answers.
Now everyone has his or her share of secrets. We keep some secrets for our spouses and we keep some secrets from them. We keep other secrets for our friends and a whole bunch of secrets from them, especially if we are confided to by several friends.
Thus, by the time we are into late middle age, we could suddenly find ourselves weighed down by so many “secrets” we are no longer able to remember which ones are meant to stay locked up forever and which can be spilt — and we could well open up Pandora’s box with a careless slip of the tongue, which some of us become more wont to do as the years take their toll on us.
How, then, do we learn where to draw the line: Batten down the hatches and keep a secret under cover forever or throw open the portholes and let it find its way out of our systems and see whether it makes any difference to anyone now that it is out in the open.
Mother was a confidante to many. She listened gravely but not judgementally, she seemed to know when to nod and when to stay still, and somehow, not one of those people who confided in her ever came back to accuse her of making their secrets public.
Mum’s the word
As always, it was Mother’s example that helped me find a way out of my dilemma.
Mother was a confidante to many. She listened gravely but not judgementally, she seemed to know when to nod and when to stay still, and somehow, not one of those people who confided in her ever came back to accuse her of making their secrets public.
How did Mother do this? How did she keep herself sane with the burden of others’ troubles when she had enough of her own in the shape of Father, three difficult “children” and a string of pets, grandchildren, siblings, in-laws, outlaws and all our related ups and downs!
Because I was fortunate to spend quite a bit of time with Mother over the years as she grew older, I realised what kept her going despite the burden of secrets she carried: Mother never really kept those secrets to herself!
She muttered them to the cabbage she was chopping or the eggs she was whisking or the onions she was slicing (so I guess sometimes those “onion” tears were real).
She shared them in an undertone with the bathroom mirror she was polishing or the cushions she was plumping into shape or the puppy whose fur she was brushing to velvety softness.
On occasion, when she was particularly troubled and too tired to busy herself with any on these tasks, she even shared them with Dad, who, like all good husbands of three and four and more decades, switched off his hearing the moment his wife started talking. She could say anything and he would nod wisely but be blissfully unaware of what had been said!
Thus, Mother was free of her burden of secrets. What she had let go could not eat into her psyche and upset her equilibrium. And everyone who confided in her could rest easy because every secret — unheard by human ears — was safe!
Maybe it is time to pick up the chopping board or a washcloth and rid ourselves of our burden of secrets ... What do you say?
Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.
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