2 A.M. Introspection

At 2:02 a.m., I watched a meteorite burn out across the sky to the north. I was sitting by the pool in the dark in a strange place watching the American flag wave across the street. Yesterday’s clouds were gone, leaving an open canopy view of the overhead nigjt sky. The cicadas were keeping me cacophonous company, their shrill ancient sounds providing a background syncopation to my thoughts. I made a wish upon a star. It went right to the heart of my reoccurring theme of abandoning secrecy and living a life of accountability and openness. 

We can’t understand ourselves or other people if we continue to insist that we can control and curate the dissonance in our lives resulting from believing that secrecy is beneficial.

Some of my posts are interconnected without seeming to be. A few years ago, I went to one of the local ERs. My family member, who I will call Susan, had an accident. In the course of her treatment, it was discovered she had fallen at home and likely suffered an event triggered by a brain injury. Because I have a background both in medical and secrecy, I was glad to have shown up. Had I not, she would have been administered a medication that likely would have killed her quickly. Another family member had decided to keep Susan’s history of excessive drinking secret. I understand the tendency to not discuss it. Being me, I didn’t hesitate to pull medical staff aside and indicate that alcoholism was an undisclosed factor. The doctor, despite having experience with all manner of such non-disclosure, reacted with surprise and took measures to quickly change how Susan would be treated. 

Much later that day, I visited the hospital and discovered that some of the information had not been passed on to the nursing staff. The nursing staff once again immediately changed the medications for the course of treatment for Susan. 

I’m not telling the story so that I will somehow look better. People who know me well know the opposite is true. I’m not saying any of this to point the finger at anyone. Most of us do the best we can and hope that we are rationally making the best choices. Family honor, misguided loyalty, and the inability to tell ourselves or the people around us tough truth combine to rob us of a better life. 

Part of my truth is that a portion of my identity is tied to the resentment I experience when I deal with people who want to live in secrecy. The stubbornness and resentment has caused me sometimes to stick my foot in icy water and challenge people. My early life is full of such stories. One of those stories resulted in me discovering a sister. Others pushed me into huge fights when I foolishly tilted at windmills and asked people to choose differently. Conversely, the same obstinacy cemented my own feet, resulting in my idiocy morphing words of concern for my choices into accusations. We tend to recognize it later as love or concern. But in the moment? Our defensiveness whispers to us that we are being unfairly attacked. 

My life history is littered with people who ruin their lives with alcoholism, addiction, or anger. Every person in my family who drank too much finished their lives still suffering from the little voice in their head that insisted that they continue drinking. It’s one of the reasons I’m proud of my sister. It took her a long time to look back on the arc of her life and tell herself that enough was enough. Each of us usually only takes action when it’s the only other choice. We sometimes talk and nod toward one another, once again agreeing that it has nothing to do with intelligence. We make choices, or adopt maladaptive ways to feel better. And then our strategies turn traitor and entrap us. 

All of the preceding words also disclose my volatile resentment regarding secrecy. People can’t develop long-term drinking issues without secrecy. They can’t blow up their marriages without secrecy being perverted into privacy. We can’t become helplessly overweight unless we don’t talk about the elephant in the room or the ostrich in the closet. Depression blossoms because the difference in what people experience inside their private worlds in their heads becomes disproportionately silent. Isolation in thought or action inevitably brings toxicity. Even to otherwise normal behavior that becomes an unhealthy obsession. 

If we had to experience the accountability of people around us knowing us in our private moments, it would be difficult to continue the charade of secrecy. Instead of choosing authenticity, we spiral into a cocoon of self-fulfilling prophecy. Image truly becomes the identity we cling to. The people around us flail and overthink because they bear witness to the consequences of our choices. Further out into our personal periphery, the people in our orbit are unaware. Most of the time I think we have this backwards. 

A little bit ago, I navigated the dark and put my feet into the pool. After a few minutes, another dimmer meteorite scorched its way into non-existense as it penetrated the atmosphere above me. I didn’t make another wish, even though initially I wished that I wouldn’t overthink. I’m sitting in the late night or early morning of the last day of July. I’ve outlived people who were better than me. Definitely smarter. 

For a brief second, the lesson of detachment and gratitude reminded me that it’s to be experienced. And the only way to experience anything meaningfully is to unflinchingly know yourself and live in the reality that you’ve been given rather than the one you attempt to craft. 

Secrecy can kiss my ass. It’s no irony that I’m sitting in the dark writing this. 

Love, X

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