A matter of disclosure.
Buenos dias señors y señoritas. Cómo estás? Okay that has just about exhausted what I can remember of my GCSE Spanish so I'll now revert back to my native tongue if that's alright by you. Good? Good! So another week has come to a close and as it has a new addition to my tattoo collection is currently healing on my body. I never thought I would have a quote or any form of script done and yet here it is and I love it. There are certain words you read in a book that resonate deep within you. I had that with Game of Thrones, on more than one occasion to be fair. The two lines that are now irrevocably etched into my skin have raised a question from the depths of my brain and out into the open.
I once dated a man who told me that, while very laudable, my willingness to wear my heart on my sleeve was not an entirely good thing. This came from a discussion we had one night about my ex-husband and the crap I had endured during our relationship. I find myself asking now (as I did back then) how much is too much? Of course by that I mean information. Nobody is baggage free when coming into a relationship, that much is true but some have more than others and not all of it small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. So how much is too much and what is not enough?
When entering into a relationship you have a certain responsibility towards that other person because they are taking a chance and letting you into their life and (hopefully) their heart. If that be the truth then don't they deserve to know what exactly they are letting themselves in for? I'm not suggesting that spilling out all your most deeply held secrects on your third or fourth date is the way to go, hell if I did that then the next thing I'd need to do is sit back and watch them run, but surely there must come a time when you ought to confide in that person? I'm not even sure that a lie by omission is acceptable. Were I put in that position I know I'd probably feel betrayed especially if I had asked something that might have opened up that particular avenue of conversation. To lie in the name of love... justified or an act of cowardice?
I don't think that I have one person in my life who knows exactly what I have gone through during my thrity-something years on this planet. Sure I have a couple who know more than they probably wanted to but they don't judge me for it and they haven't run away from me because of it either. However I am acutely aware of the risk in saying more than I should, so while I give out thumbnail sketches or a hazy watercolour nobody gets to see the full macabre Da Vinci masterpeice of my experiences. In doing that though am I being unfair to myself or am I merely waiting for the right person to come along who I believe will be capable of handling the hideous truth in all of it's glory.
The trouble with hiding things away however is that they find ways of making themselves known against your will. A scene from a film or tv show can leave you paralysed in terror, rendered completely helpless against the flood of memories unwittingly let loose. And that's the best case scenario. I speak from experience when I say that an innocuous gesture or turn of phrase at the wrong time can trigger a catastrophic flashback. A traumatic episode where you relive your blackest nightmares. If that should happen doesn't the other person involved deserve to know why, to weigh for themself whether or not they want to take the risk of there being a reoccurrence in the future? My ex-husband knew quite a lot of what I had been forced to suffer through but instead of understanding and compassion... well let's just say he used what he knew about me near the end of our relationship to hurt. If that isn't enough a reason to hide my own individual history away for the rest of my life I don't know what is.
The fact of the matter is that unless my future soulmate just so happens to read my humble little blog here (and let's face it what are the odds of that?) he's going to be in for a pretty big shock. Even in this relatively anonymous setting I don't bare it all. Some things, the little seemingly insignifficant details that hurt the most, I hold back. They are mine alone to deal with. A series of events that will ultimately lead... the gods only know where because I sure don't.
Okay folks, that's all for tonight. Nothing more to see here! Back to your homes citizens and tell no-one of what you witnessed... unless of course they're willing to pony up a looooot of dough in which case send them my way. After all am I not the protagonist here?! Why yes; I do believe that I am! Alright kids go, run free and frolic in the fresh air and until next we meet stay safe and be good to one another. Peace ya'll!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
I once dated a man who told me that, while very laudable, my willingness to wear my heart on my sleeve was not an entirely good thing. This came from a discussion we had one night about my ex-husband and the crap I had endured during our relationship. I find myself asking now (as I did back then) how much is too much? Of course by that I mean information. Nobody is baggage free when coming into a relationship, that much is true but some have more than others and not all of it small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. So how much is too much and what is not enough?
When entering into a relationship you have a certain responsibility towards that other person because they are taking a chance and letting you into their life and (hopefully) their heart. If that be the truth then don't they deserve to know what exactly they are letting themselves in for? I'm not suggesting that spilling out all your most deeply held secrects on your third or fourth date is the way to go, hell if I did that then the next thing I'd need to do is sit back and watch them run, but surely there must come a time when you ought to confide in that person? I'm not even sure that a lie by omission is acceptable. Were I put in that position I know I'd probably feel betrayed especially if I had asked something that might have opened up that particular avenue of conversation. To lie in the name of love... justified or an act of cowardice?
I don't think that I have one person in my life who knows exactly what I have gone through during my thrity-something years on this planet. Sure I have a couple who know more than they probably wanted to but they don't judge me for it and they haven't run away from me because of it either. However I am acutely aware of the risk in saying more than I should, so while I give out thumbnail sketches or a hazy watercolour nobody gets to see the full macabre Da Vinci masterpeice of my experiences. In doing that though am I being unfair to myself or am I merely waiting for the right person to come along who I believe will be capable of handling the hideous truth in all of it's glory.
The trouble with hiding things away however is that they find ways of making themselves known against your will. A scene from a film or tv show can leave you paralysed in terror, rendered completely helpless against the flood of memories unwittingly let loose. And that's the best case scenario. I speak from experience when I say that an innocuous gesture or turn of phrase at the wrong time can trigger a catastrophic flashback. A traumatic episode where you relive your blackest nightmares. If that should happen doesn't the other person involved deserve to know why, to weigh for themself whether or not they want to take the risk of there being a reoccurrence in the future? My ex-husband knew quite a lot of what I had been forced to suffer through but instead of understanding and compassion... well let's just say he used what he knew about me near the end of our relationship to hurt. If that isn't enough a reason to hide my own individual history away for the rest of my life I don't know what is.
The fact of the matter is that unless my future soulmate just so happens to read my humble little blog here (and let's face it what are the odds of that?) he's going to be in for a pretty big shock. Even in this relatively anonymous setting I don't bare it all. Some things, the little seemingly insignifficant details that hurt the most, I hold back. They are mine alone to deal with. A series of events that will ultimately lead... the gods only know where because I sure don't.
Okay folks, that's all for tonight. Nothing more to see here! Back to your homes citizens and tell no-one of what you witnessed... unless of course they're willing to pony up a looooot of dough in which case send them my way. After all am I not the protagonist here?! Why yes; I do believe that I am! Alright kids go, run free and frolic in the fresh air and until next we meet stay safe and be good to one another. Peace ya'll!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo