Secrets

I came across this blog the other night: http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

As I read through the postcards, I think about my secrets and how big or small they are. I have shared my big secrets with my man, Billy, and with a few friends. I find the more I talk about the big ones, the less power they hold over me.

It's the small secrets that are okay to hold close and keep to ones self, I think. I sort of wonder if those small secrets will gradually unfold as my relationship with Billy grows. He already knows I'm a slob. My co-workers wouldn't know that, since I like to keep a clean and neat workspace. Most of my friends don't know that, because I try to clean my apartment as much as possible before they come over.

Billy knows it because he ended up in my closet trying to put together a sexy outfit for me to model one night. I know that closet is a disaster, and now he knows it. But strangely, I am not all that embarrassed. I thought, "well, he was gonna find out anyway".


What might also be a secret to most people who know me is that I hate and like running. It's hard. I do races to stay motivated. I'm usually not having a great time while running. Usually I am thinking about my level of tiredness and how much further I have to go.

On the other hand, when I reach my mileage, I feel a sense of accomplishment as I huff and puff to catch my breath. When I lay down to stretch, I feel great. Then I might think, "That wasn't so bad". I'm glad I did it. And I don't think about my next run until the next day.

If I could be fit and slim by weightlifting alone, I'd be one buff chick. I LOVE to lift. I could lift all day. Some heavy ass weights, too, not some cute pink dumbbells. I like when people look at me in surprise at the gym when I deadlift. Or when I do bent over rows with 30's. I'm not at the gym to pick up men or look cute. I work my ass off in the gym. And I love it.

If I could ever feel the same way about running as I do lifting, I'd be very happy, and probably look pretty good, too. I run to get through a run. I like that I can run. My body is healthy enough to run 5 miles and not take days to recover. There is no pain, just aches. And since I am healthy enough to do it, I should. So I do. But I don't love it.


Another secret is probably one most everyone has. When I'm at work, I am constantly biting my tongue or feeling exasperated at the level of incompetence and lack of focus I see five days per week. Sometimes it bothers me so much that I feel on edge and ready to go off on the person who can take up to a full 30 seconds (if you don't think that's long, sit and watch a second hand on a watch) to gather their thoughts - AFTER they've gotten my attention - to spit some inane info out that I have already heard twice in as many days. That doesn't count the first five times I heard it when I first started there.

At first I was insulted that this person thinks I have no memory retention, or that I am just an idiot who needs things repeated. Then I realized that this person has no memory retention and is completely incompetent in the job they've been hired to do. It baffled me that any kind of management would think this person is capable of leading anyone or anything, but then came to the conclusion that's exactly what they wanted. I work in a very sick place. But it's entertaining when it's not annoying. Especially on that person's day off.

Some secrets are better kept as such. If I went off on this person each time I came to a boiling point, I'd no longer have a job. And that would mean no more apartment, which would mean no closet for Billy to look through for naughty-wear, which would mean we'd still have a great time, just not in my bedroom with the red light. And that would also be okay, because we can have a great time anywhere together.


A few years ago, a man I was casually seeing (in front of a fireplace, on the floor with many pillows) asked me to tell him a secret. It seemed very forward and for some reason, I went directly to one of my biggest secrets. I could have told him some small, insignificant thing, but I didn't. He listened intently. He seemed to get it. I think he understood the range of emotions I felt. What is better than knowing that someone knows where you're coming from? It's very powerful.

I don't know why I told him one of my big ones. He said it would hold less power over me the more I talked about it. Since that day, after telling a virtual stranger one of my innermost, private secrets, it has become easier to tell. And that may be the reason we met. I didn't see him after that day, but the act was helpful, and the fooling around on the floor was incredible. One of the top 10's. Ha ha!