I recently re-read Secrets and Shame Don’t Survive on the Porch by my friend Fran Thomas and have not been able to get it off the back burner of my mind. Go read it. Fran posted it back in the summer but it came to my mind again this last week. She is spot on with talking about all the feelings of being transparent and vulnerable.
I so relate with Fran’s post because growing up we didn’t always talk about *things* that were on our hearts and minds. We were more like stuffers, if you know what I mean. We talked, but it was usually surface stuff. So when I woke this morning, I had the thought:
When the hurt runs deep.
So, I am up because I cannot sleep, thinking of when the hurt runs deep. At first, I wasn’t even sure what that meant; but those words crossed the tablet of my heart this morning, so I came to the keyboard in the early morning to press the keys to express the thoughts of my heart. The keyboard always listens when others are asleep. Then another thought seemingly related to Fran’s “Secrets and Shame Don’t Survive on the Porch” post that keeps coming to my mind:
Shame keeps secrets.
Shame tries to hide, instead of abide.
I grew up in that culture of just not talking about things, too. We might’ve fussed and spoke our mind for a quick moment, but by the time the front door or the car door opened, we were slick and smiley. No letting someone else know we were hurting, or upset, or confused, or searching for understanding.
Shame and secrets. I so relate to Fran’s post.
Enter The Salesman, who sells for a living. Well, his is an occupation that takes on every form of communication: written, verbal and non-verbal. FYI – I love watching non-verbal communication, and what is being said in the silence. Back to the task at hand, though. The Salesman’s life work carries over into how he lives his daily life: talking and expressing his opinions. Opposites attract in our case; I’m a listener.
Most of the time, I enjoy listening. It is just part of my personality, but there are times I want to talk, or should I say, need to talk. If truth needs to be spoken, it just comes out. I remember being a guest at a party and the host said, “Lora, your cucumber sandwiches are good.” I said, “Oh thank you, but I didn’t make them” to which the host replied, “You didn’t have to tell that part.”
But I did.
I had been given them by my friend Paula after helping her at a friend’s wedding, and I just didn’t want to take credit for something that was not mine to take credit for. I wanted to give credit where it was due. Paula is a lovely friend of mine. I was so happy to serve at the wedding reception. I was assigned the task of cutting the wedding cake – a task I’d never done before, but it was sweet. I’ve often wondered if I get tasks like this because sugar and gluten are not my friends! Ha. ha. I wondered the same thing when I worked at the bakery. Anyway, I do really enjoy parties and serving though. Celebrations are one of my favorite things to plan and to see the joy on faces when guests experience the fun is just one of the best gifts for me. Anyway, Paula sent me home with food – which is something many of my friends do – but I wanted to give her credit. So it is little things like that that are important to me. It may not really be important in the grand scheme of things, but nevertheless, it is important to me.
All of this is related, I promise.
So, a discussion took place last week with my family and honestly, I didn’t want it to go to the porch of life, per se. Literally and physically. I think how many times in my life I’ve not wanted to talk, not wanted to share, because as Fran says, “secrets and shame” were my motivation. That dang motivation popped up and reared its ugly old head last week. And I had to apologize because I realized I was wanting to keep feelings in and not get them out on the porch.
Now granted, there is a time for getting them out on the porch. And if they are being said, they need to be communicated in the safe place of a porch. Timing is so important. I remember coming home from a trip and wanting to tell The Salesman something foolish that I thought I’d done, but I was running in the door from the trip knowing that I had play practice that evening and I DID NOT KNOW MY LINES because I’d been on a trip having fun, and then I thought I’d done something embarrassing and it had been recorded.
GOOD GRIEF. Secrets and Shame don’t survive on the porch. Thank you, Fran.
But I kept it a secret because I felt shame. Secrets have a way of causing shame, but I could not keep it in. I could not keep the cucumber sandwiches, so to say, to myself. So, after showing up at play practice and then unpacking my bag, I unpacked my heart to The Salesman.
I told him how I had been afforded such a wonderful opportunity to meet my friends’ family that was just as kind and compassionate and welcoming as my church family. I smiled as I shared about wearing Burger King crowns and miles of laughter and stories with a background of his music he’d graciously loaned us for the road trip. I recounted how my friend asked me where I wanted to go and how we walked and enjoyed the most amazing sights in my favorite city. I told him how I thought of my mom and her brother and how they’d always try to pay for other’s bill when at restaurants because every time I tried to pay for a meal on this trip, it was fruitless. Good memories of my family are such bright spots. I told him about being asked what languages I spoke by one of my friend’s highly educated elder relatives and being so intimidated by the list of languages they knew that I could hardly speak English, let alone remember my years of foreign language classes or that I taught a foreign language… I told him about an amazing experience we had at a TV show and how The Salesman in me rose up (he always says “Ask. What’s the worst they can say? ‘No’, but at least you asked.”) and I asked a TV host if I could take a selfie with her and when she said “Yes”, I gathered my new friends and did a groupie (instead of a selfie)! Then I told him how after I took the group picture, one of my friend’s family members offered to take a picture of me and the host. I told him it was really one of the sweetest moments because I just wanted everyone in the picture. Oh, I could recount so many happy times during the trip, but I was avoiding the secret because of shame. But, I could not keep it in, so I said,
“I feel that I did something foolish the night of a party at a relative’s house, and it was recorded on video.”
To which he responded, “Were you dancing on a table?”
I said, “No, I was helping serve at the party and hadn’t eaten but had some wine and did not feel like myself and it was recorded on video.”
Again, he says, “So, you weren’t dancing on a table? Forget about it. Now if the video has you dancing on a table, I want to see that.”
And it was over.
Secret out. And shame could no longer survive. It was no big deal to him. It was a big deal to me though, because I remember the feeling of not feeling like myself. I remember the feeling of wanting to help and enjoying serving. I was with my friend and was having fun. I love giving parties, and just helping with this one was so much fun, but I had not eaten and I was thirsty, so I had wine. I did not feel like myself. I could rehash it a thousand times. I had played it over in my mind like it was on repeat. Shame does that to you. Shame tells you that you will feel better keeping it in. Then it becomes a secret.
But, goodbye shame and secret. The one person that I thought would be disappointed, laughed. When I shared with other friends, they were like, “that’s no big deal.” Well, there you go.
So bring it to last week. I felt all the feels again when the family discussion started last week. So here is what happened, the three of us were having a very passionate discussion and we all three had differing opinions, and we were letting each other know about it. Then my mentor called, and I didn’t answer because we were having a discussion and we were all passionately telling our feelings. Well, she showed up on the back porch and proceeded to arrange this beautiful holiday arrangement in the basket of my bike on the back porch while we were having this heated discussion.
It is hard for me to be transparent because I didn’t grow up that way. It is not my default setting. My default setting is when the door opens, smile. I was not smiling when my mentor showed up to be a Christmas Elf on my back porch. I desire to be real and honest though. And I have been such a recipient of grace when I have been. The Salesman’s humorous but extremely gracious response to me when I thought I’d acted shamefully was such relief. The secret and shame once exposed were not as bad as I’d made it up to be. Life happens. Mistakes are made. I am not a perfect person. I have to say I am sorry more than any other phrase. I mean it when I say it. Sometimes, I just don’t think or get wrapped up in what I like to do or what I want to do. I need to just take one day at a time and not let the sun go down on any wrong. God’s mercies are new every morning. I desire others to be open and honest with me, so I choose to be open and honest.
I have been loved well.
And I desire to love others well.
If it is transparency and vulnerability I desire
I need to be willing to give what I desire
And let secrets and shame burn in a holy fire
And when I finish expressing my heart, I know what it means now:
When the hurts run deep.
I have hurts. We all have hurts. Some hurts are very fresh and recent and some are old and simmering. When kept in, the enemy wins. As I breathe out shame and secrets,
I no longer hide, I can abide.
Hallelujah.
*Picture of two beautiful boxes, one given to me by Selvi and the other thrifted. Normally, they remain closed on my desk. Today, they are open.
