Let’s talk about embarrassing tattoos.
I have one that makes me cringe. It was a good idea at the time (aren’t they always?), but it hasn’t held up.
I got the tattoo on a whim two decades ago. I had gotten a raise at work and paid for my tattoo and one for my then wife. The artist did my ex’s tattoo first and it took a lot longer than expected, so he rushed through mine. Hers turned out just fine. Perhaps that was the beginning of the end.
Oh yes, in case you missed it: I used to be married to a woman. In fact, while I’m being honest, I’ll share that I met my now-husband while I was still married to my ex. He came around at the end of my relationship with her and though I’d been contemplating exactly how to leave for a while, his arrival certainly added more urgency to the situation. My ex-wife eventually stole my journal and found out about Robin. To say that it was hurtful does not do her pain justice. Nor mine.
Many people read my blogs. Some of you I know personally and others are complete strangers to me. I’m guessing that each of you has learned something new about me today, even if it’s just that I don’t like the owl tattoo on my shoulder. Why bother sharing this when I could have easily kept up a facade of being a straight woman who has never transgressed another’s boundary and enjoys all the ink on her body?
Because shame is like mold — exposed to light it cannot survive. Honesty is the first sunlight on your skin after a long winter. Let’s bask.
We spend enormous amounts of energy trying to mask our pain points from others or pretend — even to ourselves — that something is not happening. What could we do with all that time back? A lot. We can celebrate the wildness of our desires, laugh at our inability to be perfect, or make amends for what we have done. You and I have screwed up many times, likely a few really big times. But when you claim those faceplants as part of your full experience, you’ll find that falling is what you do before you learn to get up.
It took me years to be honest enough to admit that my desire to be with Robin was deeper than anything I have ever experienced. I was simply powerless to it, as was he. I spent many years feeling ashamed and hiding my celebration of a love that has made me the woman I am today. We will never know why that force pulled us together so strongly — against everyone’s better judgment — but I can stand in the sun and say that he and I have something very special. Perhaps it was because our beginning was so imperfect that we have been able to accept all the peaks and valleys that come with any relationship.
On Our Terms
Every time we name something as true, we take ownership of our experience. When we define our stories on our terms, we don’t have to worry when we walk into a room where people were just whispering about us. We don’t have to worry about another person’s reaction to the pronoun of an ex; we say it and trust the other person will digest it or ignore it. But without honesty, your secrets are hiding around a corner, waiting to jump out.
Secrets create an oil spill of fear and not-good-enoughness that will never under any circumstances stay quietly in its place. This secret leaves dark stains on other parts of you, creating the feeling that you don’t deserve to have this job, relationship, lifestyle, health. When you carry even one secret, you will feel like an imposter in your own life.
I invite you to play a game of Confessional. It’s easy: Tell the truth about one thing in your life that you have kept secret. Begin by writing it in your journal. Then say it out loud in the mirror, then to an animal. After, you might be ready to tell a complete stranger at the grocery store. Then, if you are really gutsy, I dare you to tell someone who will love you unconditionally no matter what. After each truth-telling, find some golden nugget of self-approval to dislodge the shame. Approve of the fact that you are finally being honest. Approve of the fact that you acted at all in an impossible situation. Approve of the strange way you chose to release yourself and another person from a destructive dynamic (or is that just me?). To be clear: This self-approval is not to cover up any pain your action may have caused, but to recognize that our actions are often gifts from a mysterious suitor who knows our size.
If you are the teensiest bit human, you will be uncomfortable with this game of Confessional. Even reading the suggestion will make you want to shove your secret down even deeper. I give you permission to do it badly. Tell your secret as a half-truth at first, and then slowly add in the real details. Any step in the direction of honesty is laudable.
To master honesty requires practice, repetition, and support. Like any sport, it will get easier and more rewarding the more you do it. Any act that approaches honesty will create courage to explore the things that chase you in the shadows. Then, one day you will turn around and see that the thing that seemed so frightening in the dark is just a wisp of smoke that dissolves in your hand.
If you need me, I’ll be sketching out ideas for a new tattoo.
