Secrets and friends

Does everybody have that magical set of friends that they talk about everything with?  Where nothing is off limits and everything can be laid bare?

I’ll generally blabber here about whatever crosses my mind — it’s pretty moderated and what I do say, I don’t care if it’s out there for the wider world to know — but there are some things that I’ve guarded in my deepest, darkest of hearts for as long as I can remember and every now and then, there are new things that I stash there.  I do it completely unintentionally at this point.

Am I alone in that?

How do people even find friends they can talk about everything with?

 

When I was in school, I never talked to my friends about who I had a crush on or what problems I was having.  Those were my delicious secrets.  When you’re in Kindergarten and a group of girls ask if you want to be their friends and it’s promptly followed with shrieks of “APRIL FOOLS!”, it quickly adds to your growing distrust of people.

I’d listen to my friend’s relationship (or usually lack thereof) troubles, their bully problems, their family issues, and move on with my day even if I was screaming in agony inside or jumping with joy over something.

The few times I tried sharing things about me, it backfired spectacularly.  As it would turn out, most of the people I hung out with weren’t truly good friends or people, but in an area as small as the one I grew up, you didn’t have many choices.  If they didn’t actively trip you in the hallway or steal things from your locker, they were good enough to be a friend.  Our standards weren’t that high.

My escape, if you will, became the internet as soon as it became available.

It was there that I forged friends from all over and could, for once, let the bits of real me trickle out.  I could let my geek flag fly.  I could complain about the assholes at school without it ever getting back to them, thus amplifying the bullying (because it did…oh, how it did).  I was able to tell people things I would never dream of whispering out loud otherwise.

…and for the first time, ever, I was relatively comfortable in my own skin.

But now, decades later, it is causing is bit of a conundrum.

I have things I want to talk about and, more annoyingly, probably need to talk about.

…but I have no idea how to broach those topics with people, much less who to talk to them about.

I’ve kept certain parts of my life so isolated and locked away from other parts that it would be disorienting to mix them.  There are still certain things I don’t want certain people knowing or I don’t think they’d ever understand, mostly because I’ve just never shared any of the information so it would be really confusing for somebody who was there during that part of my life to suddenly hear about other parts.

I was really good at compartmentalization and apparently still am.

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