Hey, Light... story for ya. I'm still processing what I think/feel about all this - but I'm inclined to eventually decide that this instinct we have - this instinct to keep quiet about what we've survived and healed from is natural; but also a bit unnecessary.
So, we moved to a new state and a whole neighborhood of new people. We joined what amounts to the neighborhood social club - folks that get together around kayaking and playing on the water and who every couple of months throw a party for a specific holiday - or like last night's: the harvest full moon. I don't train for marathons, walk my dog, or bicycle - or have kids living at home and many of our houses sit off the road far enough, so that we don't see our neighbors very much. This group gives us a chance to get to know people. Most of them have no idea who we are - and I'm aware that I have preconceptions about them and that they probably have the same about us. For our part, we tend to self-deprecate too much - characterizing ourselves as the "beverly hillbillies" come to shake up the routines around here. (Right; as inhibited as I am??? Not likely.) My next-door neighbors are a bit shocked that I do all the housework and my husband does the lawn care. But, on the other hand - they're very down to earth, regular folks too. They have a "story", having lost a son to suicide - albeit 15 years ago - and it's clear that this retreat of theirs is part of their healing process. But, that's all I know - it's sort of them defining a boundary about how they want to spend their time here and how much they want to share about that experience. So, I've simply responded with a "hey if you get bored, just come knock on the door" open invitation.
So, I'm sitting there on the beach enjoying the full moon and the waves and I start picking up another conversation behind me. A couple has a daughter who is mentally ill. And of course, the parents are bending over backwards to find ways to blame themselves, and some friends are trying to talk them out of that - compassionately, and with some experience in their own lives illuminating their suggestions. And that's when it hit me that my own preconceptions about these people are just as unfair to them as the imaginary ones I attribute to them thinking about us, are. They are still real, genuine people... not people who believe they "are" their masks or socio-economic status. With stories that are just as excruciatingly painful to them as ours are to us. We're all in the same boat, really. Regardless of "who" we are, where we are in life, what else our life consists of.
The natural instinct to not share these kinds of things, I think, is knowing that there is a time and place and maybe even particular person. When I'm not sure how someone will react, I use my "reader's digest version"... avoiding "TMI"... and letting them decide if it's something they want to know more about - about me. And sometimes, you just gotta go with your gut about deciding how much detail to get into. It's possible to relate what happened without transferring the emotional experience or projecting it out to another. But on the other hand, the "stigma" and fear of rejection or whatever... maybe isn't nearly as probable a response as we're afraid it might be. Any time we share something this personal, it's a risk - and also a possible "trust" relationship. Of course, it's way too easy to impose expectations of responses that were learned in relationship with Ns, socio's and psychos onto other people. Expecting everyone to react that way and wanting desperately to avoid that completely, in the future. This conditioned fear does lessen over healing-time - but it's real experience too; so it is one that remains imprinted on the brain's fear centers. For good reason.
I know I'm what you'd call "risk-averse" when it comes to opening myself up to new, other people. But I'm coming to believe that this can be a form of self-limitation too. If I ever hope to connect with and establish relationships with new people I have to take the risk and then be prepared for all the possible results of that risk. You know - what Hops' calls "releasing the outcome".
It's like learning how be with people - all over again, right from the beginning. Beginners make mistakes; that's how we learn. So we have to take the lessons from the experience, be compassionate with ourselves (and others), and try, try again. But the process can be a lot of fun - with lots of positive revelations - and the "do-over" on this area of our lives can be less fraught with the anxieties of the past. It can also show us way more about ourselves than we learned the first time, too.
