tatjna (tatjna) wrote,

Secrets and why I don't like them.

And in spam today:

"My maid is surprised I have to increase the size of my underwear."


On the theme of underwear, there is something very disconcerting about having your head in a Frenchman's undies. *nod* Especially when you're trying to read. However, the poor lad has to get them dry somehow, and it was windy enough yesterday that the attempt at the washing line method had them chasing their jocks across the fields, and on recapture deciding that the lounge and a fire were probably a better plan. Welcome to Wellington, we have wind.

Today's itchy bit = my entire back. Luckily I can reach most of it because I'm flexible like that. But I really feel that I should make a sign that says "No I don't have fleas. No really." *fidgets*

I am wondering if it's to do with washing powder. With the various movings-in and movings-out that have been going on in my house, there was a week or two where the washing powder situation was a bit laissez faire before I went and got my own, and I'm pretty sure I used some stuff that wasn't 'flat stuff.' It has a very distinctive smell that I really don't like.

I put the dislike of the smell down to association with a person I knew Back In The Day who used it - it permeated the entire house and I associate the smell with squalor, because this person's house was the biggest health hazard I'd ever seen. It doesn't even bear describing - it turned my stomach, and remember I am the person who can dig live maggots out of a gaping wound in a live sheep's ass and not be sick.

So anyway, I'm wondering maybe there's another reason for not liking the smell. Maybe it's actually an irritant, and the residue left in my clothes is making me itch. Or maybe my resistance to such things is lowered because my body is currently littered with tiny bacteria corpses..

Hmm, attractive. Anyone wanna share spit with me? Heh. Speaking of which, I caught myself perving the other day. Actually perving, instead of joke-perving. I think this is a good sign, yeah?

Also, I've been thinking about secrets. I made a decision a while ago to be open about myself and my life and my thoughts. It may be a bit in-your-face, and some people may be taken aback with that level of candidness, but I have an intense dislike of secrecy, and don't like the feeling I get when I'm trying to hide something. My solution? Don't hide things. What good have secrets ever done me? Mostly they've done me harm, and I don't want them in my life.

Which is all fine and dandy when applied to me and my stuff. However, what about other people? If someone confides in me, I feel honour-bound to be discreet about the information they've shared, out of respect for them and their wishes.

But sometimes, for example in the case of the Meeting-Women-For-Coffee-And-Listening-To-Confessions week, I end up carrying secrets for no reason other than to avoid hurting other people. They feel better because they have got the confession off their chest, and I respect the courage of these women in talking to me. I am now, however, carrying their secret for them. And I don't like it. Obviously I am not about to go blurting this information publicly, because it would be hurtful to them and theirs, it would be a betrayal of their trust, and it would also make me a not very nice person in terms of knowing what kind of judgement comes from things like that being made public, and me being a catalyst for that judgement. I don't want to be that person.

So I end up carrying secrets, and being unable to live up to my own principle of being completely open, for the sake of other people and for group social wellbeing.

I feel a resentment that I am honour-bound to protect the privacy and social safety of other people. If I'm completely honest, part of the resentment is probably to do with the perceived lack of respect for me and for my safety. I don't like carrying the weight of other people's bad behaviour in order to protect them from the repercussions of said bad behaviour, especially when the bad behaviour has affected me negatively.

I have no answer. I guess, I wish I could be open about things like that with no fear of nasty recriminations for the people involved. Even more, I wish the people who would be most affected by it would take on my principle and come clean themselves - after all, it's not even my stuff to carry, and if they did that, there'd be no secrets any more.

But I'm aware that trying to push my morals and ethics on other people is a pointless waste of time, and also that as time goes by it'll become less of a big thing in my mind. Roll on that time. Unless, of course, someone has some wise words on ways I can sit with this stuff in my head. Because sometimes the moral high ground isn't a very nice place to be. Just saying.

Also, this isn't so much about The Relationship Breakup, as about how I feel about carrying secrets for other people, and my attempt to come to terms with the fact that in this case, Doing The Right Thing is more important that Doing The Thing That Would Satisfy My Personal Gnosis. ;-/

Also, I'd appreciate anyone who's able/willing to point out flaws in my logic here.

Yes, Happy, I know. "Get over it." I will. But I'll do it in my own time and in my own way, and rambling about it on my blog is one of my ways of processing. Cheers.

Meanwhile, as I typed all that the itching has moved to my right arm. Which is much easier to get at. On the bright side, I should end up with entirely new skin! Exfoliation ftw.. right? Right?
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