Deepest Darkest Secrets: The T-Shirt

Over at You are Here, Jean's talking about a judge's decision to make a exhibitionist wear a shirt with his crime on it, just like those old school scarlet letters (really old school). Here's what I said,

"I love the idea of everyone wearing shirts with their deepest darkest secrets on them. I think our secrets can be very imprisoning. And most of them really aren't the big deal we think they are. Other truths can link us to people with similar experiences and develop supportive environments where there once was, perhaps, paranoid anxiety that someone might find out.

I started blogging with my deepest darkest secrets on abortion and rape, and just recently threw in my guy being 18 years younger than me (a former student, even! - you heard that part here first). Every secret we tell about ourselves allows us a bit more freedom to be who we really are - brings us that much closer to living an authentic existence."

Then I added three more comments to clarify a quotation I botched horribly. And it occurred me we should all put how many different drugs we've tried on the sleeves of our shirts. Then it's just out there. Sure there's no real way to ensure accuracy, and some people will want to look cool, and there'll be posturing and competition for the longest sleeves, but at least it's all out there in the open. Maybe my students would talk about drugs less in class if their exploits were clearly advertised.

In my early 20s, when I was seeing a therapist to work on some social skills issues, she asked me, what would happen if I carried a sign that said, "I'm really bad at talking with people."? Actually the sign started out "I'm really shy" but I insisted I'm not shy, I just don't like talking to people. Someone who writes critical articles in the school paper isn't shy. Someone who bursts into two strangers' argument with her own two cents isn't shy. I'll argue anything with anyone, but I suck at chit chat. If two people are discussing the weather, I'd stick a fork in my eye before I'd join them. But I digress.

So I kinda liked the conversation-starter aspect of the sign, yet hated the idea that well-meaning people might talk to me out of pity. And they might be really boring, trying to gently encourage me into a conversation about how I'm doing at school, or how my day's going. And then I'd be stuck doing precisely what I most hate to do. But apparently, that's how we develop friendships in the real world. Bah! I seem to have managed just fine ignoring the rules so far. I just love the Seinfeld episode where Kramer describes the horrors of married life, at the dinner table night after night, "And how was your day?... Fine, and how was your day?" Painful.

But if we all had our crap on our shirts for everyone to see, wouldn't that just change everything. Some people might never leave the house, or never take off their jackets. I see myself as a role model, proudly wearing my baggage for all to see, hoping to inspire a few others to show a bit more of themselves. Because we're all pretty messy when you think about it. We've all had shit done to us, and we've done our share back. The sooner we realize that we're all in this together, and none of us are perfect, and we're all just trying to get through with the least amount of suffering and hopefully some joy in the mix, the sooner we can really start to talk and really start to know one another, and we can finally get this party started.

And nobody will ever ask me about my day again.

***

My shirt - the first draft of my deepest darkest secrets:

Had two abortions.
Was raped.
Raped a guy.
Hit both my kids in a fit of anger. (just once)
Wet my bed until I was 12. (or my floor, as the case may be)
Couldn't talk properly until I was 12.
Had a baby with a former student.
Sexually abused by my brother.
Had my heart broken by SB.
Sometimes I think I suck as a teacher.
Have no ability to start a good conversation.
Love looking in people's windows at night, just at their decorating, not at the people.

This is an interesting exercise. I keep thinking of things I've done that are illegal or immoral, but not at all deep, dark secrets. I'd add them just for interest sake like, did acid at school, or stole a 'no trespassing' sign. And my guy isn't really a secret around here at all (not since I was 6 month pregnant or so). Yet most of the other things aren't secrets to anyone who reads this blog, just to the world at large. And all the things on the list I'll freely talk about if any one of them comes up in conversation. So maybe I'm not looking deeply enough for my secrets, or maybe I'm just an open book.

And on my sleeve,
alcohol (assorted)
beans
speed
acid
mushrooms

We'd all be walking memes!!