my hideous consumption of cheddar jack cheez-its
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the answer of the week...
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My shame.
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My true self to people that pay me my pay check
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i hide hiding
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My age, My weight, My.....wait a minute; I'll shut up now. I'm in hiding...
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i don't. i just can't find the right kind of view for whats inside. picture this; your wife is having your first child. suddenly the doctor, a 'scientist', decides that this particular birth isn't necessary relative to his findings. both mother and child die.
now picture having the time capsule that gets you back there, however.
wouldn't you hide that?
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I hide my self deprivation by surrounding myself with lovely things......lovely fragrances, flowers, artwork, antiques, and lovely foods. While the abundance of lovliness is pleasing, it also colludes with my denial.
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my comic book collection from my 3 year-old
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I am quite transparent...albeit selectively. I am careful with whom I share my vulnerabilities. So I guess it's safe to say I hide my insecurities and vulnerabilities from people I don't trust or know well enough to yet confide in. With those close to me, I am slow to admit when depression settles in. The primary characteristic of depression for me today is that I isolate. My communications by email become very clipped. I'm just flat and I lose vigor for life and relationships. I have learned to trudge pretty well, however. And then it gets better (with meds).
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Unfortunately I think I hide my true inner self from a lot of people. It's a safety thing I guess. Probably pretty common these days. But those I'm closest with, I make the effort to let go and just be there.
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My ineptitude.
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On a material level - I inherited my great aunt's engagement ring which has a vvs1 diamond worth about $4400. I treasure it not just because of the value, but because it was given to Aunt Mary by her beloved Harry who was a trumpet player in a swing band. I have this ring well-hidden in my house, although once in awhile I wear it to the local coffeehouse just for goofs. Everyone thinks it's a cubit zirconium.
On a physical level - I have epilepsy, which I very seldom tell people. There is such a stigma against seizure disorders in this country that I have found it's better not to let people know. To tell people is to risk losing jobs, friendships, opportunities of all kinds....
On an emotional level, I hide that I am a survivor of child abuse and neglect. Children of abuse are conditioned by their abusers not to tell anyone what is happening, to keep what is going on a secret no matter what. This conditioning is so intense that it is hard to break, even as an adult. I have also found that society tends to see survivors of abuse as "damaged goods", and I do not wish to be seen that way.
By the way, lest you think my life is depressing...I'm actually very happy and have a great life these days!
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My fat.
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10 Health Problems
9 Age
8 Baldness
7 My disorganization
6 Sexual attraction
5 Wisdom
4 Joy
3 Anger
2 Frustration
1 Sadness
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I couldn't possibly comment
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My shame
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Extreme procrastination. It's a source of deep shame and anguish to me, and I can't convey the depths of it to friends and family even if they want to know about it. It doesn't affect my professional life, so it appears that all's well. As long as I work with other people, I know I'll come through.
If it's my personal life, it's another story. It's what it must be like to be a secret alcoholic. I don't have stacks of newspapers completely filling my house, but I seem to have the mental /psychic equivalent of that condition. Everyone I know has some problem with this issue, so I know I'm not unique. But my abuse of it may be. I'm grateful that I'm not looking at this from my rocking chair in a retirement home. I have a new CD out, and it'll force me to take some action.
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My vulnrability. From God.
And then I don't. And things get better.
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The cat treats.
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wouldn't YOU like to know
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I don't hide anything anymore. I leave it all in the open. If you learn something new, that's good. If you take something, itwasn't really mine to start off with...
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Too much of my true self. There's a fear that I will be rejected if you knew the "real me." I'm getting better at accepting myself. Working the 12 Steps has helped with that a lot, but the old ideas are deeply ingrained and hard to eradicate. I do find, as I get older, I'm less shy about speaking my mind about some things. However, the basic shyness remains.
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not much. I am transparent. you can read my emotions on my face. I wear my distress visibly. sometimes I try to hide my addiction, but even that leaks through. I don't have any secrets. even the things I am deeply ashamed of, are known by many. sometimes I feel raw, exposed, vulnerable, like the whole world knows every detail of me.
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my stomach (I HATE bikinis)
my true feelings, sometimes appropriately, sometimes not
my insecurity and belief that I have failed somehow, some old idea of success in my head
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If I told you, it wouldn't be hidden! Suffice it to say, I have a rock-solid vault with all sorts of things protected.
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I had a face lift. It embarrasses me that I am so superficial and vain.
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My knees
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in the right company, my misery!
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The fact that I'm broke. Because I dress well (cheap vintage, real cheap, just bought a skirt for a penny, seriously) people would never know.
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My love for midget porn
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The fact that, even at my age, I am not comfortable or very successful around women and I still masturbate a lot.
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I hide anything that will make me look bad. I could tell you what those are, but then I would have to hurt you.
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I keep a fair amount of cash (by my standards) inside a book called "The Joy of Signing," so if you break into my apartment, that's what you should look for -- that and my Fender Vibrolux amp, which is behind some suitcases and boxes.
That's all I'll say.
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And mine...
Used to be my cellulite. But now that so many people compliment me on my butt, and they don't see it, I don't pay much attention.
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