Fortified armour

Just when I thought I'd got all that secret business out of my system, it creeps up on me stealthily as I plod through my daily life, getting on with the mundane and the routine, camouflaging the truth.

Do we all have secrets? Simply put, yes. Some of us more than others, some of us less that we'd like and some of us more than others would ever imagine. But we all have them, things that we are ashamed we have done, feelings we are too scared to admit and perhaps relationships that are too taboo for us to emerge unscathed from.

I think I am coming to a realisation. Despite what Frank Warren is telling me; that getting my secrets off my chest and out into cyberspace will bring me some semblance of peace and clarity, I beg to differ. In fact, I like my secrets. Sometimes they may be haunting and sometimes they make me feel giddy inside, and even though I may not always like their content per se, I can't deny that I like having them.

I enjoy knowing that there are some things that only I know, or perhaps me and one other person. The secrets, on some level, contribute to defining who I am, and by giving them away, even to supposed strangers separated by no more than six degrees, I am willingly becoming more vulnerable. Less safe. Increasingly exposed.

Instead, I'll fortify my armour, reinforce my walls and widen my moat...and hold on to my secrets for a little while longer.