If Only I had a way to share my secret…

Got something juicy that you want to share but can’t?  Or something so embarrassing you think everyone will laugh and point?  Or maybe you carry a burden that is weighing you down so much you feel like you are swimming through sand?  If only you could write down your secret, mail it to a complete stranger, who would then publicly post your secret, but with no ability to trace it back to you.  *Sigh*  Sounds freeing.  SO much safer than sharing your innermost thoughts and secrets with a complete stranger in line at the loo.

Millions of people around the world agree and have shared their secrets anonymously via PostSecret.  It was started by Frank Warren in 2005 as a community mail art project in which he asked folks to mail their secrets on a homemade postcard.  He would collect the secrets and post them on a website for all to see.  The only restrictions on the secrets are they must be completely truthful and must never have been spoken before.

What shall you send?  Others have shared admissions of sexual taboos and criminal activity to confessions of secret desires, shocking habits, hopes, fears and dreams.  Guilt and shame can be eradicated by putting the secret unto a postcard and sending it to someone. 

Send postcards to:

28241 Crown Valley Parkway  #F224
Laguna Niguel, CA 92677
https://postsecret.com/

Please note, this is NOT a replacement to therapy or counseling and is not being encouraged as such. 

If Only Extra: 

For some reason folks share things with me.  All. The. Time.  I am out in the wild on a consistent basis and since I have never met a question I won’t ask; I must lead people to this crazy over-sharing.  I don’t want to hear how you are having an affair and all the sorted details, but, Fred, don’t let that stop you.  Of course, Fred is not his real name, but I’m pretty sure the story was very truthful (too many details shared) and cathartic for him to share with a total stranger. 

I was flying NYC to DFW in the 2009-ish time era on American Airlines when not every flight was full.  I boarded the plane, and every person got their own 3 rows if they so chose, all 30 of us.  It was the last flight of the day so us stragglers catching the last flight only had to make the decision of red, white or whiskey to go with the peanuts.  No food served, no checking on you, the lights would be lowered, and the flight attendants were catching up on rest.

Except Fred.  I took seats A-C in row 6, and Fred took D-F.  We had the bulkhead, so the wall made us feel like we were in our own bubble.  Fred apparently felt safe, very safe.  I had my glass of wine and listened to the tales Fred spun of his affair with a woman, while he had a wife and daughters at home.  He worked for the airline, and traveled a considerable amount to Dallas, where she resided.   They had met at training while he was in Dallas and “it just happened”.  After the 3 ½ hour flight, plus taxi and takeoff, I knew every intricate detail of Fred’s marriage, affair and travel patterns.  He just unburdened. 

While I try not to judge people for their mistakes, I don’t have to condone the behavior.  With Fred I was pretty direct – “end the affair”.  As we are about to get off the plane Fred asked me for my contact info.  I was sure this was a secret sharing experiment for him and I was the last person he would ever want to run into again.  Nope.  Over the next couple of years he would text me to see when I was passing through LaGuardia and come meet me to say hi.  He ended the affair finally, but I don’t think he ever fixed the actual problem.  I’m not a therapist, just a blogger…