This past week has offered much in the way of food for thought about self-disclosure. How much is good? How much is enough, and how much is too little? At what point does non-disclosure become deceit? And why do I feel quite comfortable disclosing information about myself to some people, while I become hesitant, even cagey around others?
I have, within a very short time-frame, been introduced to thirty total strangers who will be sharing a room with me for the next three years. And that's great! But scary at the same time. These people all have their own stories, their own secrets. And I have mine. My biggest secret is likely to make some of them suspicious of me, so I've been keeping it to myself. It's public information, but none of them have easy access to it. Unless I tell them.
I had this conversation with myself for the first three days, and on day four I chose to let four people in on it. They responded a lot better than I thought they would. So maybe things will be okay. But I'm still a bit nervous about coming out to the rest of the class. Wish me luck!
All of this reflection on self-disclosure has also given me space to think about a good friend of mine. He is sincerely convinced that he attracts women who are "messed up", and that this is a really bad thing, and reflects negatively on him, like he must have some kind of defficiency that draws these girls into his orbit. I think he's totally wrong about that. I think he's a genuinely good guy, with a heart of gold. He's a great listener, he does a good job of seeming genuinely interested in what you're telling him when you talk to him. He's the kind of guy whose warmth and charm makes a person feel at ease and able to talk.
A few months back I started trying to have a conversation with my friend, that I hoped would lead him to a place of enlightenment about my personal conviction that everybody on the planet is "messed up" to some extent, the only difference between the ones you know about and the ones you don't know about, are that the ones you know about felt comfortable enough to confide in you, whereas the ones you don't know about are the ones who keep their deep dark secrets to themselves. The chicks that people consider "messed up", are merely the unfortunates who didn't know enough to keep their big mouths shut, who didn't bow to society's taboos.
I knew where I was going with the conversation, and I was trying to take him through it step by step. I wanted to show him the light, rather than tell him about it. But I think I did a bad job of it, misjudged my friend and used entirely the wrong strategy for him. So I only got him halfway through the conversation before he backed out of it in a hurry. And we haven't spoken about anything meaningful since then, because his barriers are so far up and so unshakeable, that I can't get through to him. I am kicking myself. I really didn't expect him to bolt like a horse in a thunderstorm. Goes to show what I know about the subtleties of the male mind.
Yes, I know. Stupid = disclosing some of my own "messed up" story in an attempt to illustrate that there's a lot of "messed up" out there. And yes, I do know what I'm talking about, I'm not just deluding myself: in my line of work, a good number of people confide in me because they are confident that their secrets are safe with me. And I know that I know that I know: the common thread that runs through everyone's life story, is that people have suffered terribly, and have had to struggle to find meaning in their lives, and a reason to keep on living and reaching out to other people. REM said it: Everybody Hurts. I just wish I'd gotten my chance to make my brilliant point. Instead, my brave attempt at self-disclosure-with-the-intention-of-eventually-getting-to-my-point has resulted in my friend being more firmly convinced that he's a magnet for the "messed up". He doesn't have a clue that all of the seemingly "normal" people whose light casts dark shadows over the bravely stupid talkers, are just better at keeping their secrets to themselves. And he's equally clueless that the reason the "messed up" (read "bloody-brave-if-you-ask-me") people find themselves "drawn into his orbit" (read "feel comfortable enough to confide in him"), is simply testament to his charisma, his gift for making people feel accepted and at-ease in his presence.
In my book, he has a simple gift, not a sinister defficiency! But I suppose it's a matter of perspective. I just wonder whether my friend will ever shift his perspective or make peace with his gift, let alone understand how it works or begin to use it for the benefit of the people around him. For my part, I can't force my friend to hear me now that he's decided my presence in his life is nothing more than a testament to everything that he thinks must be wrong with him. I had my shot, and I blew it. Now I have to make peace with that, and let it be.
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