CEBU, Philippines - There was a time when my phone rang regularly past midnight. The calls normally lingered way until daybreak. The routine lasted for quite a time, until one day - sadly, but thank God as well - it stopped. My caller gave up on me.
Those calls that interrupted my sleep were one-sided. My caller needed to unload stuff that was making her life heavy. She would blabber on about her unhappiness, her fantasies and hidden desires, which found outlet only in being told.
She found release with me, at my inconvenience. But I didn't mind; I understood that it was the better way for her. The other option would be far too costly for her good name and public image. It was okay with me to be made the repository of her impermissible, other self.
My tolerance was purposely to allow my friend to breathe; it was clear how badly she needed to. But, soon, our nightly appointments took an unlikely turn. She said something which hinted that she felt I "owed her one."
It was not fair that I was always on the receiving end, she indicated. Her point was that as I had already known quite a lot of her secrets, I should also tell her some of mine. The idea astounded me; I was offended.
All the while I thought she understood that I was being kind by listening to her. I was not expecting gratitude, though (I tried to condition myself to enjoy those lengthy conversations, and, yes, I did somehow). But I did not expect to be held in anyone's debt for that, either.
She was insistent. She demanded that I open up to her, which I firmly resisted. I had my own way of venting off my inner fumes. Besides, I would do only secret penance to absolve myself of my hidden sins.
I know, of course, that longings, fears and guilt when kept bottled up can eventually overwhelm a person. The number of people that show up at psychiatric clinics everywhere is proof to that. But the weight of my own psychological baggage at the time was nowhere near the danger mark, and I was not in so desperate a state as to want to unload myself with just anybody.
There's no doubt about the healing value of honest self-expression. But, on the other hand, to attempt to secure our cherished relationships by blurring borders of privacy can oftentimes ruin it, instead. When people - whether spouses, close family or dear friends - share their innermost secrets in the spirit of intimacy, they court the possibility of paranoia unto themselves, or are liable to cause distress in their loved ones.
Whether it's between a man and a woman in love or between two close friends, or among family members, a relationship can be spoiled by unnecessary openness. Yes, every profound relationship involves both the impulse and the freedom to be truthful about oneself to the other person. But, like all things, these must be handled with due restraint; otherwise, one may indulge in them to regrettable excess.
For instance, we may exceed the allowable limits of intimacy when we point out to a dear brother what we think are his defects. The flaws we cite may be essential parts of his character. And our well-meaning remarks may be misconstrued as a rejection of his person.
I had another friend whom I asked to fill out a questionnaire when I was gathering data for a documentary film on motherhood. Instead of just simply checking boxes for her answers, she sent me a detailed and incredibly revealing letter. A day after I received it, she frantically called, asking me to burn it.
She wrote the letter late at night when she was feeling so low. In it she related that she often bitterly regretted marrying her husband, who was also a close friend of mine. He had brought her, she said, far less joy than she expected, and, while she swore she loved him so, quite often she hated him.
That was the last time I heard from her. I lost contact with her husband, too. Our friendship was killed by an overdose of her intimacy.
Oftentimes, the very desire to pour out our thoughts to the people we most want to keep in our lives can make us lose them. Conscious and unconscious feelings of guilt develop when we let our friends know too much about us, especially our most guarded secrets. It's the beginning of the end of the relationship.
Most of us have been raised to believe that to tell everything ? our past and present misdeeds, even our ugliest wishes ? is a good thing. We hold total personal transparency to be a virtue. He is a good person who hides nothing. Confession is good for the soul, we are told.
Disposing of guilty thoughts and feelings through self-revelation definitely has its practical value. But if we must reveal our innermost secrets, I believe we need to be very careful. Not everybody may be able to handle what we're going to unload. The persons closest to us, especially, might be devastated to know that we were having another life or keeping other thoughts beyond their knowledge.
There are professionals trained in dealing with mental and emotional distress, who can let us say the worst - in fact, they will encourage it - without themselves being harmed by our disclosures. Trained counselors and therapists have an oath of secrecy, so we will be unloading our secrets into the right ears. Moreover, they have techniques for helping us learn to live with our own feelings.
A priest or pastor can also be a source of much needed mental and emotional relief. The family doctor or lawyer can help a lot, as well; although they may not be in the same level of spiritual ascendancy as the religious, they are often able to perform the same function for the person who needs to relate his inner torment. In more severe cases of inner distress, however, a psychologist or a psychiatrist may be necessary.
Sharing our secrets with others can indeed liberate us from psychological burden. But it can also render us heavily laden with regret for opening up. Others might use our revelations against us. But even if they wouldn't, we ourselves might feel exposed and ashamed, and no longer worthy of their respect.
Those of us who are on the receiving end of secrets must be just as careful with our appetite for confidential declarations. The little entertainment we derive from it can be a threat to our own peace of mind. It can also, as in my case, cost us our precious relationships.
(E-MAIL: modequillo@gmail.com) (FREEMAN)