Se-cret (noun): a: something kept hidden or unexplained: mystery b: something kept from the knowledge of others or shared only confidentially with a few.

We all have complicated relationships with secrets. The word alone may invoke feelings of guilt or shame; excitement and intimacy; or fear. At times we are hurt by secrets and at other times pleasantly surprised. Secrets are a very curious and nuanced thing.

Over the years, I have shared some of my secrets with my husband, my parents, and brother, or a dear friend. And I have been the dear friend at times, hearing the secrets of those who I have earned trust. Deep in my heart, I hold the secrets of others, some as simple as an embarrassing mistake or gaffe, and others as intense as struggling with sexual expression, marriage trouble, infidelity, and emotional or physical abuse.

When we are told a secret, I believe there is an intense and complex unspoken message from the giver to the receiver. Baring a secret means “I trust you”; it means “This is too much for me to hold alone, please help me”. You see, a secret isn’t always something that is completely hidden, it’s just something that feels safe only to whisper, and only to a few souls.

Holding our own secrets can be toxic to our own hearts and minds. We are built to be our honest and true, authentic selves, and when we hold too much shame, fear, guilt, or pain inside, we crumble. Our own secrets eat us from within until we either break completely or build the courage to speak out. As a mentor once told me, “Confession is good for the soul.” But knowing who and when to trust with our secrets is a much more arduous task. There is a risk calculation about the damage to be done by any violation of trust when sharing a secret. The news getting out too soon about a surprise party is one thing…the potential loss of a job or relationship is quite another.

Over the years, I have learned that not all secrets have to stay hidden forever. Sometimes, what feels like it’s too heavy to say out loud turns out to be only for a season. I’ll go first: depression. It’s a word I never thought I would use for myself. But a career in trauma surgery and life in general and perimenopause are having their way with me. Though at first, it was only my husband and a few close friends who knew my darkest moments, I have recently found the courage to talk to my doctor about it, stay in counseling, and start an SSRI. It was the bravery of a few of my friends to tell me about their struggle with depression and anxiety that gave me the courage to open up about my own and seek the help that I need. Sometimes secrets help us feel normal. And bring us out of the depths of feeling lost and alone in our own little dark inner world. Seeking the help I needed has been nothing short of breathtaking for me. I am stunned by how much better I feel, how much better I am coping, and how much more I am enjoying life because of the prompting of those friends. In medicine, so many of us harbored a fear of retribution or loss of our license to admit our struggles with mental health, but if COVID gave us any kind of silver lining, it was that some of that fear has been shattered and many of us feel safer to speak our truth and get the help we need.

It is no small honor to hold secrets for those I care about. Dare I say it’s even a burden of love? Secrets are an essential element of a strong friendship. I have to know that I can tell you my darkest and scariest moments and that you will hold those for me. I have to know that you will not think less of me when I tell you my truths. And that those secrets stay between us until it’s safe to release to others. I will hold your secrets, and I trust you to hold mine. Secrets are a precious and sacred part of our beautiful, messy, complicated, glorious relationship.

Disclaimer: My viewpoints are not necessarily reflective of my employer, or any local, regional or national organization that I belong to. As a matter of fact, I pretty much just speak for myself. Please keep that in mind.