This question is making me think some interesting things. Who knows what amongst my family and friends? Well, my family doesn’t know that I’m bipolar or that I have marital problems. Most of my friends don’t know that I’m bipolar or that I have marital problems, but I’m changing that slowly. My wife knows the general outlines of everything that I write here. Not in excruciating detail, like she would find if she were to look, but she really doesn’t want to know that, or so she’s said.
But what would happen if people were to find out? Would it be so bad? I think I feel the most shame in front of my family. For them I am a failure and I don’t really want to give them more ammunition for that. But there is little to lose if they do try to shame me further. I might lose a week’s vacation a year, and a few extra people at the dinner table at holidays. I would also lose a long car trip every time I went to visit them, and that would make life a lot easier.
The truth is that they’d probably lose more. They would lose access to their only grand children. So I doubt they would make much of a fuss. They might even pretend it didn’t exist. And, as I said, since they already think I’m a failure, they could hardly think worse of me. Still, I’d rather not have to deal with it, because I am still sensitive, and still hopeful that some day I’ll do something that will impress them; make them feel like it was worth the effort of bringing me up (other than giving them grandchildren).
As to my friends—well, they are my friends—sort of. They would accept me even though I am a major fuck-up. The only problem is that one of my friends is my brother’s significant other. So telling her would be like telling my family. In fact, it is a real problem not telling them what is going on with me. It comes between us.
So if any friend were to identify me, it would probably be a positive thing. If any family member were to identify me, it really couldn’t make things a whole lot worse. I still feel shame about my mistakes, and that reminds me of my feelings of worthlessness, but that’s just a thought. It’s not me. And it can’t really make me feel any worse. There is little reason now to care about what my family thinks. They would be too uncomfortable to talk about it anyway. It might even be funny to see them bottle it all up, knowing they probably want to talk, but telling themselves it is none of their business. Hoisted on their own petard!
