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You're Only As Sick As Your Secrets
I was attending a presentation by Pulitzer Prize winning author, Frank McCourt, discussing the ins and outs of writing a memoir. Frank McCourt won the prestigious award for his marrow wrenching description of his impoverished life in Limerick, Ireland titled "Angela’s Ashes".
I had received the tale from my grandfather on the day of my grandmother’s funeral. I was wandering around their house, trying to find a memento of my grandmother that I could carry with me to sustain the closeness I always felt with her. Due to my passion of reading, my grandfather suggested I bring one of her many books.
Next to her bedside was "Angela’s Ashes" and I knew in an instant that that was what I was meant to take with me.
My grandmother’s parents were immigrants from Ireland and she had passed her heart of her heritage onto me.
What a fitting welcome to construe a narrative about Ireland that was sitting next to her bed the day of her funeral. I devoured the tale in a few days and, although the memoir was sad, shocking and inspirational all at the identical time, I felt an even deeper connection to my grandmother and our Irish roots.
I adage my grandmother’s sister a few weeks end and told her how touched I was to peruse the book; how it felt like my grandmother had left it specifically for me.
She smiled, patted my labourer and in a sweet voice she oral “Honey she HATED that book”. She explained that the Irish do NOT chatter about their secrets and the source had bared his children secrets for the complete world to read.
After the presentation about his experience writing his memoir, I waited in sequence for my ensue to obtain my story signed.
When I was finally in escort of him I uttered “Mr. McCourt, I loved your book. My grandmother however hated it”. He looked up at me and spoken “She was Irish?” I nodded and he told me that that was the method of it; the Irish did not like him sharing his secrets.
It was in that moment that I realized the undertone of my heritage; I started to see things from a clearer perspective.
Until then I never noticed how “undesirable” things were not discussed or how certain stories and rumors were neither confirmed nor denied.
Things were often swept under the carpet and left there.
However years final I attended a recovery program to covenant with my ex-husband’s alcohol addiction.
In that program I witnessed people baring their souls to whole strangers week after week and I watched them vacate each meeting lighter. I listened in awe but furthermore with an uncomfortable feeling; a teaching of nakedness and exposure.
Then I heard the epigram that changed how I approached my situation:
“You’re only as sick as your secrets”
If I wanted to obtain better, I vital to be perceptive to ration and disburden myself from the people, places and things that I instinctively wanted to search subservient the rug of my mind.
Once I began to open up and measure my story, I began to see why Frank McCourt was compelled to write his memoir; he was tired of being sick from his secrets.
As I write this blog I am aware of the gibing that, it took someone else’s alcohol addiction to support me become healthier. I besides know that my grandmother smiles from eternity every situation she reads what I’ve written and she’s proud that I am momentary along my openness to the sequential generation; my issue bequeath comprehend what it procedure to be Irish AND say about their deepest, darkest thoughts without judgment.
Hopefully they in turn commit gulch along a passion of their heritage and a willingness to break the infection of secrets.
• How flexible and ethical was your heirs of origin? What did you learn from how certain situations were handled?
• What secrets are you keeping fix now? Who do you own in your life that you trust to help you and allow you to ration your secrets?
• How trustworthy are you for someone to slice their secrets? How can you assistance another comrade to unload themselves?