side effects of honesty??

Posted: July 24, 2013 in Uncategorized

I have been a busy bunny this week, I aided a university and Health authority with their recruitment of a very important role, then did a whole day training in appreciative enquiry, a technique of interviewing to get fresh perspective moving forward, very interesting but tiring.

Today I engaged in some training of professionals around psychological mindedness, which was again interesting but for different reasons. My main part in the day is retelling my story to the staff and explaining the impact their service had on me, my diagnosis and the world I lived in. I was not alone in this, a friend of mine with a different diagnosis told her story and lovely young lady with BPD also did the same. Since I started therapy I have had no problem telling others about my life, as long as its not for gratuitous nosiness I think it works in many ways to help me and also them too.

The problem is in retelling the story I realise new things, forget parts that seemed vital before and it seems to change in an almost organic way as I go over things again and again. I, unlike the other PD patient do not detail the murky events of my childhood in any detail, I never use the word abuse or neglect because I still struggle with the words, and I think admitting that is hard in itself.

I wont go into any detail here either, just for the record. I know so much more about the young boy I was and the man I became than I ever did before but its not important to know details, not for you as the reader or me as the writer. What I did today was say out loud a number of things I had held deeply concealed for a long time. It was pointed out that our actions as PD patients were often a smoke screen for whats really going on, I know this but when asked a direct question by a very nice psychologist I felt it was right to explore that.

I told this room of more or less strangers about the small child I was protecting, not was protecting but  am still in the process of doing so. I revealed the fears I had fought against and the very aggressive stance I had taken up to dispel any suspicion of the fear and loneliness I experienced. I am a big lad, shaven headed and even have a nice Chelsea tattoo to underline my blokeness, I am quite literally an atypical man of a certain type, on the front anyway. This isn’t entirely a façade but so much of it is I cannot reasonably say how much is false and likewise whats real.

The problem is that once the cats out of the bag as it were I have learned the hard way putting it back is not only detrimental but pointless, after all if I should meet any of these people again they have heard it from the horses mouth and I am too proud to ask for the revelation to be quashed, after all it was done in the spirit of training someone who may one day meet a similar character and hopefully they’ll remember my words and act in an appropriate way, that’s got to be worth the small price of uncomfortable feelings at the end of it all surely.

The side effect of honesty is embarrassment and shame, to a lesser degree discomfort and vulnerability and I know that I have nothing to be ashamed of, not do with my PD anyway so discomfort and vulnerability are my lot and they are hardly a drop in the ocean compared to some of the things I’ve been through. I guess I should be happy that that’s as bad as it gets and remember the darkest of days when I would have snapped your arm off to have only those to worry about,

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