Secrets Keep You Sick

I worked at a rehab a few years back. It ended up being the most toxic environment I ever existed in, but that's a different story, for a different day. Anyway, there were always these cutesy little statements to remind the clients to continue to walk the path of sobriety. One of those statements was "secrets keep you sick." And I agree, especially as Alcoholics Anonymous largely requires people to own their shit. I'm a bit of an open book myself (ironically, something I'm working on myself, I need to scale back being so open in my personal life), but I can definitely see how certain secretive behaviors can be bad for a person.

A few weeks back, I decided to take a walk down memory lane, and I looked back at my blogs from the last couple of years. It's kinda cool to look back on moments I'd completely forgotten about, as I focus on the here and now. One of the blogs I'd stumbled across was here. In it, my good friend Brandon was caught up with a woman who was a complete mess. I'd begged Brandon over the years to leave this woman where he'd found her, but he was determined to make this relationship work. I'd even said in the post that I felt like things were even worse than Brandon had let on, and it seems that I was right.

Brandon had told me some time ago that he was still living with her and occasionally sleeping with her. I'd hit him with the tried and true advice of "don't stick your dick in crazy." He assured me that there was no emotional attachment, just the midnight visit every now and again. I reminded him that even if he was done with her in his mind, in her mind, those sneaky links meant they were still connected.

I can't lie, I was pretty frustrated watching it from the sidelines. I guess it's my history with narcissism and abusive behavior in relationships, but I learned that those people cannot be saved. Nigga, run!! But Brandon remained hopeful in her promises to go to therapy and that "this time" would be different. 

Brandon finally admitted to me that not only were they occasionally midnight buddies, they were still very much a couple, until he'd finally had enough. Although he'd initially told me that he was done with her and only remained there as a her roommate, after xyz offenses, he had in fact held onto her for years. I do kind of wish he'd been open with me that he was still trying to make an honest woman of her, but I get it. He was hoping to work on things with her and emerge with the new and shiny version of her that he'd hoped to eventually carve out. But thing about broken people is that they have to actually want help. And no degree of praying, playing, or pretending will ever cover that up.

At some point, maybe a month ago, Brandon finally had enough. He concocted an elaborate plan, where he'd move all of his things out, while she was at work and completely block her on everything. I wanted to write about it before, but I decided against it, as it isn't uncommon for friends of friends to read my blogs, in hopes of finding out what their loved ones are up to. I didn't want the cat out of the bag until he was completely free.

More than anything, I was glad that Brandon had decided that he was done. I recall the stories early on, and I knew back then that she was trouble. But as my previous post repeated "he was in love." It just shows how much shame will keep us quietly glued to others. We revel in the secrecy, while trying to make sense of the shameful mess in front of us.

I'm not quite sure how I knew that things were worse than he'd let on. Perhaps it was my strong intuition, or the way he seemed to gloss over what most people would call glaring red flags. Out of respect for him, I'll refrain from sharing some of the most egregious behaviors she exhibited. But it just goes to show how love can blind us from obvious flaws and how shame can scoot us in to the closet of secrecy. Hoping to show a united front to the world, while behind closed doors, we do all we can to maintain our peace while walking on eggshells to keep who we believe to be the love of our lives, from having an explosive tantrum. And while that person may put on their best for the people they hope to impress, at home they're a ticking timebomb, who you do your best to not set off. 

As he'd decided that he was done, I sent Brandon a link to that particular blog, and to his credit, after reading it, he proudly proclaimed "I was a dumbass!!" and I appreciate his honesty and candor. It takes a big man to own that not only is the relationship over, but he ignored not just flags, he ignored red stop signs, flags, flashing lights and personally crafted billboards that told him that she was for the streets. No judgement, I've certainly made my own mistakes in love.

I'm just glad that Brandon finally left, but I hate it for my poor  friend that he had to endure what he did. The good is that he finally made it out of the clutches of his narcissistic ex and he'll be able to quickly identify those signs in the future. The bad is that, knowing what I know about being one of their victims, he will spend months, if not years trying to make sense of what the fuck happened and how lost he got in that mess.

While we're talking about secrets, I guess I'll let you in on mine. Ugh. So yeah, the Fine Ass Maintenance Man (a.k.a. FAMM) is still in the picture. I know I'd sworn him off. I saw those red flags that waved the first date and I knew that I needed to toss his gorgeous ass back into the sea of penises. And lord knows I tried. It had been months since we'd seen one another. And although I thought about him on occasion, I'd made up my mind that we'd run our course and it was time to part. I was very much making peace with being alone.

But as I learn to tackle home ownership, I found myself unable to turn off my lawnmower one day. I knew there was too much gas in it for it to run out on it's own. I called my cousin, Doc, only to remember that he was out of the country. There weren't too many men for me to call so that I could learn what to do. Ugh. I had no choice.

"Hey you" he answered in that jazzy, melodic voice of his. "Hey," I started. "I know it's been a while, but you told me to call you with any house issues and I can't get my lawnmower to turn off." He immediately knew that the spark plug was the answer and he navigated me to shutting off the power. I asked if he was still working at the previous apartment complex where we met, and he told me he was not. Since then, he'd just been winging it, doing solo HVAC and handy man work.

We'd occasionally shoot one another text messages or quick phone calls to check in afterwards. And I'll be honest and share that every time I'm in a room with that man, I want to strip him down with my teeth and tie him to my bed. Although I pride myself with how indifferent I'd acted toward his presence when we were in person.

But then, one day, I got that hankering. Against my better judgement, I called him one evening and told him that I had an itch that needed to be scratched. He told me that he'd be happy to help me with that. Yeeeah buddy lol.

I was kind of ashamed to post here that I'd backslid into his arms and life. We were doing just fine, on opposite sides of the world. He and I recently laughed about how different we are. To his credit, there are moments where he makes a "just fine" place holder. And other days, his inconsistency rears its ugly head and I remember what I'm dealing with and why I left him alone previously. I also remind myself regularly that he's really just a fun thing to do until something and someone real shows up.

A while back, I was out checking my mail, when a neighbor stopped me to point out the leak that was in front of my yard. I hadn't noticed it, as it had been raining a lot, I assumed the water in front of my yard was just runoff. I wasn't sure exactly where the water was coming from and I tried to call the county, but they were less than helpful in determining who was on the hook for the repair. One day, I was out in the yard and I saw an extremely lush area of grass that sloshed under my shoe. Shit. FUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKK.

I'd checked again with my cousin, and he assured me that he knew a guy who could take care of it and give me a fair price. Another day, in passing, I'd mentioned to FAMM that I was about to have to pay for this stupid leak. He stated that he'd be willing to take a look at it, and if not too big of a repair, he could fix it. I was so thankful then that I'd been smart about squirreling away bits of money. Obviously I'd pay him for the work, although he agreed to charge me far less than I know others would.

He came to my home that first day, wearing all black. I watched as he dug a deep trench in my gorgeous grass. He was covered in mud, head to toe, by the time he was done. And I gotta be honest. I felt almost animalistic watching this man knowingly dig up my yard. Something about watching him know what he was doing was sexy af. Men are so soft these days that it's so refreshing to come across a guy who isn't afraid to get dirty and knows how to take care of a house and vehicles. I also appreciate knowing that he's able to make repairs and remodels, like my bathroom flooring and closet door I want installed. I even gave him a key, although he has no need for it at the moment. It's more so that he an access things to repair them when I'm away. But I'm always in awe watching him work. I told him how much I love it when he's in problem-solving mode.

Speaking of secrets, dude is absolutely not online and I'm a bit mystified by that, but I get it. When I first realized that he was my middle school classmate, I attempted to find anything I could on him. I reached out to friends from school, and none of them had been in touch with him. I recalled him telling me how he'd taken the acrobatics he'd done when we were kids, and he'd been flipping with the Atlanta Hawks as well. I loved hearing him talk about traveling during his teenage and young adult years.

No doubt in my mind that had the internet been around when we were kids, there would be dozens of clips of him doing backflips and summersaults all over Atlanta. He admitted to me that every now and again, he'll still do a flip, just to see if he can. All of those amazing acrobatic talents, coupled with his ability to rap, sing, and produce (his mother was a pretty well-known singer during the 70's), and he has zero online presence, except for the Facebook page he only occasionally uses for Marketplace. I'm trying to get him to be online more so that he can at least drum up business, since he's an entrepreneur now. The man is his own secret.

I guess at the end of the day, we've all got our own quiet thoughts and moments, that we protect for whatever reason. Sometimes, it's shame. Sometimes, we just don't want to hear anyone's mouth. Other times, we just want to exist in our own bubble.

Secrets can definitely keep you sick. But oddly enough, they can also keep you sane.