I’VE BEEN KEEPING THINGS FROM YOU
How To Know What To Share
Over the summer, something devastating happened in my career. It was the sort of news that filled me with shame and made me question my creative abilities for months. Normally, I would process something like that by writing a post about it to help me work through my feelings and connect with readers who have had similar experiences. Except this time, I was explicitly told not to talk about it. The reasons for keeping it all hush hush made logical sense, so I agreed. But after sharing so much of myself online, for almost a decade, the omission felt weird.
When we get in the habit of sharing either online or with certain people in our life, it can feel like a sort of betrayal to keep something to ourselves. But the reality is I have always kept certain things to myself. I can think of two big issues in my life right now (on top of the career mishap) that I have never ever addressed despite spending hours a week talking and writing about my life. The reason is because they involve other people. And while I have every right to share whatever I want about myself, that right doesn’t extend to sharing other people’s business. There are certain things that I know are off-limits for me to discuss and, while that can be frustrating at times, I know it is more important to maintain my personal relationships than give in to my impulse to share every detail of my life.
This self-censorship also extends to my own thoughts and opinions. There are certain “hot takes” I would never post on Twitter because I know nuance doesn’t exist on the internet and it isn’t worth getting dragged through the mud by people who don’t agree with me. I also try to stay in my own lane when it comes to certain discourses because, even if I have an opinion about it, I know my opinion doesn’t matter.
Some of you might be reading this and thinking, “DUH, you’re not supposed to share all of yourself with other people—especially online.” But as someone with OCD, I have had to learn how to not compulsively share. Growing up, my family nickname was Allison Spill The Beans Raskin. If you wanted something to stay a secret, you better not tell me about it.
Unsurprisingly, a large part of me getting a better handle on my mental health has been learning how to share because I want to and not because I have to avoid discomfort. I’ve come to accept that not everyone is entitled to know everything about me, and I am not “deceiving” them by keeping some things private. I am not a liar or a totally different person than who you all think think I am. But there is more to my life than you can find through Google. I even keep a couple things from my husband! (Although he doesn’t believe me given my blabbermouth personality.)
Despite my progress, knowing what is healthy to share has become harder now that oversharing is rewarded. In creative fields, people are always asked “why are you the person that can tell this story?” This often means writers and creators have to bare themselves in order to stand out from the crowd. In some ways, this has led to incredible storytelling that benefits everyone. Other times, though, people share not because they want to but because we have created a society that monetizes and celebrates trauma. I wonder how many college applicants have reluctantly disclosed deeply personal details about their lives and families to increase their chances of acceptance. (My guess is a WHOLE LOT.)
I’ll admit that I’ve even been guilty of pushing people to share certain things about themselves. While misguided, this instinct came from a good place. So much of my career success has come because I have no problem openly discussing my mental health issues. And I have found so much gratification in knowing that by sharing my experience others have felt more comfortable about their own. I figured being so open was a win-win scenario that I should encourage in other people. Except, I forgot a crucial detail.
You don’t owe anyone your story if you aren’t ready to tell it.
While it can be beneficial to open up about our struggles for a variety of reasons—community, the release of shame, the ability to get a new persecutive—you need to be ready to share. You also don’t need to share everything all at once. It is okay to say, “I have OCD,” without getting into the nitty gritty details (like how the other day I changed my pants because it brushed against one of our garbage cans). Being an open and vulnerable person is a spectrum--not an edict to give everything to everyone.
Having more control over my disclosures also helps me be more selective about who I want to share with. I get to decide if I think this friend would be a good person for this problem or if this family member isn’t in the right headspace for me to unload on at the moment. And I’m finally able to do all of that without feeling guilty in the pit of my stomach. I can be my authentic self without telling you every single thing that has caused me to be myself.
Still, old habits die hard, and I still find it difficult to withhold certain things. (Like what happened over the summer. Although I’m sure some of you sleuths will be able to figure it out soon enough.) But I recognize that there can be power and healing in not sharing something while you’re in the middle of it. As much as I wanted to blast my bad news the moment it happened, keeping it private gave it time to work itself out (in the best way possible). Time not only gives us perspective, but it also helps us understand how something will play out in the larger narrative of our lives in a way that immediate disclosure doesn’t. The same story can change given a different context or feeling around it.
There are all sorts of reasons we share things. It’s a way to foster intimacy and connection. It’s a way to change other people’s perspectives. And it’s a way to leave our mark on the world. It’s just important to remember that sharing should be a choice not a default setting--especially when it comes to the more delicate details of our lives. Like that mysterious thing I’m still not allowed to tell you about.
xoxo,
Allison
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I used to overshare for three reasons, in order of difficulty to recognize and stop: 1) as a defense mechanism and trauma response; 2) to trauma bond because I thought that was friendship; 3) I'd dump details of issues I was in the middle of onto friends to expel my dysregulation and because I didn't trust myself to deal with it on my own.
I still struggle with (3) but I'm a lot better than I was and don't really do (1) or (2) at all. What I've been thinking about a lot lately is minimizing (3) more - I have a therapist and a journal, I can make better use of them. It would help me feel more secure and grounded to trust myself to handle an issue. I can share broad strokes after if I want, or seek specific advice from someone with relevant experience, but that's different. I've found that managing all the moving parts that come with sharing and others' input often complicates situations and makes them last longer and be harder to navigate by adding their own angles, etc.
Secondly, and relatedly, I left Twitter last November and didn't have any public SM for almost a year. I've started using IG a bit more and am shocked at how uncomfortable I've become with strangers on my stuff. I'm happy to engage with people on comments elsewhere or in a public group on FB, but have come to view my own spaces more privately.
I also am building more in person friendships and community to crowd out the pseudocommunity that keeps me scrolling mindlessly. The way we consume other people's lives has gotten a bit weird and I want to be more intentional with my entire online presence.
Yes AND!! Overaharing, I've learned, is a trauma response. I used to do it, and I'm learning when and when not to. I still catch myself overexplaining sometimes. Gentle reminders to stop are helpful.