Who hasn’t met someone who turns out to have a secret? Who hasn’t met someone whose elements of personality or lifestyle don’t add up? Who hasn’t met someone who is less than transparent, or for that matter, unpredictable in situations that range from routine to dramatic?
Aren’t we all people puzzles of a sort? Do we necessarily “resolve” to a completed picture, every element interlocking from each angle or vantage point?
Struck by a recent disclosure concerning the “truth” of an old friend’s background, I found myself disturbed. This was an individual I’ve known for a number of years, and things in her past stunned me when I learned of them. Then I was chewing on a few truths of my own.
Those truths?
First, I doubt my ability to adequately “see” the people in my life. I consistently expect the best in people, rarely assume hidden agendas, and too easily make excuses for the bad behaviors of others. Second, I wonder if my own “selves” as presented are equally contradictory or inscrutable, and ultimately, misunderstood. Third, perhaps understanding — with an assumption that we arrive at a handful of acceptable “answers” about others — is not a reasonable goal. Moreover, don’t most of us fail to fully understand ourselves? So how can we anticipate that anyone else will be able to put our pieces together?
Thoughts on Transparency in Relationships
Transparency in any relationship can be a tricky issue. Those who feel they must confess their every (perceived) transgression in life to a new romantic interest are, in my estimation, frequently off base when they choose to do so. Tell all? Don’t think so!
Likewise, those who are compelled to share their every opinion with a friend, family member, or colleague — whether appropriate or not. A more practical (and thoughtful?) approach is sharing details that reflect who we are and what we believe, and making sense in context. For example, my preference is to be the savvy but politic straight shooter at work, the compassionate cheerleader for a friend, and in the case of a potential lover or partner, feeling my way toward mutual trust.
Transparency, or for that matter, honesty, is never an absolute.
And do we easily abide by these limits and filters on the theoretical advantages to this honesty?
Hardly. We are emotional, we are cautious, we are our best selves with those we care about as long as possible; we are, some of us more than others, (lovingly?) messy even on our good days, and messier still on the bad.
Misunderstanding?
When asked a direct question, I believe in telling the truth. But we must also consider to whom we are speaking and how best to get a message across. Children, for example — even adult children — ought never to know certain details about their parents.
Friendships, relationships, and marriages require their own (somewhat different) litmus test. Trust is built step-by-step, and often on the basis of our vulnerabilities and regrets as much as our shiniest moments and personal victories.
Adding one more ingredient to this imprecise mix, there is never a single “truth” to interpersonal situations any more than a single truth to a human being. Besides, we alter memory with the years, unwittingly; and we constantly interpret and reinterpret ourselves.
But how do you handle fundamentally conflicting truths? What if you slam into them not in hearing about past incidents, but in your own experience? How do you reconcile a friend’s kindness coexisting with callous indifference, generosity juxtaposed with utter disregard, an evolved capacity for communication offset by sobering silence? What about cruelty?
Ah… Dating Life…
When we’re newly dating (for the first or twenty-first time), what do we disclose? What do we withhold? Will nerves leave us appearing inconsistent or incoherent?
Do we talk about an early marriage that only lasted six months, a period we’d rather forget?
Do we talk about having stayed through two terrible relationships in which there was abuse?
Do we talk about a time when we lashed out verbally at people we love, regretting it after, the result of years of unexpressed resentment?
If we do not share these moments, isn’t this our prerogative? Do we withhold to protect the relationship, or our own self-image? Do we hold back because there’s no reason for this degree of transparency, certainly early on? Do we provide this information freely, only if it comes up?
What information should we reveal no matter what? And when, especially knowing we cannot predict the response that awaits?
We Are All Many People
If I believe that people eventually show us who they are, then I must remind myself that we are all many people. The diverse facets of our personalities are part of the pleasure and fascination of getting to know each other. Most of us would like to believe that even our “worst” selves are not terrible; we are merely human. But what of those who are given to manipulation and who hide it well? What of those who are painfully selfish?
We all act out at times, especially when we’re scared or hurt. We are “not like ourselves” — in our own view, and possibly that of those who know us well.
As for revelations that come many years after the fact such as the one I heard not long ago, should we care? Should we only care if the information sets off a string of realizations about our current relationship with the person involved? With incomplete information about the experiences and motivations even of those who are closest to us, won’t we always bear witness to seemingly incongruous behaviors?
Still, how do we make sense of them? Must we?
Love, Understanding
Some say that when we love someone, we accept them completely — past and present, flaws and fine points. Ideally, I might agree. But what happens when we don’t know the full picture of what has come before? What if some of the “bad” is worse than we imagine? Won’t this damage the relationship as it is now?
What happens if the past, once discovered, is in conflict with everything we’ve come to rely on about our friendships, our love relationships, the foundation on which we have built trust and belief?
Shouldn’t we ask ourselves if exceptional circumstances were or are at play? And what role, forgiveness?
To find oneself facing the picture of an intimate that clashes with the mental and emotional image we’ve constructed is, to say the least, disorienting. Is it all a matter of degree, and the alchemy as well as expectations of those involved? If we accept that each of us is a puzzle to some extent, shouldn’t we reach for understanding?
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What I love about DPOC is the fascinating and interesting subject matter. However there are usually so many different points covered that it is difficult to answer or respond to all. After reading today’s post, I’d like to ask for your opinion on one question. My youngest sister always used to say this, (Usually referring to our parents and how we were raised.) Do you believe that we are ALL a product of our environment?
At times, I intentionally leave ‘unclosed loops’ to see how others (readers) may interpret. The questions are intended to encourage thought (and conversation). This is one of those times.
Naturally, the specifics of context and individual come into play. For that matter, the mood of a given day may color how we respond to a certain remark, action, or piece of information.
Your question, Ron? What do you think?
Having raised two boys, very close in age (of the same parents), it is obvious to me that ‘nature’ plays a significant role, not just nurture (environment). That said, I believe environment to be extremely important, and not just in childhood.
My two cents.
I always thought it a little unusual that my Father was fifteen years older than my Mother, but I never found an appropriate enough reason or context in which to inquire. I thought I had once heard an uncle make a casual remark about a previous marriage, but I thought he had either misspoken (he was at the point where age and lifestyle were taking their toll) or I had misheard.
My Father passed away fifteen years ago, and since my Mother is now 86 we are seeing the need to identify old photos. In one such session I asked about an unmarked photo and was told it must have been someone my Father dated. Since the passing of my Father I have gotten much closer to my Mother and thought the time was finally right to ask about my uncle’s statement.
She said that yes, my Father had been married before. When I asked why this had never been mentioned, she said that it hadn’t seemed important. I suppose that from their point of view it would have been no easier to bring this subject up than it would have been for me to broach the question of the age difference – neither subject being one you just mention out of the blue. But I’m pretty sure I would have looked at my Father differently (and possibly my Mother) had I known. It was a somewhat startling and sad thing to find out so late.
So interesting, Robert. You say you would’ve responded to your father differently. Differently in a bad way? Perhaps then they were right to say nothing?
These are such gray areas…
Hmmmm – very interesting question. I had to think about this, as there were some contradictions. The conclusion I come to is – No, quite the opposite.
In retrospect I think I always looked at my parents as rather one dimensional, not quite real people. In my eyes they were rather unemotional, just tactical, doing the things necessary to get through life. My interpretation of them would have been far richer had I known more about the things they had dealt with, and the expectations of relationships I carried into adulthood would have been much different.
They were pretty open and deep about what the complexities of life did to people, and were understanding, and taught me to be that way. This was very understandable given what I knew at the time about their backgrounds. Both came from modest rural areas, and my Mother’s vocation was teaching in an inner city school.
But they didn’t talk about themselves. It wasn’t until decades after I left home and got married that I learned from my aunt about abuse from their parents, and how my Mother had run away from home to escape. I’ve reconstructed that my parents were probably soldiering on, concealing past and current problems for the benefit of the kids. Although the fathers in two nearby households had long since “moved on”, divorce was always treated as something done only by the highly dis-functional. My conclusion is that their highest value was the maintenance of the family unit, consistent with that era’s prevailing values, and they were either slightly ashamed of the divorce, or did not want to confuse the picture they were otherwise conveying. But any judgments I made would have been in response to the picture they painted, and in accordance with the values they instilled, so if me judging was a concern, they could have woven that into the picture. I never thought ill of my Father and can’t imagine thinking less of him because of this aspect. I just wish the picture they had painted had been more nuanced.
You mention the priority placed on “the family unit.” I’m glad you mention that. This is the predominant value that comes to mind when I recall my grandparents, both maternal and paternal. I recognize that this ‘system’ often placed women at a disadvantage (in some respects) — expected to defer to husbands, tolerate abuse, turn a blind eye to infidelities, sacrifice economic independence and so on — yet there was also honor in it, this dedication to preserving the family unit.
I wish we could get some of that back, not to the exclusion of all else, but understanding that “self” alone and always foremost is unsustainable for any civilized group.
So many facets to this topic. Where to begin! With regard to relationships (most of them), my first thought is “do no harm”. If a person’s past behavior in no way sabotages our relationship, then I am comfortable with secrets, discreetness, and a lack of transparency, as I am withholding some personal information about myself and my past relationships/experiences, until I feel I can trust the person with whom I choose to share certain parts of my life. My brother used to refer to me as a “covert operation”, not because I was under the employ of the CIA, but because I was always reticent to share myself with others, not for any other reason than I have always been a very private person. I have forced myself to be more open with good friends who have expressed frustration at my lack of sharing, while they have trusted me with their very private selves.
From experience, I do believe it is prudent to move cautiously into new relationships, whether they be friendships or relationships with a potential significant other. Let the relationships breathe a bit, experience them in varying scenarios, let everyone, including yourself, relax, so they and you eventually feel comfortable being who they/you really are… If new knowledge “does no harm”, then decide where to go from there.
After my divorce, I casually dated a man who was very interested in getting married. Though I told him from the beginning that I was not interested in cohabiting or marrying anyone, he thought he could change my mind. Initially, he was relaxed, easy going and nonjudgmental, however, after several weeks he voiced strong opinions about everything I did, and became angry if I didn’t follow his advice. Well, you can guess what happened to that relationship! My ex-husband used to refer to the “good behavior” period in relationships. I quickly learned that he knew what he was talking about.
Personally, I never give friends advice unless asked, and then I take into account what they are able to hear. If I feel I must be honest, I attempt, not always successfully, to phrase my words in such a way that they will be received gently and from a friend who cares. But, as you say, we are all imperfect beings, and not always cognizant of our shortcomings.
Don’t we all have secrets, or those things in our past that would send others reeling if they knew? Haven’t we all done stupid or humiliating things out of inexperience or thoughtlessness, or, alternatively noble deeds that we would just as soon keep under wraps since that person we were, so long ago, was a different one than who we now are?
The longer I live, the more I learn that we all are enigmas. We all carry contradictions that make perfect sense to us, but may baffle others if they knew.