Introspection

All my life, I have been a secret-keeper. Big, small, hideous or innocuous, I always feel better when there's something hidden from everyone in my life--parents, friends, boyfriend, etc. This attribute of mine and the actions I take to maintain it (lying, for example) drives my mother absolutely up the wall.

Now, this isn't absolute by any means. I think there is maybe one thing that I've done in my life that I haven't told anyone about, at one point or another, (and no, I'm not thinking of any specific thing) but I do tend to keep my areas of knowledge segregated pretty heavily.

Friends get a lot of the nitty-gritty day to day stuff, and most of the sex talk. They get everyday drama (did she really have Botox?) and plans.

Superclose friends (this usually includes people I'm dating) get the past in small, carefully controlled doses, the present, and the worries about the future. And the sex talk.

Parents get the big events, the worries about the future, and a lot of the worries about the present--I'll dump on them about Friend X's behavior, and my dad will say "but you know, it's--" and then we'll say in unison "not your/my problem." It's nice to have outgrown the dramatic stage where everyone's problems but my own are mine.

This leaves giant stretches of the past and tiny petty things as my exclusive domain. I keep these things very carefully to myself. Why? My mom's been asking that question for years, and only now have I been able to come up with something approximating an answer.

It's because I fear that someone will attack my motivations, actions, or life, and I will have nothing to counter with. If I have a secret, then that's my weapon. I can say "well, you don't understand this about me" and suddenly everything is okay.

Now, I'm not sure how my affinity for well-written chick lit is ever going to help me in an argument, but that's the best impetus I can come up with for my pleasure in keeping secrets.