(image by vietnampeoplelandscape on pixabay)

When I was a kid, I learned how to keep secrets for my older sister. I always felt I was under threat of a beating, even though this never happened. She was just frightening because she was bigger, older, wiser, and could have a mean, cutting tongue that would lash out at me if I did something wrong. So, keeping her secrets seemed like a biological imperative, whether it was hidden cigarettes, drugs, booze, boys, or sneaking out of the house.

My ancestors kept much more serious secrets. My dad was a German Jew, so many of his relatives lived through harrowing circumstances in WWII. His cousin Ernst went into hiding in the attic of a sympathetic innkeeper. His daughter told me the story of how the Nazis came and did inspections, but never found him. He ended up marrying the innkeeper’s daughter, so this dangerous secret became a family blessing in the long run.

My dad’s other two cousins fled Holland through the Pyrenees mountains into France. They told me how it was freezing cold and one of them lost their shoe and got frostbite. They had to rely on their wits and the charity of strangers. When they got to France, they joined the Resistance movement. They had to keep secrets every day just to stay alive.

My dad and his sister were sponsored by a family friend in England made it out of Germany on one of the last Kindertransport trains. They never saw their parents again. For the rest of their lives, they felt ashamed to speak German in public. As teenagers, keeping their background a secret must have been terribly difficult, as they went on to school and university.

Other people’s lives are defined by keeping secrets. If there has been any abuse or trauma, they may consciously or unconsciously suppress memories which are too painful to share. These secrets become a heavy burden to carry, as they can often hinder true intimacy.

Did you have to keep any secrets growing up? Please subscribe / share a comment below.