I should be working on my resume. I should be being productive. Instead, I found myself reading every single secret on the PostSecret Instagram page. Person after person pouring out their soul to God-only-knows who, putting their most hidden thoughts on display for the world to see. We all have secrets, don’t we? Whether it’s something you’ve done that you’re ashamed of, an uncharacteristic thought, or even the severity of something that’s not a secret at all. It’s hard to be open to everyone all the time, impossible even.

I’ve always prided myself on being an “open-book”. I still think that’s mostly true, but I find myself constantly thinking about what I can’t say and to whom. I’m in the middle of a Judaism 101 class. This is the first [official] step on my road to becoming a Jew. My mom and sister don’t know. They’ve always been my heroes, my supporters, my Christian inspirations. Which is why I haven’t told them about this huge step that I’m taking. If I’m being honest, it’s because I’m scared. They see me stepping away from Christianity as eternal damnation of my soul. And as extreme as that may sound, I understand it. I fully believed in Jesus and actively pursued a life (and almost a career) that I thought would bring more people to him. So I get it. Their thoughts and emotions about my soul come from a place of genuine care and concern, and that makes it so much harder. I’ve started to feel like my spiritual journey is a burden on my family. I have become a source of pain and confusion, and that’s obviously the exact opposite of what I want. In an effort to spare my mom and sister this torment, I keep my religion to myself. I go to their houses for Christmas, I say that I was “out with friends” instead of admitting to going to Shabbat dinners, I hide my Star of David necklace when they visit… it’s exhausting. I feel like they don’t even know who I am anymore. I can’t be honest about this thing which has become such an integral part of my life. Secrets, secrets, secrets.

I’ve also kept secrets from my closest friends. Well, not completely. They see me. They know me. I could never truly hide anything from them, but I sometimes feel like I can’t truly tell them what’s on my mind either. If I were to give you a gleaming review of myself, I’d tell you that I’m 25 years old. I’m a graduate student. I’m a good looking, healthy woman. I tend to roll with the punches and come out on top of whatever mountain I try to summit. All-in-all, I have been blessed with a fantastic life, and I know that. That’s why it seems to me that I’m not allowed to feel anything but grateful. Why would I have any reason to complain when there are people in my own life experiencing life-threatening diseases, abuse, suicidal thoughts, and poverty? I don’t. But that’s why I’m here, with you. Everyone needs a purge from time to time. Deep down, we all want to reveal our secrets. I needed a place to be able to say that I’m tired. I’m sad. I’m confused. And I don’t know what the hell I’m doing most of the time. When I drink, I get drunk, always. When I’m bored, I get high, always. I feel like my life revolves around being a pillar for everyone around me. I feel like if I fall, I take everyone I love down with me. But I wake up in the morning, I put a smile on my face, and I talk my loved ones out of any situation that may arise, all while desperately wishing I had the right to be the one in distress. Secrets, secrets, secrets.