I saw a joke this week about how a model titanic was planning to set sea for a voyage in 2022 but how it would be safe this time because we’ve melted all the icebergs. First, it sent me into (yet another) downward spiral about climate change, but then it got me thinking about icebergs. So often there are huge chunks of ourselves that others don’t see, partly because we compartmentalize ourselves and partly simply because not everyone needs to know everything about us all the time (grocery store clerk: “hi, how are you?” me: “so glad you asked, I’ve been really struggling to stay connected with those that I love during the pandemic and it feels increasingly easy to just be in my own little world with my family and leave everything else behind, only I’m a people person so it’s actually been really hard on me and I wonder if it’s just me or if this feels more universal right now, and…”).

I don’t necessarily mean “he had a whole surprise family in another city” secret lives, or even the dark secrets of someone betraying a friend or that of a high functioning drug addict, but more all the silent fears and struggles – and even sometimes joy, although in the age of social media it does feel like there is much more pressure or awareness to share and highlight joy – that sometimes very few people know about.

I wonder, especially when I am in a particularly tricky spiral myself, what things are going on for others who I think I know. How much people I love hold back from me specifically, or people generally. When I’m stuck in my head, when I’ve been lacking in connection (and unable to reach out, because isn’t that a fun quandary of mental health struggles – I want to connect but I can’t initiate nor can I respond to someone else initiating. Neat.) it’s easy for me to feel like clearly everyone hides their true selves from me because I’m a stupid dumb dumb and I don’t deserve friends. The logical part of my brain knows that’s BS, but it’s not the logical part of my brain driving in those moments. The logical part of me knows that there are cards that I keep close to my chest because not everyone needs to know everything about me all the time, and also because there are conversations that I just do not have the energy for. Again, some of this is simply a filter that I just didn’t possess when I was younger. I choose not to bring up particular topics with those who I know don’t see things that same as I do on specific issues (instead of running headfirst at full speed into conflict).

I also know – or, let me correct – fear (which masquerades as knowing in moments of deep doubt), that those parts of me which are my biggest struggles are the parts of me that are not lovable, the parts that would cause some around me to turn their backs on me or drive a wedge simply because they can’t understand.

How many of our icebergs are those things in ourselves we fear the most? How many are the things that we are most ashamed of, and most misunderstand about ourselves?

When I look at the things in my life that I keep closest, it’s almost all the parts that I most fear sharing. (I’m literally someone who will post photos of my breakfasts so it’s rarely the mundane or inconsequential that I hide, lol.) It’s the parts in me that I don’t know how to explain, sometimes even that I lie to myself about (does it count as “iceberg” if you hide it from yourself? Asking for a friend). It’s the parts that I’ve told myself “if they knew that, they wouldn’t love me” – when the truth is that it’s really mostly the parts that I can’t love or forgive about myself (“I know that about myself and I hate myself for it so why would they be any different?”)

To give you the same context that I always update a new therapist with, I have the one-two punch of both growing up in the Christian church (if you’re ever looking for a community to hold you to an unrealistically high standard and then not forgive you when you fall, may I suggest evangelical Christianity? #kidding #kind of #notallchristians #butmost) and then also carrying on a years-long affair in my early 20s to set these high-watermarks for myself. It’s like a constant reminder and reinforcement that who I am isn’t safe to share, and that I have done and will always do things that are unforgiveable. And the kickers about all of that is that when they day comes that I can love, accept, and forgive myself for those things, it will likely be the day where I don’t feel the same need to hide so much of who I am or what I go through. The irony, isn’t it, that these things that I hide are the ones that will probably connect me most deeply to others – and yet. AND YET! Instead, I sit in shame and fear and alone-ness, like I suspect so many of us do, because in so many ways it is easier and feels safe. And in a time when SO MUCH of the world is questionable as to it’s safe-ness, I feel safe hiding how hard I am paddling under the water. Like a duck – calm on the surface but paddling like the dickens underneath (the internet has no consensus about how exactly that quote goes or who exactly said it first so if you know, please message me) – actually, no. I don’t know that anyone – especially those close to me – would describe me as calm on the surface. This iceberg metaphor only gets me so far…

When I look with fresh eyes, the parts of me that I hide under the surface are already coming out, bit by bit (fun fact did you know a small iceberg is called a “bergy bit”? totally my new favourite phrase). So much of this is the process of aging – and I’m leaning pretty hard into that today.

Sign me up for a life where less is hidden under the surface, less is unforgiven in myself.