How to decide how much to reveal about yourself
People ask me all the time how I can be so honest about my life in my blog. They want to know how I can write about marriage, sex, abortions, or running out of money over and over again. It's an endless list really, of the stuff I write about that people can’t believe I'm writing about.
But each of you has a list of things in your life similar to that, it’s just a list you don't want to talk about. I'm not special—I don't have more stuff that is difficult to talk about. I just have more difficulty not talking about difficult stuff.
This is why.
I’m going to start by telling you that I was at the World Trade Center when it fell. I was in a post-traumatic stress support group afterward. People were divided into groups of ten based on their experience at the site—how bad things were for you that day. I was in a group comprised mostly of people who narrowly escaped the building before it fell and, as they were running out of the building, were splattered by body parts from people who were jumping out of the building.
We had individual therapy as well. Here's what my therapist said to me: “Your childhood was so terrible that your experience at the World Trade Center was nothing compared to what you experienced as a kid. Your post-traumatic stress therapy needs to focus on your childhood.”
That was the first time I really had a sense of how bad my childhood had been. I knew everyone in the world thought things at the World Trade Center were terrible. So this must mean that my childhood was really terrible.
I was 34.
When I was five, I knew something was not right. That's when I started therapy. I was never totally sure why my parents were sending me.
When I was seven I knew something was not right because the neighbor came over to our house when my parents were smashing picture frames over each others' head. The neighbor said to me and my little brother, “Come with me.”
Then my memories get blurry. The next thing I remember is my high school homeroom teacher. I skipped a day of school and then came to school with a black eye and a note from my dad that said I had been sick. She said that she was not accepting notes from my dad anymore. She said I could not come back to school the next time I miss a day unless I called the police.
I don't remember what I thought when she said that. Except that I thought, “Does she know what's going on at my house? How does she know? I never told her anything.”
I remember the next time my dad beat me up though. I called the police and they came. Like always. And my dad said nothing was wrong. Like always. And then the police started to leave. Like always.
But then I said, “Hold it. Wait. My teacher won't let me back in school unless I get a note from you that says I called you.”
I don't remember what else happened. I remember the police asking me if I want to leave. I remember my mom saying, “Yes. Please. Take her away. Please.”
I went to my grandma's to live. I spent all of high school living at my grandma's. The school social worker spent the rest of high school trying to convince me that my parents did something wrong. My grandma spent the rest of high school telling me that my parents were completely irresponsible. Except at family gatherings. When my parents were there, with my three brothers, and everyone pretended that everything was normal and that I did not live at my grandma's.
I don't remember very much. I went to college and spent my time trying to sort things out: abusive boyfriends, bulimia, anti-depressants, and cutting. Getting nearly straight-A's for a lot of the time. I sorted very little out.
I went to a mental ward the summer of my senior year. My parents visited me. They told me they were happy I was in the mental ward. My extended family visited me and they did not mention my parents. No one talked about why I might be there. My parents were anxious and loud in the family meetings: Begging the doctors to keep me from going back to their house. But even the doctors could not quite figure out why I was there: I worked on my senior thesis, I was a model patient, and I started dating a doctor right after that.
After I graduated, I moved back to Chicago, where he lived and so did my parents. I couldn't figure out how to support myself and there were so many opportunities for me to try nude modeling jobs. The doctor thought it was ridiculous. He thought I was too uptight to model. I said I probably was, but I wanted to try because it was such good money. I said they first test you out in a swimsuit.
He said, “Don't you need some sample photos?”
I said, “Yeah. I have some,” and I pulled them out of my bag.
The doctor looked. He smiled. He said, “Who took them?”
I said, “My dad.”
The doctor flipped. He went nuts. He couldn't believe it.
I was mostly surprised. I had no idea that my dad taking the photos was weird.
That I didn't know it was weird made the doctor even more upset. I remember trying to figure out why I thought it was okay. Or why he thought it was not okay.
I was 22.
I didn't tell anyone about the pictures. I started having nightmares about having sex with my parents. I started not being able to sleep. I didn't tell anyone though. Because I thought I was crazy.
Then my dad visited me a few years later, when I lived in Los Angeles. He wanted to go camping. I went. I was so nervous about being alone with him that I read almost all of One Hundred Years of Solitude before I went into the tent.
Then he took off his clothes, down to his underwear, and snuggled up next to me, with his arms around me and his penis up against my back.
Then I knew.
Or I thought I knew.
I slept outside the tent. I didn't talk the rest of the time. I don't think he even noticed.
I know the street in Los Angeles we were parked on when I finally asked, “Dad, did you do sexually inappropriate things with me when I was younger?”
He said, “Yes.”
I had no memory of what, exactly, he did. I still have no memory of it. And I was scared to ask him more. I asked my mom the same question. She gave me the same answer.
Both parents have said they were sorry. But that is not my point. My point is that my childhood was ruined by secrets.
In hindsight, so many people kept the secret: my family, the police, teachers before my freshman year. Decades later, when I asked my high school friends what they thought of me in high school, two of them told me that everyone thought I was nuts coming to school beaten up so often.
I'm not kidding when I say that I thought I was keeping that a secret.
So what I'm telling you here is that I'm scared of secrets. I'm more scared of keeping things a secret than I am of letting people know that I'm having trouble. People can't believe how I'm willing to write about my life here. But what I can't believe is how much better my life could have been if it had not been full of secrets.
So today, when I have a natural instinct to keep something a secret, I think to myself, “Why? Why don't I want people to know?” Because if I am living an honest life, and my eyes are open, and I'm trying my hardest to be good and kind, then anything I'm doing is fine to tell people.
That's why I can write about what I write about on this blog.
And when you think you cannot tell someone something about yourself, ask yourself, “Really, why not?”
You’re my hero.
I think I speak for everyone when I say that poster “Yawn” is a freaking tool. Small comments from a small troll.
How about you stop reading this blog and go sort out your own crap?
Cut the girl some slack. Sheesh.
Wow. That moved me to tears too. I had no idea you came from a background like that. I’m so sorry. That’s horrendous.
Thank you for being so open. I grapple with that issue on the internet all the time, and usually end up not sharing. I figured it would open me up to some sort of attack by all the people who hate me. You are so brave.
I’ve always wondered about that with your blogging, and now I get it. Much admiration!
Holy shit! Dr. Phil reads your blog (under the pseudonym Yawn)!! I love technology these days!! You can get diagnosed with a mental disorder via blog comments. God bless America.
Wow. Very brave post, Penelope. Kudos to you for having the courage expose all of this horrible baggage to the cleansing sunlight. I’m a pretty tough guy, but I don’t know if I could be as brave as you. I think if I went through this, I’d wind up just burying it down deep and living it in quiet shame. You’re an extremely brave woman for having the courage to discuss this publicly.
I hope you don’t take offense here, but I have to admit: although I ostensibly read your blog because it’s about startups, frankly the real reason has been because your blog is a bit of a soap opera. I guess I’ve kept tuning in because I keep thinking “Man, what nutty thing is that woman going to write about next?!?!?”
But today I’d like to apologize. I realize now that there’s nothing nutty about this at all. Your blog is a catharsis, a way to heal yourself from all the wounds that have been inflicted on you, by facing everything head on, in public, and having the courage to talk about them to the world.
As I said earlier, I apologize and I applaud you. You’re a much braver person than I.
Wishing you happiness and peace in your future,
DR
Jesus H Christ Penelope. I’m amazed you are at all functional given your childhood. A very good friend of mine was also abused as a child by both her mother and father and still struggles due to it. If telling people all about your life helps you to move through and past this, then do it, regardless of what your critics have to say.
This is @unfunn from twitter. Thanks for having the courage to honestly post about your life. I also suffer from PTSD, and had a similar situation remembering something horrible that happened to me as a child that I forgot about until age 23. The consequences of growing up in an abusive household are hard to overcome. I am also very honest for the very same reasons. Thanks for sharing.
I don’t always agree with your opinions but I always think you’re the bravest writer I’ve ever read for being able to put it all out there. It takes real insight to analyze such painful experiences and understand the multidimensial effects on your world. A lot of people never get there. I applaud you for sharing this story along with the many other personal facets of your life.
To Yawn: It takes more than a Psych 101 textbook to understand someone’s inner workings.
This is amazing. You are amazing. Survival of abuse is nothing to be sneezed at. I think my friend said it best — abuse is something you just get through to get out. There’s no time to examine, to complain, to mourn. You just do what you need to do. You put one foot in front of the other. You keep going and going until finally, when you realize on some level that you’re free, you collapse under the weight of what you’ve endured. But that’s a good thing — the realization that now it’s okay to collapse. Now, you’re safe and warm and fed and loved and no one will hurt you. It’s horrible to break down and face it, but you did it — you surivived. I hear you. I’ve been there. That’s why I have to be so honest, too.
Sometimes I wonder how honest I should be as I write about my life. I figure some details are too hard for others to read. My writings go into stand-up comedy, which actual has a formula where: more universally painful = big laughs
Thanks for reaching out: definitely doesn’t feel like you’re trying to sell me something. Except that transparency is good.
Dishonesty about (potential) weakness/instability comes down to status and reputation, no?
Wow – your writing just gets better and better. You are so brave. This is why I keep reading your blog.
Thank you for being so brave + open. For those of us who have experienced similar life situations, it is inspiring to read such a blog post. You are my hero.
there are no words, other than I have so much respect for you and all that you share. Thank you…
I grew up in a basically healthy home. Sure there was yelling and the occasional spanking when I was younger, but for the most part, normal.
Whenever I read some doctor blame someones actions on childhood issue, I often discount that doctor. I think the reason for this is because of ignorance on my part. After reading your post today, I think I am willing to listen a little closer when someone blames their childhood and not so quickly think of it as just an “excuse”.
Thank you.
Adults are responsbible for their own actions, regardless of their childhoods. Childhood abuse is not an excuse for bad behavior as an adult. Responsible adults realize that something isn’t right because of events they cuoldn’t control as children and seek help. Getting rid of the shame associated with abuse is one way of exorcising those demons.
Penelope, you rock.
I completely understand why you’d be afraid of secrets as keeping secrets clearly enabled much of the abuse you suffered to continue, even though keeping the abuse secret clearly wasn’t its cause.
The best thing about routinely revealing intimate details of one’s life for all to see is that it encourages one to behave in a way they can be proud of, not ashamed of.
One final point: we shouldn’t judge others for what happened to them, but rather for what they do (and not even for that–judging behavior is one thing, judging the person quite another. We’re all human beings deserving of compassion).
http://www.happinessinthisworld.com/2009/07/19/the-true-cause-of-cruelty/
My stomach is in a knot after reading this post.
Agreed, secrets can be dangerous both at work and at home. Honesty is important…but it’s easier said than done.
I could not help thinking how lucky your staff is to have you as their mentor. Your life experience is amazing. Keep going…
Best,
C.
I have been reading your blog for quite a while, used to live in Middleton,WI but now I am in Silicon Valley. Don’t know how you came on my radar, but was pleasantly surprised about your posts regarding the decision to move to Madison,WI.
This is probably the best blog entry that I have read from you and this shows all your other blog posts in a new light. For a while I kind of wrote off your blog since I felt most of your personal posts related to your dating life were more to drum up traffic than anything else. I am touched by this blog post.
Thank you for giving a voice to all the women out there — both successful and those still finding their ways — who had crappy childhoods.
It’s nice to have someone speaking candidly about their past who isn’t the stereotypical “crazy chick.” And I hate that phrase, “crazy chick.” Ugh.
Thanks for sharing. Transperency is healing and empowering. Ironic that I work in public relations.
God, Penelope. This is amazing. I had no idea. I am so sorry that this happened to you, but I am so proud of you for being such a figher, your whole life. Keep going. You are extremely inspiring!
you’re brilliant, insightful, hilarious, open, brave, striving … and you’re here. thank god. thank you.
Holy crap.
Well, no wonder your approach to risk-taking and everything else is so different.
I hereby retract (almost) all the unkind things I’ve said about your previous posts. You are coming from a totally different place than I am, and your decision-making clearly reflects that.
By the way, do you realize how remarkable you are? I hope someday your children do.
Dont you never, ever stop writing. It`s to precious.
Eduardo Di Lascio
São Paulo
Brazil
I meant “too precious”.
I am beyond words of what I want to say right now, I have to echo everyone’s comments and thank you for sharing- this piece has really moved me and really changes how I think about you and this blog.
I have been reading and commenting on this blog for over a year and a half now and my only regret is I didn’t find you and this blog sooner. You are inspiring, thought provoking, and many other good things. I hate that your childhood was ruined by secrets. I think you have overcome much more than your fair share of life’s hurdles and I have a better understanding of your understatement of ‘life is hard’.
I’d like to comment on this statement above – “So today, when I have a natural instinct to keep something a secret, I think to myself, "Why? Why don't I want people to know?" It is a natural instinct for me to keep some secrets. I do question myself on the why I may want to keep something a secret. However I also question why a person may want to know something. I think it really comes down to the specifics of the ‘secret’ and its impact on my life or other peoples lives. I think it’s something we all wrestle with every day. In real life I am a straightforward and honest person and ask the questions I think many other people are thinking but not asking. The answer or non-answer as the case may be is very telling.
Enough for now and look forward as always to your blog posts that I feel compelled to comment.
Thank you. Your words are touching and have helped me sort out my own insecurities about being honest with others.
I was physically shaking by the end of this blog post. Wow!
Oh my dear god. I have read your stuff off and on since 2000. I remember the first time I felt so excited to find you. Such a sense of a person who also suffers from keen perception. And such an amazing writer. The voice is heard inside. None of this matters. Only that I believe your voice is the sound of a person saving themselves against terrible odds. I wish I could take care of you. Only I imagine you knife those who care for you to death.
When unfortunate things happen I often ask ‘What did you want me to learn this time God?’ and I get my answer. I say that to preface to iterate that things happen for a reason and all those experiences shape the way we operate in life from that point forward. I commend your blog love your outward pouring of thoughts, that has got to be therapeutic, and can’t wait for the next one P. -CDay
Thank you for writing this important piece. I have learned so much about business, money, and life from your blog, and I keep coming back because of your absolute honesty. I love that their is no BS in this blog, and I love that you are able to express yourself with such freedom. I am so sorry to hear about what happened to you, and am so proud of you for taking a stand against secrets, especially in the family. I admire you so much for your honesty and for breaking down the walls that hold people in. You are such an inspiration to myself and so many of the other women in my office. Take care and be blessed.
Penelope,
I have a two year old daughter and she means the world to me; she is the most precious person in my life and I love her more than anything. Right now I just want to envelope you in my full embrace, like I do to my daughter, and tell you that I love you and that you’re safe and that everything will be ok. I am sorry this happened to you. I wish I could have been there to protect you. Because through your blogs you’ve helped me and many others I’m sure. I think you’re a beautiful person inside and out and incredibly strong. Thanks again for sharing.
Grace
I echo the comments about how moving this post was. Connecting back to the usual subject of the blog, a comment and a question:
No wonder investors believe in you: if you can overcome what you have in your life, dealing with the challenges of a start up seems much smaller.
Also, do you know if there is a pattern with many successful serial entrepreneurs having overcome challenging childhood circumstances? Anecdotally I’ve heard many stories of people arriving with nothing as a refugee, living on the street to escape abuse, or overcoming situations akin to your past and having founded very successful businesses. But I don’t know if they are the exception or “part of the rule.”
Penelope,
I just want to give you a hug. No one should have to go through that stuff. I’m sorry you had to.
I’m glad you are able to talk about it and hopefully work through it. You are so strong.
Erin
Powerful…
I remember my Mom waking up with 2 black eyes.
I asked my 6th grade buddies,”Doesn’t everyone’s parents fight every now and then?”
Look forward to more passionate writings.
RAS
It’s good that you are honest and brave in facing your past but I don’t understand why you would write this stuff on your blog.
As far as I understand, you use this blog to bounce ideas about careers as well as to market yourself as a speaker and an expert on careers. So why disclose this info about your childhood? Do you think it makes you more attractive to customers? Keeping secrets can hurt you, yes, but that doesn’t mean that you should jump to the extreme of putting every uncomfortable truth about yourself on the internet.
Imagine the teenage girl who is living this nightmare right now and doesn’t realize it isn’t normal. Imagine how reading Penelope could open her eyes.
Penelope’s transparency might very well save many lives.
Great post Penelope & thanks for being brave enough to share such intimate info. What I wish to hide is not as heavy as your confession but I still can’t seem to let it out. I guess my image is what holds me back. Not necessarily what others will think but more so what I think about myself in relation to it. It hurts to feel this way but I think it would hurt more if I was given validation of my feelings by someone who was not there & could not possibly know what I’m going through. But I understand your point & the one person who knows everything & who needs to know is my hubby. Dislcosing your info to total strangers, although admirable, is not required to live in an honest life.
I love you.
I love you for your honesty. I love you for your bravery. I love you for your drive. I love you for the inspiration you offer. I love you for not keeping secrets. I love you for sharing your past. I love you for giving so much of your self to others.
But really, I love you because you are you.
This is not intended to be mushy or woo woo – I’m not mushy or woo woo. I am just really moved by this post and feel nothing but love.
Thank you
I very much agree with S on this one.
Yes. Exactly. Thank you. It is almost exactly my reasoning, as well.
I can’t wait for your parents to get backlash from this post. They totally deserve it. As a mother I know the most important job I will ever have is to take care of my children. I hope your mother hears my contempt for her and my judgment that her life is a failure because she failed on the most basic level. I can only hope she, and your father, lives in a private hell where their mind is not shielded from the memories and the knowledge that the consequences of their actions will follow them for all eternity.
I’ve started reading your writing when you were at Yahoo Finance. I’ve disagreed with about 60% of your career advice over the years. And obviously this post isn’t about career advice. Everyone is fighting a battle, as the saying goes. It’s a beautiful thing when humanity is revealed.
Thank you for writing this. It was really moving. I can relate to a lot of what you said. Secrets have a tendency to hurt more than they help. Your honesty is truly refreshing. So many times, victims of abuse are afraid to speak up for themselves, because what they experienced was so shameful.
My parents were never physically or sexually abusive that I can remember, but they are both really messed up. My mom has emotional issues and my dad has a serious temper. I did drugs and partied a couple of years as a teenager to deal, then sobered up, read a slew of self-help books, got a BA in psyc and now am finally in long-term therapy. I’m not exactly ok yet (which would be why I’m in therapy), but I’ve worked really hard to overcome my parents’ problems and be responsible for my own separate issues.
I had that conversation with my parents on different occassions and they said nothing happened. Whether anything happened or not, I don’t remember anything, other than a few mildly inappropriate moments or suggestive comments. Other than the fact that my dad’s presense makes me feel uneasy sometimes, things are relatively normal as an adult.
For awhile I was convinced he was a pedophile, but now, I really don’t know what to think. I finally came to the realization that all I can do is accept where I am in my life and try to work through my my own issues. I can’t do anything about who my dad is. I can’t spend my life second guessing myself about what may or may not have happened. I honestly don’t know if anything ever happened or if he just has a personality problem/bounderies issues. I have no evidence that anything ever happened to me (or anyone else) and I have no memories of it either.
However, if I do have kids, I am suspicious enough about his behavior, that I would not ever leave them alone with my dad. Maybe he’s not a pedophile, but I would never forgive myself if he actually is one and then something happened. Since he has made me uncomfortable as an adult and there were a few incidents when I was young, I feel warranted in taking precautions to make sure that there is never a chance for anything to happen. I’ve always wanted to be a mom and I’ve worked with kids, so I have a really strong, protective mama bear instinct. Maybe it’s just me and it’s all in my head, but I would much rather be safe than sorry.
You are really brave. Much love to you for being such a great mom and for breaking the cycle. Having fucked up parents is no easy life. Especially when everyone around you is complicit in their silence. I do believe it is complicity when there were people who knew you were suffering and remained silent. Breaking the silence can only be empowering. I heard another woman’s story this past weekend and I didn’t know what to say to her. But maybe I didn’t need to say anything, because as she told her story, she was exposing the lies and secrets. That is what is really empowering- when you don’t have to hide what someone else did anymore. Like you said, as long as you are living a good life and doing right by others, then you have nothing to hide. Sharing your story can only help others who are struggling to deal with the same issues. You didn’t do anything wrong, your dad did. He’s the one who should be ashamed of himself.
I have only been reading your blog for a month or so now. It’s one of best written and most intelligent I’ve come across. This post was so unbelievable that i kept waiting for a punch line where you said, “Surprise! It was all a joke.”
My childhood was also not a bed of roses, though i didn’t experience abuse; it was more like gross negligence. Still, i can relate to many of the things you say. The perfectly happy nuclear family might as well be a UFO, I understand it so little.
I only i could reach across cyberspace and give you a big hug.
98 comments and only one single negative, which was roundly derided by the following commenters. That says something about the raw power of this post, Penelope. BTW, I’m seconding Tzipporah, she beat me to it. You had me at ‘this is why’
Penelope,
I always read you; sometimes agreeing with you, sometimes not, and often times thinking you’re way off the wall. Now I get it.
What I really admire about you is that you’re not using childhood as an excuse for life. In some ways, you remind me of my dad.
My dad had a crummy childhood too. He doesn’t talk about it much but when the bits and pieces come out it, it makes me sad. Yet, he never feels sorry for himself. He’s gone on to lead a phenomenal life and he’s a wonderful parent to his seven children.
One of the best things my father did was teach me about a loving God. No matter who I am or what I do, I know I’m God’s child and in his grace.
Penelope, so are you.
That was one of the most powerful things I have ever read. This will stick with me for a very long time.
I completely agree that family secrets cause an unbelievable amount of destruction. I once had to blow the lid off a family secret of my in-laws in order to save my marriage. While they pretend like nothing ever happened and never discuss it, I suspect they’ll never forgive me. And I don’t give a shit.
Thank you for sharing this. I had a friend in high school who had a similar experience and she felt so alone. I hate what you went through but am glad that others can read and know that they are not alone.
Wow. You have quite the story. Bravo to you for overcoming and making something of your life, including a home for your children, despite every excuse you could have used.
For the first time reading your blog I have total respect for you.