Secrets

I’ve been helping an older inmate get his conviction overturned. Late last week the Federal Court in Richmond agreed with me and returned his case to the local Virginia Circuit Court so he can appeal his conviction (his conviction stands, but his appeal rights were reinstated).



Why? Because his appellate attorney was recently disbarred for neglecting cases, letting pleadings go unanswered and failing to note appeals. His appellate attorney suffered from depression and alcoholism that impaired his ability to properly handle his cases.


I don’t know if this inmate is guilty. I do know his attorney’s inability to face up to the secrets he carried cost him his chance to have his appeal heard.


Secrets. We all have them; we all know them. I’ve thought a great deal about the secrets I carried, many for a long time. I’ve concluded, after much reflection, that secrets end up poisoning our soul. In the light of day, nothing is so bad that it needs to be hidden. No matter how painful, light eventually heals. Secrets on the other hand fester and poison, not only ourselves, but our relationships.


I learned years ago that my grandmother thought I made a mistake marrying my wife. She thought my wife was too demanding, to self-directed and I was the one putting my education, my career on the back burner.


Ironically, I held that inside and conceded each and every decision to my wife. In hindsight, perhaps Lucy knew best. Perhaps I should have told my wife as partners we both needed to be willing to compromise. I didn’t do it out of fear my wife would be angry and think she was a great compromiser. Our relationship would have been better served by me “manning up”.


There were dozens of times I came home and found my wife deeply hurt by remarks made by my mother. I knew how my mom was/is. She says whatever pops in her head and is cutting, blunt, and down right mean at times. I’ve lived with that my entire life and dealt with it by ignoring her venomous tongue. I held in my personal frustration with my mom from my wife; I held my wife’s hurt from my mom. Ultimately, I did nothing and the same behavior continued.


I’ve realized over the past two years how many secrets I held. I know which friends of ours were having problems, which husbands were cheating. My silence ended up serving as acquiescence.


I knew at work everyone’s cheating, everyone’s lies. I knew the financial irregularities, the “shell game” the senior management team played for years as the company I worked for came dangerously close to failure. Early on, I seriously considered “laying it all out there”. I decided to do so now would be because I was angry at those folks for wanting me to bleed and suffer with a long prison sentence.


I held secrets. I never told my wife how I needed her to be more affectionate and loving. I never addressed the baggage I carried from my family; I never told my wife what I needed, what I longed for. Instead, I tried to be the person that would get me what I wanted.


I’ve concluded that love – real love – can handle any need, any failure. Ultimately, holding a secret in poisons you. You end up acting in a way that keeps the secret hidden, but tries to get you what you desire. You can’t have it both ways.


Secrets end up coming out. Every day some Congressional hearing discloses another secret kept from the public. Everyday the paper and the news lead with some famous person caught up in a secret, whether it’s Republican strategist Ken Mehlman being outed as gay, or Roger Clemens using steroids.


As I’ve written before, nothing hurt me as much as my wife telling me “I haven’t loved you for years”. It will take me years to heal from that, just as it will take her years to recover from learning of my secret stealing.


I wish I could go back and replay it all. There’d be no secrets.