Editors Note: This is a regular weekly segment we call our “Secret Confession”. We encourage you to use this confidential email service called Guerrilla Mail, that allows the sender to send an email via a temporary and completely anonymous email address and share your own true confession. We encourage you to change incidental details but not the main thrust of the confession. Each submission, no matter the length, (one sentence or several paragraphs) will be edited by me so there won’t be any hints as to identity via writing style. Once a week we will publish a confession via the blog. Please send any and all submissions to firstname.lastname@example.org
This is more of a “confession dump” than anything in particular. I have been looking for a place to confess and this seems perfect. I am interested in learning who else out there can relate. I have carried the burdens of these secrets for 40 plus years and I’m ready to come clean.
In middle school I was part of a mean girl tribe. We bullied this one girl from our group and eventually completely managed to break her down by running away from her in the hallways, for example. She was crushed. Now that I have teenaged girls of my own who have both been hurt by bullying I understand how life-long damaging it is, and I feel truly awful about this.
I have a crush on my fitness instructor. Like, a serious crush, like a ‘think about him a lot, play-flirt and wish it would go further but I’m married so I know it would be a disaster, but wow, wouldn’t that be exciting?’ crush. I feel terrible about this but guess what, I’m not quitting his gym, or him so, yeah, I feel terrible.
I consider myself a good friend but it makes me crazy when friends hog the conversation, and go into WAY too much detail and then don’t ask about you or your family or what’s going on in your life. I am sympathetic and a good listener so why can’t they pick up on that and extend the same courtesy? It makes me not want to listen to them even when they are hurting and need a sounding board. I guess that makes me an asshole? I don’t care. It really bugs me.
I shoplifted in high school. A lot. With friends, sometimes alone. We mainly stole clothes. Remember, gunne sax dresses? Yep, a bunch of those damn things were hanging in my closet, all stolen. It wasn’t about the money for me, at least, it was a rush to steal and get away with it. I never made amends. I don’t shoplift now but sometimes I find myself fingering an item and wondering if I would still feel the rush. But then I remind myself I have too much to lose.
Who can relate? Tell me I’m not alone in this.