My Biggest Secret Will Shock Your Pants Off!!

When AC first announced the "Biggest Secret" contest, I didn't have to scratch my head and ponder what deep, dark secret I could possibly spill. I knew right away, because I've been keeping the "mother of all secrets" since I was a young girl.

Actually, I've been trying to run away from my deep, dark secret all my life. But like a relentless stalker bent on revenge, my deep, dark secret can never be outrun. There is no escape because it knows where I live, in fact lives with me. Like a giant box of "something" in the attic, my big secret is always there, awaiting discovery.

I was 16 when "it" happened. The fabric of my life was irrevocably altered in the blink of an eye. I lived in a small town where everyone knew me and knew of it. I spent my last two years of high school trying to pretend nothing was amiss, trying to believe that the giggles, whispers and veiled jokes weren't about me, but knowing they probably were. Yet not one single word was ever addressed to me, to my face, about "it."

Perhaps it wasn't so much that they were cruel or indifferent, but did not know how to react, and so, they did nothing by default. Still, I existed in the reflection of a stigma that taunted me. It made we want to die, if not physically, then surely emotionally. I was a young girl so utterly ruined, a girl without any sense of normality in her life.

I left my little town the day after graduation, trying to run away from the memory. But of course my deep, dark secret follows me wherever I go.

In a new city and state far away, I married a man I barely knew, largely so I could change my last name. So many people knew my maiden name, even in my new state...and they knew the horror associated with it. With a new last name, my big secret seemed safely tucked away.

I didn't tell a single soul about my deep, dark secret for decades. I didn't speak of it or think of it, ever. The secret was so far away from my consciousness, I believe I was trying to deny its existence. And that, of course, only gave it more weight. The thing about secrets of this nature--things that are a part of your past whether you want them to be or not--is that trying to deny their existence only makes them scream louder.

I've been hearing its cacophony all of my life, and the noise is a thousand times worse than any you could imagine. The secret strains against the attic door, clamoring to be reckoned with. It won't go away, won't let me be someone else, someone who doesn't have this kind of deep, dark secret.

I know there are a few others out there like me, with a secret of this magnitude. My brothers and sisters for one. But you see, no one ever talks about a secret such as ours.

I told the secret once, to the readers of my blog. No one there knew my real name or my location. I felt safe hidden behind the computer and a made-up moniker. But I wasn't safe at all, it was an illusion. Some sicko posted something that nearly did me in. Had I been tethered to life with a flimsier cord, I would surely have exited this world.

But I didn't die, and I learned something very important from that experience. Don't go spilling your deep, dark secret to strangers for the sake of shock value or worse, for entertainment. You won't ever find me telling my big secret on Montel, Jerry Springer or Oprah. Some secrets are just meant to stay secret. Mine is one of them.