The things we don't talk about enough

Young children are amazing, aren’t they? I love the way they speak the truth in all its bare simplicity. They don’t sugar coat things, nor do they omit details for fear of upsetting people or hurting others’ feelings. There comes a time of course when they sense that something lurks beneath the surface, the way imaginary monsters lurk under the bed or in the cupboards, something that tells them it’s bad to talk about certain subjects. They learn to censor themselves, to become ‘nice’ and ‘good’ and polite and agreeable. But for a time, they are soothsayers and truth tellers and nothing and no one can stop them.

As adults, we live in a far different world than little children. We play games with each other all day long, learning over the course of thousands of interactions that certain subjects are less palatable than others. Many of us – particularly those of us who become highly agreeable (and yep, that includes me) – can sense an uncomfortable topic a mile off, kind of like the way my dog can smell an old bit of fish on the beach. The difference is, where Molly will make a beeline straight for that manky, smelly fish corpse (so gross), those of us who are sensitive and agreeable will feel the unconscious pressure to steer clear of talking about the tough stuff at all costs.

For some of us, however, there is yet another force at play. Yes, we might be highly agreeable, but we also know that secrets and taboo subjects are at their most powerful when they are unnamed. It’s a bit like the difference between the witches and wizards who say You Know Who or He Who Must Not Be Named versus those who simply state, ‘Voldemort’ in Harry Potter. As Dumbledore says to Harry, “Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” Calling things by their name is vital. I think on some level we all know this. We know that suppression and avoidance, whilst helpful and even essential strategies in certain contexts, are not healthy or life-giving long-term.

That’s why, today, I want to name a few (okay, quite a few) things that I think we have difficulty talking about. Many (but not all) of them are things I find it hard to talk about; some of them are things I’m grappling with now; others are things I’ve wrestled with talking about in the past; some of them are things that I’m personally fairly comfortable with, but which I observe other people struggling with. There’s no shame or finger pointing intended here, just a desire to identify a few of the things that might be hanging out with Pandora in her box.

So here, in no particular order (although loosely organised by category), is a preliminary list of things that I don’t think we talk about often enough or in enough depth. Let’s call them our elephants in the room. Some of them are pretty heavy, and I know I’ve missed a ton – but these are some of the things that have been on my mind recently.

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The things we don’t talk about enough

Firstly, and this is from direct experience: how bloody DIFFICULT pole dancing is! No one tells you before your first class that it will literally bruise you and leave you shaky and feeling sick. No one tells you about the euphoria.

The second time you have sex. (This could be because it’s very hard to remember. Do you remember your second time? I don’t think I do...)

How to know when you don’t want to be with your partner anymore.

How hard even the most amicable of divorces is.

What to do on your wedding anniversary when you are mid-divorce.

The absolute terror of really being in love.

The crazy, irrational behaviour that comes from being anxiously attached.

What it’s like to be in your thirties and to not know whether you want children or not.

What it’s like to have an ever-present broodiness accompany you on a daily basis for months and years.

What it’s like to not want children – to feel ever so slightly turned off by the whole thing.

What it’s like to flip flop between these two and to feel totally stuck about what to do.

What it’s like to be in your late thirties and to realise that you probably do, actually, really want to have a baby, and to not know whether you are going to – whether you even can.

How on earth to have these conversations in a way that doesn’t damage your relationship (I suppose that goes for the entirety of this list, actually.)

Miscarriage. Stillbirth. Neonatal loss. Ectopic pregnancies. Termination of pregnancy. (Thank you and a HUGE shout out to Nadine Baynes, whose incredible organisation, Lighthouse Therapy Services, provides post-infant loss retreats and counselling.)

What it’s like to have them and not enjoy the act of mothering, despite your fierce love for them (thank you to one of my friends for her incredible courage and honesty in speaking about this regularly – this is one of my big fears)

How pregnancy affects women’s bodies.

Labour.

Breastfeeding.

Surrogacy.

Adoption – and how utterly hard and heart-breaking the process is, and the lifelong impact it has one everyone involved.

The terror of being a new parent.

How having a baby affects relationships and particularly the mother’s partner (if she has one).

Single parenthood.

Co-parenting and what it’s like to actually get on with the parent of your child even if you’re no longer together.

Post-natal depression – for women and for men.

How to navigate co-parenting when one or both of you has a new partner.

How and when to meet your partner’s child/children and what the hell you do with all your fears, thoughts and feelings.

What to do if you don’t like your partner’s child.

What to do if you find yourself falling utterly in love with them.

What to do if you feel ambivalent towards them.

Step-parenting – the many, many complexities of becoming daddy’s girlfriend or mummy’s boyfriend, and navigating all of the multi-faceted, delicate dynamics (and even the language – step-parent feels so much like the wrong term for so many situations).

Money – how much we make, how much we spend, what we do with it.

What it’s like to suddenly make a shitload more money than you did the year before and how to talk about it even to your nearest and dearest.

What it’s like to make a decision about money that causes a huge rift in your family system.

What it’s like to be the main breadwinner.

What it’s like to rely on the main breadwinner.

Grief and loss of all kinds, but  particularly death, and how we support and talk to each other about it.

What it’s like to be a year, two years, three years into losing someone and to feel the aching void that their voice, their presence, their hands, their laugh, their moods, their love and their life used to be.

Why we mysteriously expect people to suddenly be okay after the first year of losing someone they love, and how the second year is often harder than the first.

The menopause (this scene from Fleabag is one of the best things I’ve heard about it, ever. And, we need more).

Women’s bodies.

Men’s insecurities.

The complexities of recovery from addiction – that some people who get sober can drink again in the future and not just be okay, but thrive.

C-PTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Abuse in all its forms.

Family secrets.

Incest.

What it’s like to live with questions about whether something awful happened to you as a child, something you can’t remember.

Male victims of sexual abuse.

Male vulnerability.

Female strength.

That just because something’s a bestseller or a blockbuster, doesn’t mean it’s all that good.

That mood-altering substances can sometimes provide some of the most powerful experiences you’ll have and that those experiences can be just as valid and healing as any that you’ll have sober – and sometimes even more so.

Micro-aggressions experienced by minority groups every single day.

Our ‘internal racists’ and how we are sometimes the aggressors and perpetrators of the violence that is doing such damage to so many people.

Systemic injustices and the part we play in them.

The way we dehumanise homeless people, people of colour, non-binary folk, and, and, and.

Adrenal fatigue.

Competition, jealousy and rivalry, particularly in female friendships.

The way the rhetoric in 12 step fellowships teaches some people (not everyone) not to trust themselves – often years after they really are trustworthy.

Pretty much everything to do with real sex – the anxieties, the pleasure, masturbation, our fantasies, the lies we tell ourselves and each other, the way we use it, the quirks and kinks and things that turn us on, how to play, how to let go, how to enjoy it, how to focus more on enjoyment and less on looking like you’re enjoying it, how to touch a woman so she actually enjoys it, how to touch a man so he enjoys it.

The extremely perverse ‘barely legal’ sections on porn websites (I find this so disturbing).

How to negotiate as a woman.

What it’s like to regret whole swathes of your life – even though you know they brought you to this point and that if things had been different then, you wouldn’t be here now. What it’s like to wish that you had been given better guidance, better support, and that you’d had the courage to go after what you most deeply dream of when you were twenty-five.

How scary it actually is to have dreams and ambitions.

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I wonder what might shift or open up if we start talking about these things. I wonder if there is a conversation that you can feel wants to happen in your life – maybe simply ‘just’ with yourself (although those can sometimes be the hardest ones). I wonder if I will find the courage to talk about the things I have yet to say, the things that I know want to be said. And I wonder what you make of this list.

Thank you so much for reading this far. It means more than you may know. As always, I’d love to know your thoughts.

(Image by James Hammond via Unsplash. Thank you, James.)