PostSecret at the U of M

So I attended, on the 23rd of October, the PostSecret event at the U of M. [That link takes you to the Facebook page, where you can see the 375 uploaded secrets from [mostly] my collection of postsecrets over the years.

The event started with Frank sharing some of his favourite secrets, as well as the stories behind them. Interwoven in this was the story of his parents, both not really 'getting' the postsecret thing [and it's true- I've found it's really hard to describe postsecret to someone, even after buying them the book and placing a personal secret on the last page]. Frank showed some secrets that were banned from the PostSecret books, for various reasons. And then he shared that Wal-Mart has refused to carry any of the books, which really surprised me. And made me gleeful a bit at the same time. Makes me like the books a little bit more. And then Frank concluded, and told the story of how his wife flew his father out for one of the PostSecret events, and I thought that was really touching, that his father started to get it. I wish my mother got it. I wish I'd mailed in that secret that I stuck in the back of her book. I wish PostSecret was something she and I could share. But I digress.

Then the mics opened up. And here's where it not only got really personal, but it was the point I'd been waiting for; sitting in a dark room with strangers and sharing secrets or stories, or asking Frank questions. And something odd happened. I got up and shared my secret. With 498 strangers. I talked about the secret that has changed my life, and still changes my life, in different moments everyday. Of how it's not even my postcard, but it is very much my secret. And I realise this is going to sound like I'm being coy or something, but I'm leaving that secret in that room, and in that bunch of secrets I linked to. Other people shared secrets, and stories, and cried, and hurt, and it was sad and beautiful all mixed into one. At the very end, a slideshow/video played.

When I left the event, someone I didn't know was going to be there- a friend- came up and approached me and told me how brave I was. I'm not sure if I'm brave. I'm not sure if I've ever been brave, in all the secrets I've kept or created. I've been human though, and so have the secrets, and I suppose that's all that matters. And I suppose that's it.

It feels like words can't really explain the experience of PostSecret, because as much as it is images and stories, it's also tears and laughter, and pieces of humanity that are allowed to just be. Putting that into some sort of adequate phrasing or elegant words ... I can't do that. So I hope this sufficed.