I walked around town a lot this summer wearing my giant headphones. Some of the time I was listening to music, but for most of it, there was a man inside my head.

It felt good, being seen, feeling open, feeling connected again. And since neither of us had a significant other, it seemed uncomplicated. Only, for some time, he was my best kept secret.

We had been keeping us hidden from one of my best friends, and I betrayed my sisterhood yet again, only this time to someone I dearly cared for. I rationalized that holding the information until the right time was for the best, an excuse if anything.

When I finally came clean it was in a moment where I felt it was going to come out as vomit instead. My confession had opened a door to the truth of the whole matter, and I found myself falling from the proverbial sky.

After admitting to me a few days later how the omissions made her feel, I felt a surge of agony run through me, and I asked myself, “why do I always rationalize secrets when it comes to men?”

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks that sent me into the forest asking to be struck by lightening. I was another woman with daddy issues, who needed to learn to love herself.

Sometimes we have to tear the scab of our wounds off and really bleed to leech out the illness. That’s why I can’t hang on to it. It was one of my greatest lessons.