Skeletons in the Closet

I’m reading Kathy Griffin’s autobiography.  That woman has crossed paths, worked with, or dated every single person you know in comedy.  But besides all the celebrities, she talks very openly about her personal and family life.  It’s raw and refreshing.  I thought my life was crazy, but damn does she have some skeletons in the closet.  I was reading her book last night before bed and probably brought it into my dreams because I woke up still thinking about it.

I used to believe that if I wrote an autobiography, it would be filled with salacious details.  Not compared to Kathy.  Not even compared to most people.  The difference is that I write about it.  The worst thing I think I’ve done was tell some guy’s girlfriend that I’d been sleeping with him for the past several years.  I just lost it when I found out he had a girlfriend.  I immediately sent her an email.  I couldn’t sleep.  I couldn’t eat.  Heart racing, I called a friend, “I just did the most horrible thing.  It’s awful, so awful.  I’m going to hell.”

“What?  What is it?  It can’t be that bad.”  She comforted.  “Did you kill someone?”

Isn’t it interesting the personal details people try to hide.  And who you disclose your darkest secrets to.  I thought about the following skeletons.  I know all of these people personally.

One of my therapists in Chicago had been in and out of prison!  I didn’t realize it until I did a google search on him after one of our sessions.

Molested by a teacher.

Had a sexual relationship with her father.

Had two abortions by the time she was 20.

Dad is a polygamist.

I know more than a handful of people who say they graduated from Cal and put it on their resume when they never finished their coursework.

Sister is on the street, homeless.

Had an affair with a priest.

Three babies, three different baby daddies.

Slept with his brother’s wife.

Had an affair with her married boss when she was engaged.

I know two separate people whose brothers committed suicide.

Had two DUIs.

Raised a child as his own until he found out the kid really wasn’t his.

Dean and I watched Up in the Air last night.  I practically called the ending.  Ouch!  I watch all this drama on the big screen and on TV, thinking that stuff like that never goes on in real life, but then I got to thinking of the list above, the people I know, and their past.  So very real.