The Cowboy Philosopher

labroth. It's 2018 and we're below the streets of Washington, D.C. I've come here

“in search of clues. So here we are in deck 50 in the snacks of the Library of Congress.”

I'm opening a door that's marked door 20. My guide through the Library of Congress's massive collection is a tall, shaggy man. His name is Steve Winnick. He looks a lot like Hagrid from Harry Potter, which seems about right for someone with a title of folkloreist. Steve has already led me through a maze of low ceiling stacks across a small bridge and into

a tiny elevator where the floor numbers go up as we move down. Finally, we arrive at our destination.

And in here, we find row upon row of collection boxes on the shelves and I'm looking for this collection, which is number AFC, 1979, 008. Steve pulls from the shelf, a cardboard box. Nobody's really used this collection very much, so it's simply, you know, been there waiting for you, really.

“The author of this collection is Richard Riley Shepherd, a small-time crook and con man”

who died in 2009. I've been tracking Riley Shepherd for a few months. My assumption is that there's nothing of significance in the box. But I'm about to discover that the story I thought I was reporting is not in fact the full story.

The story that's about to unfold before me is a story of obsession, its power, its beauty,

and its costs. This week on Hidden Brain, we'll bring you a classic episode about the peculiar life of a man named Riley Shepherd. He was a musician and writer who spent decades on a single grand project. Whether that project was a great quest or a great folly, that is for you to decide.

He was a genius, I think.

“He just was a compulsive liar, quite a master.”

He goes, getting out of town, getting out of town, getting out of town, getting out of town,

getting out of town, getting out of town, getting out of town, getting out of town.

I gotta get this done. I stumbled onto the story as I was contemplating an episode, not about obsession, but about fallen heroes. I'd asked Hidden Brain listeners to share examples from their own lives. One of the messages I hope I did this right was from Starsher Shepherd, she said her fallen hero was her dad, Riley Shepherd, whom she still loved.

I want to say that I had a great relationship with my father. He was totally cool in many ways and a great cook, totally into the story. When we talk, Starsher tells me that as a young girl, she idolized her dad. She has memories of those days that feel like tiny sparkling gems. My earliest memory of my dad is sitting on his lap and him smoking his cigar, and he would

make cigar smoke rings for me. Starsher would watch them transfixed as they rose in the air before her. I thought the smoke rings were magical. There was a lot that was magical for Starsher back then. She still remembers the little apartment in Hollywood with the Siamese cat and the cat hair and the hardwood floors. She remembers

how much she loved that her dad was around all the time. She didn't have a regular job and he would sit in the middle of the living room usually, wherever we lived and he would type. So he was working on things. He was working on, I didn't know what, but I would sit under his desk sometimes while he typed away and we would talk in between the pages and he would tell me things about show business.

And we were in their own little bubble, Riley in his late fifties and his little daughter, typing, talking, just being together. Sometimes a Riley had a little money, he takes Starsher out to eat at their favorite Hollywood hotspot, a restaurant called the Brown Derby. It was a place where Riley could drop shoulders with famous people, charm them with his warm southern accent and impress

his daughter on their way home. You know, the Hollywood stars were all around us. We could walk up the street and my father would tell me about movie stars when we walked. He seemed to know everything.

her about his musical career as a successful promoter, singer and songwriter. Occasionally,

he might even sing the song, his song. He told me and he told everyone that he wrote the song Blue Christmas. It wasn't true. Billy Hayes and J. Johnson wrote Blue Christmas. The person who made it famous? Elvis. If Riley had written Blue Christmas, money might not have been so tight for the family. I was told constantly that we were artists and that there were artists and there were

ordinary people and we were artists.

“Starsher eventually learned about her dad's most important artistic endeavor, not a song,”

but a writing project. The encyclopedia of folk music. And that was supposedly his life's work and it was vast. I mean, there were boxes there. Huge boxes of volumes of indexes and things he was working on in books. To fund its creation, Riley solicited money from investors, some of whom he convinced

to pour thousands of dollars into the project. Sometimes investors and build collectors would call to ask when they were going to get paid.

“He used to get on the phone with all kinds of people and said, "You didn't get the check?"”

What? The post office. He would constantly rail against the post office, so as a little girl, I also became very militant against the post office. I also would rail against the post office and if I had a pen pal or a friend that I was

writing a letter to, I'd always write on the outside of the envelope, you'd better deliver

this letter. You know, I was like enraged with the post office that they wouldn't deliver letters, because I just thought they're constantly throwing my dad under the bus and not mailing his checks. For many children, there is a moment when a curtain pulls back and parents are revealed for who they are. In perfect beings with flaws and failings. But for Starshia, the father she saw when the curtain opened was hard to recognize.

It happened one day when she was 12, hanging out at home. And the phone rang. So I picked it up, I said hello. The caller demanded to speak to her dad. Starshia said he was out. His voice was shaking and I could tell he was elderly and he just sounded like a mean old man to me. He scared me and he told me that my father took his life savings. The phone is in my ear and

“he's saying your father's a crook. Did you know that?”

Your father is a crook. How Starshia responded to that phone call when we come back. You're listening to Hidden Brain. I'm Shankar Vedanta. This is Hidden Brain. I'm Shankar Vedanta. In 1946, Riley Shepherd released a cover of the hit song, "Atomic Power". It was inspired by the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Riley was a rising talent. He had dark good looks, a soft southern twang, and the guitar skills to make a go of it. He signed with various labels. He seemed that he was headed somewhere.

But Riley Shepherd never achieved started. Instead, his life took a series of detours.

Riley of the time was 89. Kevin was interested in preserving the stories of all-time

“country Western performers. He thought Riley might be what profiling.”

The conversation they had over a crackly phone line was friendly and nostalgic and full of insider names most people wouldn't recognize it. That is Roy's wife. We played piano really hard. Oh really? Yeah. Gradually, Kevin pieced together Riley's backstory.

Richard Riley Shepherd was born in a farm near Wilmington North Carolina in 1918.

He dropped out of school in the fifth grade and decided to try his luck at singing.

“It was a heady time for music in the region. Groups like the mainors mountaineers”

were popularizing what was then called "Hilberley Music". Riley started out playing songs in menstrual shows. Soon he told Kevin,

he was getting gigs with "Hilberley" groups like the Dixie Reelers.

By the early 1940s, Riley had moved to Chicago. He toured with other "Hilberley" musicians and did comedy and acting work. He also began cultivating his image as a cowboy Kruna. As he created this new persona, he gave himself a catchy moniker. The cowboy philosopher. Where did you come up with that? Because I know you were calling yourself the "come up with it" and you came up with it. No did he? Because I found an ad from way back in 1945

when you were already using it. To top off his fancy new title of philosopher, Riley grew a dashing mustache and began scheming up fresh ways to get into the spotlight. The cosmopolitan church presents Dr. Richard Riley Shepherd. This is Tasha again. A few years ago, she found one of the old schliers that advertised her dad's lectures. Dr. Richard Riley Shepherd author, historian, world traveler, philosopher, in a series of educational lectures. The world

“traveler and philosopher was prepared to discuss a variety of important topics. Saturday, October 10th,”

God, man, Saturday, October 17th, marriage, Saturday, October 31st, democracy and capitalist. Saturday, November 7th, origin and growth of fascist Saturday. Even as he sought to make a name for himself with his educational lectures, Riley was still churning out songs at a frenzy pace, often releasing a new record every month. But Kevin says, Riley wasn't reliable. He'd signed with one record label and while his contract was still in force, he'd signed with another. He'd often used different

stage names or pseudonyms with different labels. For a time, Riley was able to make it all work in part because he did have a little star power. He'd done well with atomic power and later had another catchy tune titled Cowboy. Riley recorded it under the name, Dixon Hall. This was how Riley operated. He played fast and loose. He also worked as an agent,

of bluster and hype. This role allowed Riley to capitalize on one of his greatest strengths.

“He was a born salesman. He once boasted that he could have started his own religion.”

Riley was also a hustler in his personal life where the consequences of his actions were more serious. Marion Kiminic knows this well. She was adopted at birth. As an adult, she searched for and found her biological mother. From her, Marion learned that her father was Riley Shepherd. Marion's mother had met him while working as an actress in Chicago.

She said it was very charming, very good looking. He played the guitar and he sang and

I guess she was kind of spitting with him and she got pregnant. That she told Marion wasn't supposed to happen. He told her he was sterile and for what I understand he told every woman he was with that he was sterile. Whatever he achieved in the music industry, it was all winding down by the early 1960s. By then, Riley had picked up and moved on to the west coast.

He first went to Oregon and then to California. He told Kevin he gave up the music business

so he could turn his attention to a new project and encyclopedia of folk music. But Kevin things years of lying and cheating and breaking contracts had simply caught up with him.

“He made it sound like he did these moves for different purposes. I think usually he was”

getting out of town before he was being tart and feathered. It's perhaps fitting that the place Riley landed for the next chapter of his life was Hollywood. Tinseltown was shiny and bright and full of the kind of transformative stories that Riley loved. He arrived there with his common love wife and his young daughter, Stashe. For a while he thrived in his new role as Riley Shepherd family man.

But like most things in Riley's life, it didn't last. Your father is a crook. After all these years, Stashe still fixates on the memory of that old man's telephone car. Stashe says it was a turning point in her relationship with her father. That night she confronted him. Right when he walked in the door, I was like, you know screaming at him, you're a crook, you're a crook.

And he looked at me. He turned white and he was shocked and we argued we thought I don't remember the exact words. But I remember he stormed out and he went out to his car and he sat there and

“smoked and he didn't come back inside for a long time. That's what he would do when he was mad.”

He would go out at his car and pout. But the next morning, Riley did what came naturally to him. He turned on the charm. He tried to smooth things over. He made Stashe pancakes. He told her the encyclopedia was going to make a lot of money and that his investors would get paid. Stashe wanted to believe him. Well, you know, I loved my dad and he was very apologetic and sweet and you want to believe

your parents. And also he was very good at convincing. Stashe didn't know how much money her dad owed, but she got the sense he was constantly

And when my dad picked up the phone, he was pretending to be a Chinese man. He was pretending to be

“used this accent that like from breakfast at Tiffany's that horrible, you know,”

was I Mickey Rooney? Anyway, terrible. And but I knew it was him. You know your father's voice. I'm like dad and he was like, "Hung up on me." Riley took every shortcut he could to make a buck. For a time, he wrote porn under the pseudonym Zachary Quill. One of his books, glowing heat. Stashe says her mother told her that Riley had walked out of

formula. She said, "Oh well, dad used to get all these cheap novels and then he would write porn scenes, and he would have typists insert the porn scenes in these crappy novels and reselled them."

This was Tashe's life. Things were always off-kilter confusing.

She remembers another time when they had to flee their house before the landlord came, probably because Riley hadn't paid the rent. We got in this rickety old truck with all our stuff jammed in it. And my father's encyclopedia of folk music was in their very carefully packed. Those were the biggest boxes that we took. And all our other stuff was just kind of strewn in this

“truck, and it wasn't very well packed. And when we were driving down the highway, I remember that”

it was so weird. People were pointing at us and trying to get our attention and we were like, "I mean, I remember my mother being like, why are they waving at us?" And then realizing, "Oh, our stuff is flying out." Like our slim belongings that we had paired down from selling almost everything else. Those things were flying out. Not the encyclopedia of folk music, but my clothes and what few things. By the late 1970s, the family had settled in Porterville, California, a town on the

Western edge of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Riley spent his days working on his encyclopedia and to Stasher's mind, swindling everyone he could. It all ended when Stasher was 18. That year, 1983, Riley Shepherd did what he had done many times before. He disappeared. He told my mother who he had been with for whatever 23 years that he was taking a short trip to Los Angeles. But when she woke up in the morning, she realized that he had taken way more than

what you would need for a short trip. And he never, he did not come back.

For more than a year, Stasher had no idea where he was. Eventually, she found him, living about an hour away in Fresno. They reconnected, but everything had changed. She now saw him for exactly who he was. He glamorized the life of being a grifter. He glamorized the life of being a

“con man. That's what I understand now, that he was a con man. It's even hard to save that out loud. He was, though.”

For years, Stasher fell torn between her distaste for Riley's behavior and her love for the dad who made her smoke rings and took her to the brown derby. By the mid-80s, Stasher had left Portoville. A few years later, Riley returned to the town and played the role of the old cowboy musician. Stasher mainly stayed in touch by phone as the years passed. One day in 2008, she got a call. Her dad had taken a fall in his home and he ended up in the hospital after being alone on the floor

for days and I called him and he goes, "Honey, I know I'm going to die." But he was so sweet. I can't talk about that, but he said he loved me and he was proud of me. It was like beautiful. Riley rallied and moved to a nursing home. When Stasher visited, he seemed agitated. And he goes, "You don't know what it's like in here." I thought he meant the nursing home because three beds that I had the TV on was loud. I go, "What the nursing home? Because I know you don't

you don't know what it's like in here and he was pointing to his head." And I go, "What are you talking

Stasher tried to comfort him, but in retrospect, she wishes she'd asked a question.

"What bad things? Tell me about those. What were the bad things? Maybe if you tell me about them, you'll feel better. Because I'm wondering what all he would have told me." But he lived for a little bit in the nursing home. That was the last time that I visited him.

“After Riley died, Stasher wanted the world to remember her father correctly.”

So she made sure his obituary included not just his real name, but all the pseudonyms he was known to use. "Dick Scott, Hickie Free, Clim Holly, Johnny Rebell, Dixon Hall, Gene Gilmore,

Dick Gleason, Paul Lester, Richard Alexander, Albert Riley, Joe Graham, Richard James Hall."

After Riley died, Stasher had his body cremated. For a long time, she carried his ashes around with her. She'd scattered a handful here or there, which seemed fitting for a drifter. There wasn't much in the Riley Shepherd estate. Stasher packed up some of his letters, a cookbook he'd written for her, and various other papers. But his life's work,

“the encyclopedia he'd been toiling over all those years. He'd left out to someone else.”

You're listening to Hidden Brain. I'm Shankar Vedanta.

This is Hidden Brain. I'm Shankar Vedanta.

And in here, we find rope on rope of collection boxes on the shelves. By the time I got to the basement of the library of Congress, I figured I knew everything I needed to know about Riley Shepherd. He was a crook, a con man, a bad husband, and unreliable father. So as folklorist Steve Winnick pulls out the Richard Riley Shepherd collection from the stacks, I'm not holding my breath. Nobody's really used this collection very much, so it's simply,

“you know, been there waiting for you, really. Up in his office, Hagrid, aka folklorist Steve Winnick”

spreads out the papers from the Richard Riley Shepherd collection on a table. He picks up a letter. The date of this letter is September 7th, 1976. More than four decades ago, Riley wrote this letter to the registrar of copyrights. Stascha was 11 years old. So he was working on things. He was working on, I didn't know why. In the letter, Riley asks for the forms he'll need to copyright and encyclopedia.

He adds a long postcript. He says perhaps someone in the library of Congress would be interested in the following. Over the past 16 years, I alphabetically indexed more than 43,000 titles of songs, including published versions and variants in English, French, Spanish, etc. All of which have enjoyed a folk-type tradition within the borders of the United States and Canada. All the titles he continues have been alphabetically cross-indexed and cross-referenced

with the titles of books they appeared in, along with the editors and publishers. Each reference is clearly coded, so that practically every folk song relative to the United States, plus all its known versions and variants can be easily located. You may be interested to learn that the 43,000 titles are clearly the outgrowth of only 4,000 songs, texts, and tunes. He ends the letter this way. I know only one thing. I am the only person in the world with this

amount of cross-indexed, cross-referenced musical material. Unfortunately, I do not own or have access to a computer in which to feed the information. Perhaps the Library of Congress can offer suggestions. Riley wanted to get his encyclopedia to a wider audience. The chief archivist at the time wrote back and offered the names of potential publishers. He also said he'd like to see some of Riley's work, so Riley sent in the samples that the

Each title is followed by the first line or lines of the song and/or versions thereof, and this

“by the source. Example, Goose hangs high, the Civil War Ballad. It deals with Lee's invasion of”

Pennsylvania and the Battle of Gettys. As Steve Winick shifts through the materials, he slowly grasps the enormity of the project. So he's got 43,000 individual sheets or two sheets of paper however long it takes that he's got to then sort into 4,000 categories and then in addition to that, he asked to cross-reference each of those with all of the places that they've been published. So there's an enormous number of cross-references within this book that he had to do by hand

without the ability to electronically associate one item with another. What Riley Shepherd had been working on since 1960 was a monumental accounting of some 200 years of American folk music. It involved a search of nearly every available documentary source. Riley had obtained rare books at great expense, including many that were out of print. He had collated thousands of songs and organized them according to their provenance,

discovering common roots and pathways that linked different musical traditions together. Since he did not have a computer, almost no one did at the time, he did everything by hand, cross-referencing song lyrics and musical notations and historical footnotes. Crazy as it sounds, the entire system lived largely inside his own head. By the point he wrote to the Library of Congress, he had spent nearly two decades

trying to put down on paper what was in his head. Even as his life fell apart around him, and many of his closest friends and relatives came to think of him as a crook. At the time, as far as I know, no one had attempted something this ambitious in terms of indexing all the songs in America. Riley Shepherd, a man with a fifth grade education, an occasional writer of porn,

a con man and hustler, had attempted to create something that would require years of effort by a team of PhD archivists and a small army of researchers.

“The fact of the attempt, I think, is actually a significant fact in the history of”

folk song scholarship in the United States. And it's actually something almost nobody knows about. I wouldn't know about it if you hadn't brought it to my attention. And you know, I've studied this for quite a number of years. I asked Steve to choose a song and explain how Riley had classified it. So he opened volume three. So Ranna's finger down pages failed with type written entries. This is Holloway Joe, which is a sea shanty, and it says, "This is a short drag or short

haul shanty. It was taken from British sailors and Americanized, which means political references were eliminated from the text. American sailors preferred to concentrate on girls." For example, the British sailor saying, "Louie was the king of France before the revolution, but Louie got his head cut off, which spoiled his constitution." American sailors had more important things to sing about and change the words to,

"Once I had a German girl, but she was fat and lazy, then I had an Irish girl, she damn near

drove me crazy." The shanty dates back to around the second half of the 18th century,

though only in England, in the USA, it dates back to the years following the word 1812. For other English and American versions, see the works listed below, and then he gives a long list of books in which this song appears. And he actually gives you the music for the song as well? For many of the songs he does, yes, he does have music for Holloway Joe, as well.

“How does the tune of this song go? Do you remember it?”

When I was a little boy, it saw my mother told me, "Way, hold away, all the way, Joe." That if I didn't kiss the girls, my lips would all grow moldy away, all the way, all the way, Joe. I have to say the impressive thing is you close the book and you did that. This was all in your head, too. It was.

In 1979, three years after his first letter, Riley got in touch again,

with a library of Congress. He said he'd been unable to find a publisher. And so he writes, "Dear Mr. Hickerson, in case you don't remember, I have enclosed a photo copy of your letter to me, dated July 8th, 1977. First, I want to thank you for your suggestions and the addresses of possible publishers. I followed up, no funds are available for a work such as mine,

though they were interested in what I have done and would appreciate a copy of the folks'

to undertake the expense of its publication. So here I am, back to you again.

It was an act of desperation. If you were our serious about the library reaching some agreement with me, I am ready to proceed. My problem is this, I don't know what to ask for in terms of financial remuneration to myself. I do know that I cannot ask as much as I have spent in terms of time, work and money, but I would like to recoup at least some of my own expenditures if not payment

for my work and time. In fact, I must recoup some of what I have spent because I have already signed a lease on a small farm and house in Porterville, California and expect to move there in approximately six weeks. As I am, as they say in the country, music field, flat busted.

Riley never got what he was seeking. What he was asking was a significant outlay of money

that I just think the library couldn't afford at the time or couldn't, you know, a portion to that project because, as he says in the correspondence, in addition to these volumes, there are 54 other volumes of this book. 54 other volumes. After nearly two decades of painstaking work, came the final indignity. Rejection. Yeah, I think he was an early casualty, you might say, of the switch from published books

that is paper books to computer documentation and he's aware of this. I mean, because he talks about how it would be great if he could put this into a computer. Would you say that Riley Shepherd was a genius? He was a genius, I think. I mean, it's very impressive to see the amount of work that he did on this and he also had that sort of crazy

“perseverance that you have to have. So, you know, that's a whole other kind of genius.”

Here is a really amazing part. Riley continued to work on the encyclopedia for the next 25 years. I mean, it is the case that since he would have sent this to the library in 1979, a lot more versions of traditional songs were published. So, if he were trying to keep this book complete, he would have to continue to update it year after year. What are the interesting things that I'm not sure his family actually fully understands what he has done?

When I spoke with his daughter, Stasha, she just thought her dad was sort of obsessed with this

project that never seemed to go anywhere, that never seemed to end, that just grew infinitely.

And, you know, over the years, she, in fact, heard from people whom he had borrowed money from and taken money from and, you know, her impression of her dad is not a very positive impression. And in some way speaking with you, I get a different picture of this man.

“Well, I think that all scholars and particularly folk song scholars have something of the”

Riley Shepherd in them. And we would like to spend all our time and all our life immersed in the texts and tunes of folk songs. We just can't manage it because we have lives. And so the amount of yourself that you're willing to give to that might vary for different people. But we certainly have sympathy for someone who gave so much of himself to it. I don't know if you're familiar with the anthropologist Arnold Von Heinepp. He's the person who popularized the term rights of passage.

And Von Heinepp wrote a piece called The Research Project or Folklore Without End. And it was about a person who decided to write the definitive work on the evil eye. And he went to his Carol in the library and he began getting all the books about the evil eye and he compiled all of the references that he could find and he took it to his advisor and his advisor says this is a great start, but there's still other cultures and there's, you know, ancient Greek

“and Roman sources that you should look at. And so he goes back and he works on those. And this”

continues for years and years and eventually this man dies at his Carol in the library. And nobody quite remembers what he was doing there. And that's kind of the impression that you get of highway shepherd. But it turned out there was someone next to Riley in his final days as he labored away in his Carol. Before he collapsed and was sent to the hospital, Riley was living in a small house on a de-street importive ill. He was in rough shape. I thought, you know, he's a little bit

disheveled, but Steve Anselin, a portable native, says once you got to know Riley, he grew on

and former portable mayor. Steve says his dad and Riley bonded over a shared love of music.

“They were just sitting and listening to country western music, the old country western music,”

not the, not the new stuff. They were friends. They were also business partners. They wrote songs together. They recorded a few songs together. Mainly though, they worked on Riley's encyclopedia. Ted saw the genius in it. They, they spent hours and hours and hours just collecting all the material and then categorizing it. Steve says Riley was still consumed by the project. Well, he had music

spread all over. I mean, he had tables and chairs and floor and everything and he had have this

music spread out and he was trying to get it in some sort of a chronological order and by the artist, he was trying to get the artist with the song and he would have the song and then he would have the artist and so he would try to cross reference all of those. So it, it, it was, it was a labor of love. I'll tell you that, but he was, he just, now I haven't got time for that. I don't want

“to eat. I just, I got to get this done. This is, this is important and so he would just, he was funny.”

Steve and his father both felt. They were in the presence of an extraordinary human being. Riley Shepherd was, uh, was a master. He, he did a lot of things but he was quite a, quite a, quite a master. Steve's father willingly gave his time to the project and he gave money. Plenty of it. Steve says after Riley died, Stasha got in touch. She was concerned that her dad had calmed his dad. But Steve says, the money wasn't important. The money doesn't mean anything as far as I saw the

enjoyment that it brought to my dad. Riley left his life's work, the encyclopedia of folk music, to his friend Ted insulin. There were 40 boxes. Ted's taught them in his old insurance office and that's where they sat for years. I kept asking dad, you know, what are you going to do with these dad? What are you going to do with these? And he says, he says, there were worth a lot of money.

And I said, well, I know about what are you going to do with them? Ted never did anything with them.

He was old and suffering from dementia. Instead, he just relived his friendship with Riley. After Riley died, um, my dad had a little, um, little record player in his office and, uh, he would put on a lot of Riley's country Western music. And he, he, he just enjoyed Riley, enjoyed the joyous friendship. When Ted insulin died, Steve gave the encyclopedia to another man in town who happened to be a country music songwriter. Other copies are also floating around.

Not long ago, Stasher says a couple who invested in Riley's encyclopedia, got in touch. They were willing to sell their copy to her for $500. She bought it. She says, it's huge. Well, it's, it's weird to see the whole thing and how much work he actually put into it. Because after I realized how much my father fabricated on various things from, you know, it, he just was a

“compulsive liar. Sometimes he would make things up and I couldn't figure out, why? Why did you lie about that?”

Why didn't you brag about the songs you actually wrote? Why did you say you wrote, blue Christmas or whatever? And so I became kind of jaded and I began to think that maybe the whole project, the encyclopedia was not even worth thinking about it all. I loved my dad, but I kind of grilled my eyes whenever I thought about these projects because so much, so much smoke and mirrors around it.

He sounds like a man still doing what he loves, honoring the music he had learned as a boy,

“trying to preserve it. In fact, he told Kevin, there were still plenty of songs in music”

that were left in him. I'm writing, I'm writing one now. I'm going to call the older you get. The more it's going to cost you to do the thing he did when you were young. When an old man's in love, he just thinks he's in love. He's not cooking with gas, he just wanted it over. It was gone like that. Songs and novels are filled with stories about people with great obsessions. We have strong opinions about such people when they succeed, when they produce the

Taj Mahal or Hamlet or the iPhone. We hail the obsessions that built the monuments of this world. When we count the collateral damage that people with obsessions leave in their wake,

“especially when those obsessions only produce the unreadable tone on the evil eye or an unpublishable”

encyclopedia on folk music. Obsessions start to look like folly. Trouble is, you usually do not know whether an obsession is a great quest or a great folly. Until it's over.

Shortly after this episode first aired in 2019, Starsha shared a version of her father's encyclopedia

with the internet archive in San Francisco. It's now available online. We have a link to it in the show notes. More recently, we reached back out to Starsha and she said she remains skeptical of the idea that her father was a genius. What she does know is that he was a man of many secrets. She's discovered even more pseudonyms that he used over the years and many more details about his relationships with women. But it's likely none of those revelations were as shocking to her as that first phone call

she received all those years ago. Your father is a crook. Across that crackly phone line, those words, your father is a crook, must have landed like a thunder clap. Learning that your parent is the villain of someone else's story is painful. Secrets like this can cause deep ruptures and families. Now, the secrets that most of us hold are not this way, but even small secrets can be a heavy burden.

“Not long ago, we heard from a listener named John who's been carrying a secret like this.”

When he was in college, John studied abroad in Ethiopia. He lived in a small town teaching English to high schoolers. One of John's brightest students would hang around him a lot. This student was fascinated by the United States and hungry to learn what it would be like to live

there. And ultimately, I realized he wanted to go to America and he wanted me to be his conduit

and maybe sponsor to go into America. And so this, as a 18-19-year-old, put me in a precarious situation because I felt like I was in no position to sponsor somebody and wouldn't even know where to start. I told him that I would look around. I'd ask around for opportunities or other people that could help him, but it put me in a position where I can know what to do and maybe uncomfortable that he had sort of thrust this responsibility on me.

I kind of started to prefer hanging out with other students and other people when I could. John felt bad about avoiding his student, but he didn't know what else to do. This came to a head when John and a few friends decided to take a weekend vacation. I made sure not to tell him this because I just didn't want him tagging along. I knew that he would be sort of in my ear the whole time and sort of ramping up this responsibility

that he had placed on me. So when he asked me when we were leaving from the bus station, I lied. I told him that we would be leaving at 6.30 in the evening. When in fact we were going

is that he was pretty keen and asked around and found out that we were in fact leaving at 5.30.

So when I got there to meet with my friends and get on the bus, sure enough, there he was. He came along and we had a good time. There was a little bit of that uneasiness about the whole situation. Obviously I felt horrible about lying to him. But it was a secret that I kind of kept to myself from the others. Obviously my friends wondered why he was there but they didn't know that I had tried to keep him away from it

by lying to him and I felt really, really bad that I had done that.

John has ruminated on the life for years. He's sharing it for the first time with the hidden brain audience.

From the outside looking at his secret might seem trivial. Sure, maybe he could have been kinder or more forthcoming with the student. He could have said that he wasn't in a position to help.

“Why has the secret weighed on him so heavily and for so long?”

After the break, stories and questions about the secrets we keep and the harm they can cause. You're listening to hidden brain. I'm Shankar Vedanta. This is hidden brain. I'm Shankar Vedanta. Recently, I heard a shocking statistic. 80% of people lie to their doctors. Doctors promote our well-being, their bare witness to our tales of pain, they heal us when we are sick.

You would think we would be fully transparent with the people trying to help us. I learned that statistic from Leslie John. She's a psychologist at Harvard University and the author of Revealing the underrated power of oversharing. We talked with her on two recent episodes of the show. They were titled "Keeping Secrets and Coming Clean." Today, Leslie returns to the show to respond to listener comments and stories about the

costs of "Keeping Secrets." Leslie John, welcome back to Hidden Brain. Thanks so much for having me. Leslie, in our interactions with other people, we spend a lot of time weighing how much of ourselves to share with them. Why is it that so many of us avoid

“revealing ourselves to others? That's the million dollar question, right?”

So there are many elements to this answer. The number one, I think the most obvious answer is that we're scared. For good reasons, so our minds immediately go into what would go wrong if I said the thing and we worry about rejection and embarrassment and conflict and loss of status and these are all valid concerns. But there's a problem here because if you think about how to make a good decision, you don't want to just think of the risks of doing the thing, right? You want

to also think of the risks of not doing the thing among other considerations. But again and again, when I give people different what I call disclosure dilemmas, the first thing they go they're very

naturally come up with the risks of revealing. And those risks are valid. But the problem is people

don't go further unless you prompt them to, unless you say, "Okay, what about the risks of not

“revealing?" But the other thing that you said that was really key in this question is this word,”

the default. Why do we default? We default the silence so naturally. We don't even realize we're doing it. Right. In your research, Leslie, you found that keeping a secret can negatively impact our physical and mental health. Describe for me very briefly some of these costs. Yeah. So many studies have shown that holding secrets is associated with all kinds of negative health outcomes. It's associated with depression and anxiety. It's associated with

physiological stress markers. It's associated with greater rumination, with poorer relationships.

Many secrets that we keep often center on regrets that we have, maybe a time that we

lied or stole or cheated someone. Here's a message we received from a listener named Claire. So about nine years ago, I was alone on a close family friend's property. And I really had an archived pee. So I popped a squat and med pee. I look up and I see a security camera on their property pointed right at me. They're so concerned, you know, what would they think when they saw the video? They didn't even know I was in the property. It was just super embarrassing.

And so for nine years, I couldn't look the, this was my friend's parents, either of them in the eye because I just, you know, I was in sure if I saw the video and what they thought and what they were

“wondering. For nine years, I had the secret and I didn't tell anyone my family about it.”

And then this last summer, I finally came clean and told my parents about why I felt so uncomfortable.

And their friends, and they just looked at me. They couldn't understand why I was telling them. This, what they thought was a completely pointless story. From nine years ago, which had been haunting me for almost a decade. No one seemed to care. I told, you know, my friend about it and nobody cared at all after nine years of being so subconscious. So, Leslie clearly, this secret was a much bigger deal for Claire than it was for her parents

and her friend. What's interesting is that the story echoed what we heard from several other listeners, the distress that we feel about our secrets is often wildly disproportionate to the reactions of others, including, you know, our quote unquote victims. Why is it that our secrets have this outsized impact on us? Yeah. Oh, Claire, I feel for you. The word that it was haunting her. Yes, it was haunting her and then in the end it was moot. Like it, I was hoping she'd say that

they got a good laugh out of it at least or maybe they, maybe they still had the footage and they could laugh about it. But it sounds like it was not even. She didn't give it laughter, but she did

“get relief, I think, in the end. And I think one of the reasons why they often affect us more”

than it ends up being to the person we reveal them to is because for one, we're so used to keeping things inside. And so we actually don't have the data that disproves this belief that it's a big deal, right? Yeah. And this is why I really think of revealing as a skill as a practice, right? If you do it more, then you realize that you get feedback, you're like, oh, that wasn't such a big deal. Yeah. It's funny because I was thinking about a dear friend of mine

recently, we've rekindled our friendship. She, we were roommates in college and she said to me, I have a confession to make. When we live together, I was the one that ate the Oreos. Like, I was like, great. I didn't hear a member of this. But clearly, like that was like the

second thing she said to me, one of my favorite psychology studies and findings. It's called

the spotlight effect, where we think that people notice what we do and care what we think and do,

“more than they actually do, which may be sound cynical, but I think it's liberating one of my best”

friends the way he assuages me. He's like, nobody cares. So in this case, like, they're literally was a spotlight on her. It was a video tape, but she went down this road of like, think about it. Okay, so there's this tape that exists as if for that to be true, for them to have seen her, they'd have to have like watched all of the footage, right? Like, yeah. Um, and the study that it, that it was a hilarious oldy, but a goody social psych study, where they got one of them was

they had people where Barry Manelow t-shirts, like big, blaring Barry Manelow t-shirts, which I'd love Barry Manelow, but maybe they were like uncool or something then. And they forced them to wear it for the day and asked them how many people they thought would notice. And of course, people wearing it, think everybody's gonna notice, and they'll be a fool, but but really nobody notices. So we're really kind of self absorbed in that way. I'm wondering if the fact

that Claire kept her secret for so long, in some ways amplified it in her mind. In other words, you know, the longer she kept it, the more she is thinking about it, the more she's illuminating about it. And the bigger it gets in her mind. But of course, it's not getting bigger in anyone else's mind. Completely. Yeah, they kind of start to take a secret, start to take a life of their own. And they compound each other. And one of the reasons is that they're in our head. When we

when we're just thinking and cycling and illuminating in our head, we can make some really crazy

for that to happen, the person would have had to watch the video. And also if they watched the video without it been so bad anyway, maybe they would have laughed. Right. Right. So there are secrets that have to do with what we've done, but there are also secrets that get at who we are. Here's listener Emma. I was born in 1956, assigned male at birth. When I was four or five, I realized that I wished I'd been born a girl. Through elementary school, I fantasized when I went to bed

“about what it might like to be a girl. But I was certain that it was the deepest secret”

anyone could have. And I would never reveal it to anyone. I saw therapists for depression

throughout my adulthood, but never fully disclose these feelings. This went on for almost 40 years, until early 2014, when my wife suggested that I returned to therapy. This time, I knew I had to come clean. It was so scary and it took weeks to let it all out into the open. I started my transition in 2017 and have absolutely no regrets now, living authentically as a woman. So one thing that strikes me about Emma's story, Leslie, is that this is not about something that she did,

but about who she is. Talk about the difference between those two things when it comes to holding

secrets? Yeah. I think that they point to kind of two motives to revealing, right? Something you did,

the kind of feeling may be shame and concern about what the other person thinks if you reveal it sort of interpersonal, but these kinds of secrets about your identity are more intra-personal challenging, right? Because you make you kind of question, what do I reveal of myself and not? If I don't revealism, I'm being inauthentic. One way that I think about these things is if you have an identity that is core to who you are, but it can be stigmatizing. If it's really core to who you are,

it's important that some people know. People close to you because knowing being known for who you are

“is incredibly important, but it also doesn't mean that you have to tell everyone. So you can be”

really selective about who you choose to share and not and what Emma did here was beautiful in

that Emma worked with her wife. She worked with a therapist and it's also not, I also want to highlight that disclosure is often especially with these very hard fraught ones. It's a process. It's a campaign. It's not a one-shot thing. And I think that also hopefully liberates people into thinking, well, if I didn't quite describe myself right this time, I will have another conversation. It's an ongoing interactive dialogue. Sometimes the secrets that we keep are so at odds with the person

who we want to be, it can be very difficult to bear. Here's a message we received from a listener named Dean. I had several affairs without my wife knowing for past few years and it was so shameful that I would compartmentalize. It was like a different person and I kept that from her until she found out that I told her about everything. So right now I'm in sexual addiction recovery, trying to make things better for myself and for her.

So Leslie, I can really hear the pain in Dean's voice. He used the word shameful to describe his secret and this is a recurring theme that we heard and that you've explored and a central

“reason I think that we try and keep things from others. We're worried about how they would judge us”

if we come clean. Yes, absolutely. And that's a completely valid concern. It's especially valid when just the people that you're really close to and you love them and you feel like you've wronged them. This is kind of one of the hardest types of disclosures to make. He also hit on this point. He said, it's like I'm a different person and that's a kind of self-dissonance that is a really hard thing to deal with because we like to think of ourselves as you know,

faithful kind to our spouses. But then there's this thing we did that is that it's antithetical to that and so then you're like, well, who am I? And he said compartmentalize and that's kind of a coping mechanism is to compartmentalize that but it's not the healthiest of coping

are we keeping them in our interest or are we keeping them in the interest of someone else? Yeah,

“talk about that tension, Leslie. Oh, that's exactly where my mind was going as well. I think that”

this is a core thing when thinking about whether to reveal a secret, what's your north star? What's your purpose? Is your purpose because sometimes we reveal secrets because we just feel so guilty and ashamed and it's more to make ourselves feel better to share the burden than it is to actually grow from it. And so, you know, think to yourself, is this something that I'm doing to alleviate burdens to myself? And if that's the case, is telling my spouse the right thing or

that just going to impose the burden on her, perhaps it's better to talk about it with a therapist

than in that case, right? Whereas if your motive is to really understand your relationship better and what your goals are and how you relate to each other, well, then that might be an integral way of starting such conversations. When we come back, what happens when you learn that

“someone has been keeping a secret from you? You're listening to Hidden Brain. I'm Shankar Vedanta.”

This is Hidden Brain. I'm Shankar Vedanta. Keeping a secret can know at you. Leslie John at Harvard University has found that it can harm our physical and mental health

and damage our relationships. Leslie, I'd like to talk a bit about family secrets.

Hano is from Germany. The last time Hano saw his maternal grandfather alive. His grandfather hinted that he had a shocking secret that he was an officer in the Nazi forced labor service during the Holocaust and that he had witnessed or even joined in the ethnic cleansing of Jews. Probably had been at least a witness to one of those burnings of wooden synagogues in Poland, where members of the local Jewish community had been forced into and the house then put on fire

over their heads and he had been a part of the chain of command. Leslie Hano went on to say how troubled he is by learning the secret. He now feels a terrible sense of responsibility for the actions of his family members, people who are long since deceased. Hano is obviously not responsible for the actions of his grandfather.

“Would he have been better off not learning this terrible secret?”

Oh geez, that's such a hard question. I guess it depends how you define better off, you know. I think one of the things that makes this so hard is that Hano does not have the opportunity to make more sense of it by speaking with his grandfather again. And I think that's really the challenging thing because when we have these hard truths in our history and we learn about them, the way that we can metabolize them is by talking about them with the people

who went through it and understanding their perspective and what it was like and their motives and how they think about it, that gives us some closure, some sense-making, some sense of certainty. It's incredibly therapeutic and I feel sad for Hano that he didn't have that opportunity and so often we think about these moments of revealing as a one-shot, right? But like we can go back to the person and if they're alive and we can continue to engage in a conversation and ask

them more questions because there's will be a point where we're no longer able to do that. In some ways, Hano's story reminds me that there are some secrets that are actually held not by just individuals and not just by families but by anti-groups of people. Yes, completely. And those are really interesting because they introduce this element of social pressure, right? It's like this unspoken thing that we all know but we don't

want to talk about and then even if someone does want to say something, they feel like they can't because they assume that others also don't want to talk about it, right? This is this idea that like if nobody is talking about it, we assume that nobody wants to talk about it. But what we can do in these situations is try testing the waters, broaching the topic. So here's an example, not

at work and they were sitting around a table and it was super frustrating, they weren't getting anywhere. And normally like you don't say that, you don't say it's frustrating. Like people were just

kind of grin and bearing it and she finally said you know what? I'm going to say it. She said

I feel frustrated and then as soon as she said that everyone else said, "Oh my gosh thank you, I feel frustrated too." Like there was this collective relief and this collective bonding and then they were able to move forward. I want to stay with Hano's story for a second. I'm struck by the fact that many Germans to this day, you know, still feel the shame of the Holocaust, many keep secrets like Hano's family does but it's also striking that many Jewish Holocaust survivors

prefer not to discuss the horrors that they witnessed or that they experience. They don't talk to their friends and family about what happened. I'm wondering what this tells you about the

“nature of secrets, Leslie. Yeah, I think that one reason we keep secrets is out of kindness”

and not wanting to burden people, right? Not wanting to burden people about the horrors one has

experienced and that's totally valid and fair and understandable. It's not always good to talk about

the things that are bothering you. Sometimes if you talk about the things that are bothering you, you end up perseverating on them and thinking about them even more. So perhaps there's that reluctance too. There's been research on this Holocaust survivors who have been able to make sense of what happened to them are much more positive outcomes and I don't mean, you know, make it okay at all but to kind of develop a deeper understanding of why this happened to them, all of the understand

their feelings throughout the complexities of it, the people who are able to process that and tell

their story, they do so much better at moving on to the future and growing. But if we just kind of

vent about it all and the goal isn't kind of growth and narrative sense making, then that's not the good kind. I do think though that I know this from data that people think that they're going to be more of a burden than they actually are and in fact so often people are happy to hear your disclosures. I mean, you would be happy to hear a story like that but you would feel you would feel very close to the person because one you understand the better but two, they chose to

“confide in you. How special is that? When we come back, could keeping a secret ever be a good thing.”

You're listening to Hidden Brain. I'm Shankar Vedanta. This is Hidden Brain. I'm Shankar Vedanta. Leslie John is a psychologist at Harvard University. She studies the science of secrets and self-disclosure, how much we share of ourselves and the benefits and costs of doing so. Her book is titled "Revealing the Underrated Power of Oversharing." So Leslie, we talked earlier about how families or even nations of people can carry collective

secrets and often this happens not through explicit discussion but via the more subtle norms of a group. We heard from a listener named Philip. He grew up in an evangelical Christian community and would spend upwards of 70 hours per week knocking on doors to proselytize. But then one day when he was in his mid-twenties, Philip realized he was actually an agnostic. Now that was difficult enough but on top of that the group I was a part of maintained a very strict set of rules around

a post to see if someone broke with doctrine and excommunication if someone broke through rules. So that is I was at risk of losing my wife of four years, my family, my friends, my community, pretty much everything. If I spoke out or acted on my beliefs. So I didn't four years. And I wound up suffering all of the side effects that Leslie John alluded to, psychologically, physiologically, socially, you name it. But the desire for coming clean so to speak and having

that sensation of it simply feels good, just built up. I started confiding in a childhood friend

“about the problem. It felt really good to be able to express myself honestly without judgment”

but because this friend was around my age and female it also constituted a breach of trust and the emotional commitment with my wife. It hastened the demise of our already shattered marriage and

is gone by though, I can point to the things I did wrong and say, okay, I learned something from that.

But the thing that I regret the most still is the continuing to conceal my beliefs for as long as I did out of fear. Leslie, what strikes me in Philip's story is that he was incentivized to keep his secret by his faith community and this is true in a lot of settings, not just religious ones. Talk about the difficulty of fighting, not just our own feelings of shame and remorse about a secret, but going against the norms and expectations of the communities to which we belong.

Yeah, I mean, it takes so much courage. Philip, you are so courageous. I admire you so much and thank you for sharing your story. One of the things that's so hard here is because it goes against

the norm. It feels like you are wrong and which makes it hard to validate yourself. And this is

already a really hard thing to come to terms with to really understand about yourself. So it kind of impede self-learning. But the thing that really gives me hope is that Philip did find that ally. The woman he confided in. Now he said he breached kind of a social contract of intimacy with his

“wife, but I think him saying that also I could feel the realization that, well, you know,”

your spouse is someone in my view, we should be going for total emotional intimacy, right? That means you can tell them anything. And if you're not at that stage or you're not working to work, then I think that's something to take note of and you can make a change. I mean, I believe his spouse was part of that same faith community. So in some way, you know, talking about what was going on in his mind would have been a challenge to the faith community and to her.

Right. And so that he's self-criticizing. He says he breached my wife. But in some ways, you could think of his non-telling her as an act of kindness because as we talked about a little bit earlier, sometimes when you share something with someone, it then becomes a shared burden. And it would have become to burden to her. So you can kind of play it both ways. There's these things usually are not black and white. I also thought it was interesting to me the beautiful

takeaway in the end of how he said, I regret having concealed it for so long. And I can't tell you the number of times I've heard this being able to be who you are and feel known for who you are and reveal it is deeply intrinsically rewarding. Right. I mean, he talks about this almost burning desire he had to come clean to get the secret office chest and it's almost like we have these competing forces within us, Leslie, where a house divided when we have a secret because we have

“this desire to hide and this desire to reveal. Totally. And that's why I think like really”

try to like take the temperature down a bit and thinking, what are the risks of revealing? That's natural. But what are the risks of not revealing? And what are the benefits? And like if you can kind of start to put your finger on these things, then they become much more manageable. And you kind of embrace the duality and complexity instead of hiding from it. We also heard from some listeners who argued that it's not necessarily a bad thing to keep your cards close to your chest.

Listener David writes, sometimes we need to recognize that we don't need to know everything about a person to enjoy that company. And sometimes we need to respect that not everyone is comfortable sharing their secrets with us. While your guests may feel that we should share more, I would argue that we should be more tolerant of each other and that tolerance will lead to more trust and that trust will lead to more disclosure. What do you think of David's point here, Leslie,

that we should focus more on tolerance and building trust rather than feeling pressure to disclose our secrets or demand that others tell us their secrets? Oh, this is such an important point.

Exactly. So the point isn't we should always share more. In fact, the people that reveal the most

wisely, the best reviewers are the people that have the most disclosure flexibility. What that means is they have the widest range. They can go from total openness, baby, with their spouse to like complete guardedness in like a high stakes negotiation. So it really is about having the range.

“Now that being said, yes, I think that I keep discovering more and more benefits of being a bit more”

open a lot of the time. I think that we should have more tolerance and trust and empathy for people 100%. And I also think that in a lot of situations, we should share more. In fact, one very powerful way of building trust is actually to share, to to reveal sensitive information literally builds trust. Hmm. Well, there's no name Tracy called into share that she thinks

I love listening to secrets. I love having secrets. When I got married, my husband said to me,

you know, you have you love secrets. I just wonder where does the love of secrets come from and

“is normal? Do other people feel this way? Thank you. So Leslie, can you tell Tracy if she is normal?”

Tracy or normal? I bless you. I love this. It's such an important point. In fact, I ask people I did a little survey and I asked the nationally representative sample of 300 Americans recently. Have you ever enjoyed keeping a secret? And 49% said yes. So about half of the people. And I love keeping secrets too. But there's a difference, right? There are different kinds of secrets. And the secret that comes to mind when I hear, listen to Tracy was these secrets of like

kind of these moments of shared understanding and mind. I'm out of like, for example, when

my work has been my bestie at work, we should kind of share the same sense of taste and ideas.

And so when someone's presenting something and we think it's boring, like, we'll look at each other and we have this like lovely little delightful grin or, or my husband and I when we have this shared understanding of something and we're at a dinner party and we just know that we're both thinking the same thing. Like, that's a beautiful, beautiful moment. And it really enhances intimacy because it's the specialness of that person and that relationship. There's one of my

favorite psych studies and other oldie but goodie is they got them to play footsie with each other, underneath the table and they were having a conversation with other people there. And half of the people that were playing footsie were supposed to keep it a secret. And then they measured at the end like how enjoyable that task was. And it was the ones that played footsie that were charged with keeping it a secret that had the most fun, right? So it's it's having this like special

“thing together that can be very fun and bonding and beautiful. I mean, I think this is also true”

at an organizational level, you know, that they're things that sometimes an organization or a company is trying to do and it's it might be, you know, a trade secret. They might be working on something that is, you know, a joint project that the rest of the world doesn't know. And clearly, those are the kinds of situations that draw people together. So even if it's not an intimate relationship, a shared secret can bring people together. Yes, I love that. I love that.

It can be really motivating. And you can see even this like at a group level keeping secrets, positive secrets like a surprise party isn't it so fun when, you know, you're in on the fact that your friend is having a surprise 40th for their spouse. And then you're at the soccer field and you see the spouse and you see their friends. And you all have these like fertive lovely glances. It's just a

“really, really sparky, beautiful moment. Yeah, I've often thought that the people who are”

enjoying the surprise enjoy the surprise more than the person getting the surprise. Oh, I completely agree. Like I would, I would not want to surprise party because I like the anticipation and the savoring and I like to be able to control things. But yeah, that's so well-fledged. It's interesting though because when you when you mentioned companies and trade secrets, so it also may be think of work that I've done with my colleague Ryan Buel on how when companies reveal things,

not trade secrets, not everything. But when they've revealed surprising things, some of the benefits we see when people reveal things. We also see when firms reveal things. Like we worked with this large credit card company in Australia where what they did was they decided to reveal the downsides of the credit cards, right? It's like anti marketing. Like, there's a high interest rate. So they did this for the credit cards and what they found was that

this actually didn't scare customers away. It enhanced trust and it increased customer lifetime because the customers like trusted the bank more. Leslie says the same pattern often holds in our personal relationships as well. When we lean to what sharing our thoughts with others,

it can increase the trust between us and the people we care about. The problem is,

often we don't even realize all that we're keeping to ourselves. Leslie wasn't fully aware of the extent to which she was holding back until she started paying attention and documenting this behavior in herself. She now keeps a list of the times she has revealed secrets and the times she has not. I'm doing some little data collection here because I'm a nerd. I've got a column here that says said and a column that says unsaid and I'm going to tick off. This is really high tech.

Okay, so I wake up in the morning. I roll over and bet I say high cally. What I don't say is I slept really badly and when I don't sleep well, I can't regulate my emotions. We go into the bathroom. We stand in front of the mirror. We're brushing our teeth. What I think

myself acne? I think these things, but I don't say them. We're not even down in the kitchen yet.

We're just in the bathroom and already my little tally here is four to one. I could go on, but I won't. And so my point isn't that like we should say all of the things that are in our mind.

“You don't want that. I don't want that. But rather, I think we should consider saying the things”

more. And before I started doing this for myself, I didn't even consider saying, oh, you know,

I thought I the thoughts about my body or whatnot when I had these when looking in the mirror. And now, because I think about it more, I share more. And those, that's a perfect example of where sharing is really a good thing to do because, you know, if I share how I feel about myself,

“then my partner knows me better. And that's fundamentally intimacy building. If I tell them”

the practical thing that I slept happily, will then he's going to know that the rest of the

day he's got to, like, kind of treat me with kid gloves because he knows me, but he can't read my mind. We can't read each other's minds. So should we follow Leslie's advice and share more of those bathroom mirror thoughts that we usually keep to ourselves? Next week, listeners share their stories

“of self-disclosure and how other people responded when they reveal more about themselves.”

Leslie John is a psychologist at Harvard University. She's the author of Revealing, the underrated power of oversharing. Leslie, thank you so much for joining me today on Hidden Brain. Thanks so much for having me. Hidden Brain is produced by Hidden Brain Media. Our audio production team includes Annie Murphy Paul, Kristen Wong, Laura Correll, Ryan Katz, Autumn Barnes, Andrew Chadwick and Nick Woodbury. Tara Boyle is our executive producer.

I'm Hidden Brain's executive editor. If you love Hidden Brain, please check out our new YouTube channel. We have episodes for you about courage, choking on the pressure, and overlooked tool to simplify your life and so much more. You can find us at youtube.com/@HiddenBrain or just click the link in our show notes for today's episode. I'm Shankar Vedantam, see you soon.

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