Secrets, Shame, and the Silent Weight We Carry

by Gary Domasin

After reading Michael Slepian’s work on the psychology of secrecy, I’m left thinking less about the secrets themselves and more about the quiet damage they inflict. His book, The Secret Life of Secrets, doesn’t just catalog the kinds of things people hide-it explores what happens when we carry those hidden truths alone, and how that burden can quietly erode our health, happiness, and sense of connection. Slepian’s research is staggering in scope: 50,000 people surveyed, hundreds of studies, and a decade spent mapping the emotional terrain of secrecy. What emerges is a clear pattern: people who keep more secrets tend to feel worse physically and emotionally. Their relationships suffer. Their joy dims. And often, it’s not the act of hiding that hurts most—it’s the mental weight of living with the secret day after day.

One of the most striking ideas is that secrecy isn’t just about protecting others from the truth. It’s often about protecting our own self-image. We see ourselves as moral, decent people. When we act against that image, say, through infidelity or deception, we bury the evidence. But the shame doesn’t stay buried. It festers. Slepian notes that the more immoral we judge our secret to be, the more shame it evokes. And shame, unlike guilt, doesn’t push us to make amends; it isolates us.

The data on infidelity is especially revealing. One in three people admitted to cheating, and among them, responses varied: some vowed to never tell, some confided in a third party, and some came clean to their partner. Interestingly, when Slepian asked people in committed relationships whether they’d want to know about a one-time betrayal, three-fourths said yes. That’s a sobering reminder that while we fear disclosure, many people value honesty, even when it hurts.

But Slepian doesn’t advocate confession for confession’s sake. His advice is more nuanced: if a secret is harming your well-being, talk it through with someone you trust. Not necessarily the person you wronged, but someone who can offer compassion, perspective, and maybe a nudge toward resolution. The goal isn’t just to unburden-it’s to understand.

He also explores the strange ways we punish ourselves for secrets we feel we got away with. People deny themselves pleasure, take on unpleasant tasks, or ruminate endlessly. It’s a kind of self-imposed penance, but it doesn’t resolve the underlying tension. As long as the secret remains, so does the sense of escaping justice, and the cycle of self-punishment continues.

What I found most moving was Slepian’s personal story. For 26 years, his parents kept secret the fact that he and his brother were conceived through donor insemination. Everyone else in the family knew. When the truth finally came out, it reshaped his understanding of secrecy, not just as a researcher, but as a son. “We may not want our secrets to be known,” he writes, “but we do want ourselves to be known.” That line lingers.

Ultimately, the book isn’t a call to bare all. It’s a call to discernment, to self-compassion, and to connection. Some secrets are harmless. Others are corrosive. The challenge is knowing which is which, and having the courage to speak when silence is doing us harm.

“If any sort of secret is affecting your well-being, I would advise you to at least talk it through with someone you trust,” says Michael Slepian.

Michael Slepian is the author of the new book The Secret Life of Secrets and an associate professor of leadership and ethics at Columbia Business School.