Life Unarmored

There are vast swaths of my life that I do not talk about. 


It's always been like this for me, and I'm sure I'm not alone on this behavior, but to myself, from the inside peeking out, it seems bizarre.  These days, people share everything.  Your parties end up on Facebook and Twitter before you even leave them and God help you if you call out sick tomorrow, because HR has already seen that photo of you doing that thing at that place with that guy.  It's as if the whole world adopted a practice I used to engage in when I was younger - just live your life on broadcast, and be a wide open book to the world.  


But really, do we do that?  We still don't share our deepest darkest fears and secrets on social networks.  I tried an experiment with this on Facebook.  I still have the group set up for the folks I had chosen.  I still do not talk to them about everything, and I reckon the reverse is true.  I know of no one that shares their every last fear and secret, their desires and their drives, nobody that doesn't have at least one piece of armor wrapped around them, at least one thing you may never, ever know.  


I don't think this is entirely abnormal or unhealthy.  Everyone has thoughts they keep to themselves, things they don't really discuss with others.  We obey the taboos of our common culture and omit things.  Or we embrace the rebellion of a counter culture and discuss them in graphic detail - and steer clear of the more urbane parlance.  But what becomes of us when circumstance and one or the other set of mores wraps us up in armor?  


It's not just societally imposed, either.  There is safety in the armoring of the soul.  Hidden safely behind That Which Isn't Discussed, we can obscure everything over in taciturn silence, our reticence requiring inquiring minds to mind their business.  We are not questioned about these things if they are That Which Isn't Discussed.  The armor goes on, the self is protected, these weaknesses are never exposed, and we are suddenly made Achilles, all dipped in the stuff.  


But Achilles was held by the ankles when dipped, leaving them the one lone place that can still be touched.  Imagine had he not been killed.  Perhaps, gone long enough in his impenetrable shield of all shields, he would have yearned to be held again?  Maybe time after time of being touched with only a toe he would have yearned for the embrace of an arm or hand?  What's the the likelihood that Achilles would have wanted to drop off all his armor, and stand naked in the rain?  It's not as though he had never had the experience.  This is not do the blind know they're missing color - it's Beethoven blindly thumping time, doubtless craving the lost connection to music.


I believe Achilles would miss the rain.  I believe once he started to peel his armor off, there would be no stopping, not until every last article was gone.  That could've been well and good for Achilles, had he lived.  There could never be a life unarmored for Achilles.  But can there be for us?  Does the armor ever come off, or does it just get stickered over in likes and lolcats?