I have a Sunday morning ritual.
I get up around 6am.
I make coffee, I sit, tidy my emails, sort my images for the blog for the week ahead, with a little BBC Breakfast in the background.
And then I read Post Secret.
Post Secret started as a community project, an address where people could write their secrets, unburden their hearts on the back of a post card and send it anonymously, for it to be shared. It’s curator, Frank, didn’t dream it would turn into the worldwide phenomenon it has, spawning books, conferences, tweets, and my personal weakness, the Sunday online update.
It’s a fascinating combination of inspiration, sadness, silly, shocking, gross and beautiful. Every week there’s another one that will make me giggle, one that will surprise me, one that will strike a chord and bring a tear to my eye.
Everything is shared without judgement, with love, with a knowledge that we all hold secrets in our hearts and we can relieve a little pressure, or offer a little help, if only we shared them.
There are even tales of those who have shared when desperate, and found help and a way through.
If you can’t tell your family, can’t tell your friends, you can always tell Post Secret.