When I was in college, I played the part of Mary Lennox in The Secret Garden. I was finally the "lead" in a play. It is ironic to me now. I was the lead character who had to get in the garden and beautify it and keep it a secret. It was hers. She only shared it with her cousin.
The secret garden gave her a place to hide and a sense of comfort where she could be alone. Secrets have always made me feel "comfortable". Probably because my mom taught me to live by "what he/she doesn't know won't hurt them". I do not blame her. My mother is a wonderful mother who came from a poor family of alcoholics. That was her survival technique.
I have come to realize this does not work for me. Even though I got a sense of comfort from my affair (my secret garden), I didn't like turning my back on God and "hiding". My affair bubble was my secret garden. It began as something so ugly and dead then came alive and was beautiful. This "beauty", however, was hidden behind lock and key. If something is truly beautiful, do we not want everyone to see it? If affair love is real then why is it hidden in a secret garden that grew from ugliness? If we do not continue to water it, it will die. I will no longer water my secret garden. I need to walk out out of it, lock the door, throw away the key, and never go back. I need to find beauty in God and the real world. What do you do to escape? Is it a "healthy" escape?
For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light.