LAYLA:
I didn’t identify with this chapter as strongly as some of the others, maybe because, as mentioned in the “Honesty” blog post, I don’t tend to lie often. As a result, I haven’t had any major secrets that called for a moment of Confession.
That said, the idea that Confession risks isolation made me reflect on how much this depends on your relationship with yourself and others. If you’re at ease in your own company, the fear of being shunned feels less overwhelming. It also helps if you have strong, supportive relationships- you’re more likely to trust that the people you love will stick around even when things are difficult.
For me, the more relevant version of Confession is internal. There have been uncomfortable truths I’ve had to admit to myself in order to accept my shadow side. That process is certainly not easy, but it feels essential- almost a private form of the “first step home” the chapter describes.
What I found myself questioning though, is whether confession is always the right course of action. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more discerning about what I choose to share. If I feel the urge to “get something off my chest,” I pause and ask whether it’s something I can work through on my own. Confession can be selfish- lifting a weight from yourself while placing it onto someone else.
There’s a balance to be struck. For those who lean towards bluntness (myself included), it’s worth pausing to ask: does this need to be said, and who does it serve? But for those who tend to hold things in and prioritise others, the opposite may be true: if it’s building up, it’s better to let it out…

PATRIZIA:
Confessions should come after an internal trial that returns a guilty verdict and a sentence that requires facing the consequences in full and, when necessary, voicing a humbling cry for help. That is why confessions are meaningful only when there is time and determination to put things right.
And although confessions require some degree of courage, at their core, I see them as basic acts of self-preservation. The protracted sense of guilt, lies, secrecy, and identity dissonance become, in the presence of a conscience, ravaging forces that lead to isolation, aggression, addiction, self-deprecation and depression.
Freedom from this prison invariably comes at a cost. Confessing to ourselves may allow us to embrace change, but the perpetration of secrecy and lies will keep punishing our soul. Confessing to others may put an end to the lies but exposes us to the scorn of those we wronged, and the risk of losing them forever.
My confessions have always been accompanied by feelings of fear and hope: fear of being permanently stained by my wrongdoing in the eyes of others and hope of being given a chance to prove my remorse and commitment to change.
In my teenage years, I mostly told lies to do what I wanted despite my parents’ rules. Now, as an adult, telling the truth comes more easily. It’s not only a matter of integrity- over time I’ve come to realise that none of us can cast the first stone, and so I’ve built my life on a simple principle: do not do to others what you would not want done to yourself.

BRUNELLA:
Confession is a brave and liberating choice after an act of self-examination. As Whyte says, “is a stripping away of protection,” and it is frightening because “the old identity the secret was protecting almost never survives the revelation.” This is why confession is often easier on one’s deathbed.

We all have secrets, and we are all flawed. The list of human failings is long: lies, weaknesses, wrongs done to others, moral shortcomings, misguided behaviours and attitudes. The Church classifies sins as mortal and venial, and absolution requires repentance. Sin is also followed by punishment.

I have to admit that I do not go to confession, as it is not something I am comfortable with. I am very private, I value intimacy and dislike exposing myself in that way. I believe in my own ability to control and reflect on myself, without needing external authority. I know how to question and judge my own actions quite harshly. I am often very hard on myself, feel remorse deeply and promise myself not to repeat the same mistakes.

I do not believe in confession or the forgiveness of sins by third parties. I am introverted, but not “closed off,” so I am able to confide quite easily in people I respect and trust.