Dear Margo: I am riddled with guilt, though I’m not sure if I should feel this way. Recently, one of my best friends found out she’s pregnant and informed only a handful of people. She plans to have the baby, give it up for adoption to a loving family, and as far as I know, inform no one else of what has occurred. While I feel honored that she chose me as one of the few to know what’s going on, some other members in our group have been concerned about her and constantly ask me questions. It really is more than just morbid curiosity; they’re deeply worried about her and want to know why she’s dropped off the face of the earth. So without completely giving away her secret, I provided a few clues that would allow some of our friends to figure things out. I now feel terrible because I have no idea if I’ve done the right thing. My thinking was that if our other friends knew, they would be more understanding and provide positive support. What do you think? — Guilty Party?
Dear Guilt: I am a pragmatist. You have already let the cat out of the bag, and your motives were honorable. What I would do now is tell this handful of people that you fear you have breached a confidence and you’re counting on them to act with discretion. Suggest that they be supportive without revealing what they know. There is a good chance that the friend with the secret may tell some of these people as things progress. — Margo, remedially
Some things are worth a second try
Dear Margo: I grew up in the rural portion of a southern state. I always knew I was gay, but I tried hard not to be for many years, which resulted in a failed marriage to a woman and more self-hatred and heartache than I care to remember. A few years ago, I decided to stop living a lie and I came out, met an amazing partner and relocated to Massachusetts, where we were married. I’m happy to report that my ex-wife and I are even closer friends than we ever were before (which I realize makes me a very lucky man). Before I made my great escape, there was an ugly incident from which I am still trying to recover. The last time I saw my grandmother, she didn’t hug me back when I greeted her. Someone had outed me to her, and my father’s sister, who still lives at home, informed me that I was no longer welcome there. My grandmother, who I’d always thought of as wise and loving, just sat by and watched her daughter make “the hit.” That was nearly three years ago, but I still find myself reliving that crushing moment. Here’s what I’m wrestling with at the moment: My grandmother is not well. I know I can forgive, in time, and that it would behoove me to do just that, but re-establishing communication is a separate issue. Part of me feels I will regret it if I don’t call her, but the other part of me is painfully aware that phone lines run in both directions and that I didn’t do anything wrong. I worry that calling would mean pretending that nothing happened. Any thoughts? — Trying To Do the Right Thing
Dear Try: Calling in no way means pretending nothing happened; it is just a call. Because your grandmother is not well, you might say you wanted to let her know you are sorry her health is failing. If she freezes you out, you will still have done the right thing: You will have tried to let her make things right. Three years is a long time, so it’s definitely worth a try. With luck, your aunt will not be part of the conversation, and it’s my guess she was the judgmental one. — Margo, hopefully
Dear Margo is written by Margo Howard, Ann Landers’ daughter. All letters must be sent via e-mail to dearmargo@creators.com. Due to a high volume of e-mail, not all letters will be answered.
