The Hidden Labor of Living a Double Life: When Secrecy is Taken to the Grave

“I didn’t believe people could know and still treat me the same.”

For Stacey, secrecy wasn’t just a choice; it was a conclusion she reached early and never really revisited. The fear of being found out, she says, never fully went away. It lived quietly in the background of her relationships, her work, and her sense of who she was allowed to be.

“I’m taking that to the grave,” she says. “Nobody ever knew. Nothing.”

Stacey was 19 years old when she first entered the adult industry. She had answered a newspaper ad for a high-paid receptionist position at an exclusive club. When she arrived, she learned what the job actually entailed: providing sensual massage. Her initial reaction was immediate and firm: absolutely not. And then she learned how much money she could make.

For a young woman just beginning to navigate adulthood, the financial promise was difficult to ignore. Stacey took the job. What she initially believed would be temporary became something she returned to on and off for nearly twenty years.

As a therapist in private practice - and as someone who has navigated secrecy in my own life - I work with women in the adult industry as well as women living other forms of double lives. That secrecy may be tied to work, an affair, or another hidden part of their world, but the emotional burden of carrying it alone is often strikingly similar. What I hear most often isn’t shame; it’s exhaustion.

Now in her late 40s, Stacey lives in Manhattan. She holds a bachelor’s degree and spent years working toward a master’s in education - an effort she was forced to pause when money ran out. When she describes herself, she does so with clarity and self-regard. “I feel like I’m a very intelligent, pretty fucking sexy, funny, intuitive, analytical human being,” she says. “Caring.”

On the outside, Stacey’s life appeared ordinary. On the inside, it required constant management. During one relationship, she told her partner she worked at a hair salon. “I had to lie,” she says plainly. The story gave her something to offer when questions came - where she was going, why her schedule changed, how she paid her bills. The lie wasn’t elaborate. It just had to hold.

What Stacey understood intuitively was this: disclosure felt riskier than silence. She didn’t believe people could know the truth about her work and still see her the same way. So she chose secrecy, again and again - not because it was easy, but because it felt safer.

Secrecy demands vigilance. It requires tracking what you’ve said to whom, anticipating questions before they’re asked, and editing yourself in relationships that are supposed to offer relief. Over time, that vigilance becomes embodied. The nervous system stays on alert. Rest becomes difficult. Isolation deepens.

Research in psychology shows that secrecy isn’t just private - it has measurable effects on well-being and relationships. Studies suggest people often keep adverse information to themselves because they overestimate the negative judgment they will receive if they disclose, even though others are often more understanding than expected (Deri, Davidai, & Gilovich, 2023). Other research on everyday secrecy links long-term concealment to increased anxiety, loneliness, and lower relationship satisfaction, particularly when the burden of the secret is carried alone (Slepian, Chun, & Mason, 2017; Slepian, 2022). Stacey’s belief that disclosure would permanently change how she was seen reflects what research consistently shows: secrecy is often maintained not because judgment has already happened, but because the anticipated cost of being known feels too high to risk.

When people believe that revealing the truth will fundamentally alter how they are perceived, secrecy can become a long-term survival strategy. Over time, however, carrying unshared truths often leads to chronic stress, emotional fatigue, and a quiet grief for the parts of oneself that never get to be known.

Right now, Stacey’s life feels especially fragile. She hasn’t been able to work for some time due to a physical injury. She describes herself as broke. She owes thousands of dollars in back rent and fears eviction. The future feels hard to imagine when the present is so uncertain.

Her hopes, then, are modest - and deeply human.

“Well, if I could finish my master’s,” she says, before quickly adding, “which is not going to happen, because I have no money.” She pauses. “I would go back to teaching. But right now, I’m just a bartender, server, whatever.”

When asked what she wants most, her answer is simple.

“I want peace.”

Not resolution. Not redemption. Just peace.

What Stacey’s story reveals is how secrecy can quietly narrow a person’s world. Over time, relationships fall away. Estrangement grows. Stacey is currently not speaking with her mother. Her relationship with her grown son is strained. She hasn’t dated in two years. Isolation isn’t something she consciously chose; it’s something that accumulated.

The problem isn’t secrecy itself. For many women, secrecy is a rational response to real risks. The problem is when secrecy becomes total - when there is no place, no relationship, and no moment where the truth can rest without consequence.

Here are three ways women like Stacey can begin to loosen the grip of secrecy:

• Build community
  Isolation intensifies suffering. Even low-stakes connections - support groups, community spaces, shared activities - can begin to restore a sense of belonging.

• Seek local resources
  When financial stress is acute, accessing practical support matters. Housing assistance, medical care, and community-based services can help stabilize the present enough to imagine a future.

• Spend time with friends
  Safe companionship doesn’t require full disclosure. Being with someone who offers warmth, humor, or simple presence can interrupt the loneliness secrecy creates.

Breaking silence doesn’t mean telling everyone everything. It means choosing where honesty is safe - or, at the very least, choosing not to be entirely alone.

Some details have been changed to protect the confidentiality of the interviewee.

References

• Deri, S., Davidai, S., & Gilovich, T. (2023). People overestimate how negatively others will judge them for revealing secrets. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology.

• Slepian, M. L., Chun, J. S., & Mason, M. F. (2017). The experience of secrecy. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 113(1), 1–33.

• Slepian, M. L. (2022). The psychology of secrets. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 31(2), 132–138.