Why Keeping Some Things Private Is Healthy in Romantic Relationships

Issue 151. January 23, 2026 ✨ Higher Power Coaching & Consulting ✨

I once had a conversation with a sponsee who was sitting with a knot in her stomach. That conversation has stuck with me for years, and I’ve used it in coaching sessions with my clients.

She’d gifted a significant amount of money to one of her adult children. Her older child had always been financially independent. Paid their own way through college. Came up with their own down payment. Never needed rescuing.

Her younger child had a very different history, including mental health issues. Over the years, my sponsee spent a lot of money getting the younger child out of trouble. Bailing them out. Saving them. Trying to help.

What she was worried about wasn’t the money itself.

It was this question: What happens if my younger child finds out I gifted the money to their sibling?

That question opened the door to a conversation that feels especially important when we’re talking about romantic relationships too. The difference between privacy and secrecy.

At first glance, they can look the same. Both involve not telling someone everything. But emotionally, they come from very different places.

Secrecy is usually driven by shame.
I can’t let them know this because of what they might think about me.
If they knew, I’d feel exposed, judged, or small.

Privacy, on the other hand, is about boundaries.
This is personal. This belongs to me. I get to decide who knows and who doesn’t.

That distinction was hard for my sponsee to grasp, not because she wasn’t bright, but because she was still learning how to have healthy boundaries. When boundaries are shaky, everything starts to feel like it has to be explained or justified.

It was genuinely new information for her that her personal finances are nobody’s business but her own. Not even her children’s.

The same principle applies in romantic relationships, and this is where so many people get tangled up.

Your thoughts, your feelings, your history, your money, your inner process. Those are not automatically shared property just because you love someone. Even in committed relationships, there are things that are shared and things that remain personal. Deciding which is which is part of having a grown up relationship.

In my sponsee’s case, there were several boundaries at play.

Her financial decisions were private.
Her relationship with each child was none of the other child’s business.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t fully understood that yet. When she gave the gift to the older child, she explained herself. She told them how much money she’d spent on the other child over the years and framed the gift as balancing the scales.

That information was private. And once it’s shared, you can’t unshare it.

So when she asked me again, “What if my younger child finds out?” the answer wasn’t about controlling their reaction. It was about her own clarity.

If she truly believed that her finances were private, she’d have choices.

She could say, “That’s personal, and I’m not going to discuss it.”

Or, “I’m not comfortable explaining my financial decisions.”

Or, if she chose to, she could explain. But the key word there is choose.

Choice is everything when it comes to boundaries.

We get to decide what we share and what we don’t. Some people are very open about their finances, their past, their inner lives. Others are more contained. Neither is right or wrong. What matters is why you’re sharing or not sharing.

If you’re holding something back because you’re afraid of being judged, that’s secrecy and it usually comes with shame.

If you’re holding something back because it feels personal and you want to protect your sense of safety, that’s privacy.

This shows up constantly in romantic relationships.

People overshare as a way to create closeness. I used to do this. I thought being an open book was intimacy. Looking back, I can see that I shared plenty of information that made me look vulnerable on the surface, stories that could affect my reputation. But I avoided sharing what actually made me emotionally vulnerable. My fears. My needs. My uncertainty.

That kind of oversharing isn’t intimacy. It’s a strategy. A way of trying to bond without really risking being seen.

True intimacy grows when we’re honest with ourselves first. When we know what’s ours to hold, what we want to share, and what we’re not ready or willing to share yet.

Our boundaries also change over time. Early in life, many of us feel ashamed of our financial struggles, our relationship history, our mistakes. Later, after we’ve learned and grown, we may choose to share those same stories to be helpful to someone else.

I’m a perfect example of that.

In 1999, when my student loans came due and I was drowning in credit card debt, I declared bankruptcy. At the time, I was deeply ashamed. I told almost no one. I thought it meant I’d failed as an adult.

What I understand now is that I never learned how to manage money. That’s what got me there. No one taught me about credit cards, compound interest, paying yourself first, etc.

I educated myself. I took responsibility. I changed my behavior. Nine years later, I bought a home.

Today, I can share that story without shame. Not because it was easy, but because I grew from it. When I tell it now, it gives people hope. It reminds them that a messy chapter doesn’t define the whole book. Or as Melody Beattie says, a TV show shouldn’t be judged by a clip in the middle, or a tapestry by the first few stitches.

That’s maturity. That’s recovery. Learning, unlearning, and choosing differently.

And it’s also the heart of healthy romantic relationships. Knowing the difference between what you’re hiding because you’re ashamed and what you’re holding because it’s yours.

If this distinction between privacy and secrecy feels clarifying, I’m glad. It was for me too.

And if there’s someone in your life — a partner, a friend, maybe even yourself — who could use that clarity, I hope you’ll first sit with it yourself, and then share it if it feels right.