As I looked out the window of my dad’s vintage green 1971 Camaro, I was amazed by what I saw. My grandfather’s old wooden porch no longer looked dull and faded, with gray paint peeling off. One word came to mind – RAINBOW! The railings were painted yellow and blue, and the stairs were in alternating colors—red, white, and green.

Back then, I was seven years old, and even though the porch didn’t show an actual rainbow — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple – it was still a rainbow to me. The porch looked as if a child had gotten into some paint and gone on a spree. It had no boring adult rules for paint. No colors matched; instead, they swirled around each other. They blended under the sun’s heat.

My grandfather’s house resembled a circus. Before today, I had always seen him as a stern, serious man, but the “rainbow porch” transformed him into the ringleader of this colorful spectacle. “Dad, isn’t it just so… magical?” I exclaimed, but my dad shook his head, clearly displeased with what he saw. I jumped out of the car, and as I approached the vibrant porch, I felt like Dorothy from *The Wizard of Oz*. However, instead of following the yellow brick road, I had a rainbow porch guiding me toward a fun-filled day with my cousins. We loved playing hide-and-seek in my grandfather’s house because there were countless places to hide.

My grandfather owned an old, dilapidated row house. It was narrow but exceptionally long, with four floors. I especially remember the attic dormer where my grandmother stayed. It was by far the nicest room in the house. She was the queen, and that was her tower. It honestly looked like a cozy cottage straight out of a fairy tale.

Whenever I think of my grandfather’s house, the “rainbow porch” always comes to mind. It symbolized a moment of happiness in my life, but I now realize that the rainbow porch was merely an illusion.

Pain Behind the Paint

When I was a teenager, I asked my dad about the “rainbow” porch. I discovered that my grandfather had painted the porch in bright colors because he collected used paint with his friend, who was a garbage collector, and couldn’t afford to buy regular paint. The carefree, child-like paint job was probably done while enjoying a few too many beers. Despite the house’s colorful, lively, and cheerful rainbow porch, the walls would tell a different story: one of emotional and physical abuse at the hands of my alcoholic grandfather.

Before I entered the picture, there was a time in my grandfather’s life when he brutally hurt his family, including my dad. Some of these wounds are still very real today, and some have not been forgiven, even though he passed away over 30 years ago.

The house I once played hide-and-seek in was hiding its own secrets.  I now understand why my grandmother slept separately from my grandfather: she would hide in her attic dormer with a lock on the door and sometimes spend months in Puerto Rico away from her family.

My father had to endure abuse from the man who was supposed to love and protect him. Until one day, he became strong enough to say, ‘Enough is enough,’ and to threaten his father, which has its own ramifications of trauma.

Families often keep secrets—unspoken stories, hidden memories, and truths shared only in quiet moments. Addiction and abuse are among the most common secrets families hide. The suffering isn’t just limited to the person struggling with substances or the physical and emotional abuse one has to endure; the silence itself becomes a form of addiction. We hide the pain by masking it with phrases like “everything’s fine” and acting as if we can handle it alone. But secrets build walls in relationships, teach children what not to talk about, and pass down patterns of shame through generations.

Why Therapy?

When we ignore what exists, it doesn’t disappear; instead, it grows in the dark, like a closet that no one wants to open. For many people, therapy becomes the first place where these hidden secrets can be spoken aloud. While treatment doesn’t erase the past, it offers a safe space for sharing experiences that have long been kept silent. It creates a place where the shame and anger from addiction and abuse, along with the grief of what has been lost, can finally be acknowledged.

Addiction thrives in isolation, whereas healing thrives in connection. This is why therapy is so essential. It offers tools for processing trauma, breaking unhealthy cycles, and fostering healthier coping mechanisms. It also helps family members understand their own roles—be it enabling, denial, or silence—and how they too can heal.

Talking about family secrets can be intimidating, but it can also free us and erase the lies and labels unfairly placed on us. When we speak the truth, we create space for honesty, understanding, and healing. Therapy not only helps individuals recover from addiction or heal from abuse; it also enables families to rebuild trust, find their voices, and create a new future.

Looking back, I realize how much effort my dad put into revealing his family secret, and I am grateful that, although my childhood involved some emotional and physical abuse (not comparable to my dad’s upbringing), I’ve learned to create a better home for my own children—flawed but definitely improved—and I hope that my children and their descendants will keep striving to do better. Healing starts with us, and it’s a gift that truly keeps giving.

If you are interested in therapy, we would be happy to connect with you at Optimum Joy. Remember, you don’t need to hide anymore; healing thrives in connection, so don’t hesitate to reach out today!