Disclosure happens in a lot of different ways. Disclosure isn’t just the information that we share, but the entire process surrounding a communication exchange. That word, exchange, is critical when it comes to how we view disclosure in social fields, in particular where lived-living experiences are discussed, shared, or even thrust upon others. Disclosure shouldn’t be viewed as one side of an interaction, but a full engagement between anyone who is participating communicatively, whether they are active or passive.

Organisationally, there should be disclosure practices that are acceptable, ethical, and encouraged but not required. Especially for groups or organizations that center around lived-living experiences, which most do at this point across countless fields. It’s important for us to understand how disclosure intersects with lived-living experiences and the dynamic nature of this “exchange” that takes place within the process.

If we look at the context of an experience, especially what we often qualify as a “lived experience,” there are things that you may never want to share with anyone because they are attached to other individuals, or there are details around that particular information that could cause harm. Whether it be to yourself or to someone else. Within the context of the disclosure process itself, maybe I get to know you, or am trying to get to know you, and we’re working in this space, and I share a personal experience, and you then share as well, and now we have a deeper connection. We do this all the time in the work. We know shared experiences deepen relationships, and we know shared understanding that stems from similar individual experiences can quicken the trust-building process. There is a definitive power that lives in the disclosure process, but that power happens when there is a shared mutuality and level of consent that we don’t often ask for or recognize, taking place subliminally.

There are all sorts of layers to disclosure, and storytelling exists in one of these layers. In fact, storytelling is often confused with disclosure and has become its own practice, whether well understood or not. In my opinion, the ideal storyteller is an ideal speaker. Exemplary storytellers understand healthy disclosure. They understand what that looks like, and there’s a lot of intention and thought behind that before they share personal information. They cultivate captivating stories that draw an audience in, keep them enthralled, and lead them exactly where they want them to go. They weave you into their words and evoke emotion without revealing every emotion, thought, or second of an incident. They know what to edit out, what to reveal, and when to do what is best needed to make their points.

While storytelling is a craft built from disclosure, disclosure is not often discussed, boundaried, or even held to best practice standards. Which is gravely unfortunate given we do it every moment of our days. In working or public spaces, we begin new interactions by disclosing. We greet strangers and new colleagues immediately. For the most part, we have a socially acceptable way of professionally interacting for the first time, but we all know that when it comes to lived experience, an initial interaction can be unpredictable, overinformative, and even awkward. This is because we don’t practice trauma-informed disclosure. We simply share what we feel in the moment, without consideration of the other.

It is through the process of processing, of healing, of looking back retroactively, or of navigating systems or whatever it might be, and that’s where the true value is in that lived experience, not necessarily in the thing that we had zero control over.

A best practice introduction means not starting a meeting by giving us their detailed background about the terrible thing that happened to them. As we get to know one another, we may share this information because trust has developed. Trust comes from understanding what is helpful to someone and what they might invite while also learning what isn’t helpful or what they might not like. This consideration should be a standard practice, because we always want to lead with consent, and by doing that, we are demonstrating that the expertise that stems from being a person with lived-living experience actually lives beyond the experience itself. It lives in the after, in the now, and comes from the process of learning and reflecting.

Sometimes we see disclosure that is unrestrained, and everyone in this field has seen someone who was emotionally dysregulated when they were sharing; we all felt something because of that. Whether it was concern or uncertainty. There are a lot of things that happen when you’re sitting in a room, and there’s a speaker who seems to be visibly upset. But what often isn’t understood is the repercussions of that for that person afterward. We know that oversharing can make others re-experience trauma, but we still don’t even know exactly what overdisclosing does to the person who shares. Oversharing isn’t caring. It is dysregulation disguised as a handful of things, none of which are necessarily helpful.

We don’t want to put someone in a situation where we might unintentionally harm them, so there should be protocols that we have when we’re having conversations that could involve our lived-living experiences.

Consider what a healthy level of disclosure is.

What do we actually need from folks? What are we asking for? And how do we model healthy, positive disclosure within that context?

To help you as you build what’s best for you, I’ve developed a simple brief that outlines some Safe Introduction tips.

Special thanks to Colleen Sulaitis for editing this brief for me and for her willingness to think on things alongside me.