This is a pretty PG blog. I might swear at times, because that’s just me – I do in person as well. I might talk about all kinds of aspects of relationships, but it tends to be discreet and not very specific or detailed. Because my kids occasionally tune in to my blog, you are unlikely to read about my intimate, physical relationship with M in any detail (I can already hear the “ooohhhh MOM!” from my son, clear across town). Our views on religion, politics, or other controversial topics of the day are unlikely to be expressed here, because there are a lot of blogs that cover a lot of subjects in depth and I go there when I feeling like debating (almost never happens).
But from my blog list I read and follow a fair number of blogs that deal with a lot of these topics. I am not a betrayed spouse, nor am I an other woman cheating on M. Neither of us are bisexual nor are we sexually adventurous and looking for additional partners to spice up our love life (hear that thump and groan? My son slapping his forehead and muttering “TMI! TMI!”). I am not dating and frequently feel like an absolute Pollyanna reading blogs written by blogger friends who are dating and exploring their sexuality. The reason I follow the blogs I do is because the writer is someone real, whose words or situations or pain has touched me in a real and dramatic way. I frequently feel as if I have NOTHING to offer them by way of encouragement or advice or comments, being happily married and stuff. But they are real. They are expressing something that resonates with me on a some personal level. That’s critical for me to feel connected and compelled and eager to read their posts.
But I read posts and sometimes I so WANT to say something. I want to participate in the discussion and will not, because I have not walked in their shoes, I have been with the same guy for a long time and despite a separation and very brief, uncomfortable, and extraordinarily disappointing attempts at dating during that separation, I feel as if my “skills” and advice are out of step with modern time. This is my issue, of course, and I have to get over it. Maybe. Or not. I suppose my shyness in reticence to speak up is more about sounding dated and dumb and is definitely my fear; no one has ever said “that’s dated and dumb” or “you have no business commenting because you THINK you are happily married” or anything even remotely similar. This is one of those work-in-progress things. Again, I will get there, or not, and it is fine, either way.
Why do I bring this up? Sometimes I feel as if I am self-censoring. It is perhaps the downside of having a blog open enough to M, my kids, my friends. Since I am not on FB or social media this is my best way of “broadcasting” news or thoughts and ideas from me. I have a pretty active email and text and phone relationships with friends far away, but they all know they can check in here with whatever the heck is happening with me/us. But while I am self-censoring, I also feel better about blogging knowing my DH is aware of what I am doing/writing and can cruise by and check in whenever he wishes.
There are moments when I think about a darker side blog, where I can discuss a lot of heavier topics in as vivid detail as I wish. I joke with M that it should be titled “Facets of my fucked-up, short-changed life” and would cover all the dark and twisty spaces I lock away on a day-to-day basis. The times when I ponder it, I wonder what the point is of bringing it up and out of its closet. Would it be helpful for me or anyone else? There is a catharsis in writing, in blogging, in being out here in print, in the light of days, 24/7. I have personal journals through the years, some filled with daily musings, some with months of gaps of blank sheets. I used to never be able to read them, never face who I was and the person I am growing up and into, but now when I go back and read a page or two, I find myself wanting to write more about it, talk to anonymous strangers about the experiences. But I know I cannot and will not do it here. This is for the person I am on a day-to-day basis, our adventures as empty nesters and the challenges we face growing older, as parents of adult children and the slowly changing dynamics of family. I love this place. I love that there is a lot of happy talk, some bitching and complaining, some whining, and a lot of general reporting on the status of our lives. It’s good, it’s safe, it’s NORMAL. I need to protect that.
So while I have my off-limit topics and am sort of self-censoring, it’s for good reasons. And I am sure you do not care whether or not I am discussing my thoughts on those off-limit subjects (well, my family may care … *laugh*). But I was thinking about it tonight and trying to formulate words to comment on a blog post I read earlier started me thinking about this whole blogging process and what it has come to mean to me. It’s all very good.