It started out as a cathartic pouring of my soul. My inner thoughts. My diary. And I enjoy writing, I enjoy telling a story, and some of the things that happened - like with my kids for example - I wanted a way to look back and remember it. My inner workings, I thought I'd look back and appreciate how far I have or haven't come... but I hate much of what I was thinking or feeling and no intention of going back to it. Maybe years down the road, don't know, not sure I care. It's a diary for all a diary is worth.
No sooner did I put the first thing or two on here did I start getting comments. No clue how Bonnie found me in a matter of days. How in the world does she do it? Then I had people reading that stumbled here from her site. And it's all good, really it is.
I thought y'all were this tight knit little group of spankos and DD'ers and masochists of whatever sort and that you somehow all know each other personally. Almost like an exclusive club. One I wasn't welcome in, I'm an outsider and don't meet the requirements for admission.
Can you tell I have lifelong issues with acceptance and fitting in?
But it's not like that. I've found an enormously supportive group of people who I feel really comfortable sharing my innermost thoughts with. People who already understand the weird inner workings of my brain even though they probably cannot fathom why I am most at peace while I'm shoveling horse shit.
And yes that's true. There's no smell other than the glorious smell of the horse's body. Horse poop doesn't stink unlike people, pets, and other farm animals. I'm alone, alone with my thoughts, yet focused on making sure I've got every corner picked out perfectly so it'll be a soft clean bed when they come in. Sometimes I have some company with warm breath on my neck or nibbling on my hair. Whether it's the 1250 lb horse, a a little pipsqueak of a pony or somebody in between, there's no intimidation and a mutual sense of trust and comfort and love. I think it's the combination of a detailed task, a bit of a workout, and being alone to think... it's almost hypnotic and I love it. Yeah, I'm weird, right?
So what I'm getting at, I guess, is it's odd to feel such a connection with a person who doesn't know you and who you don't know in return.
I'm 5'2" and comfortable in my newly slimmed down to size 4 body. I have dark hair midway down my back and I wear size 7 1/2 shoes. My eyes are brown and I'm told they twinkle when I smile. My Italian heritage is evident in my appearance, quite a contrast to the blonde hair and blue eyes I married. Despite growing up in NY and moving here at 19 with a hefty accent, my voice sounds like every bit a Southern lady. I watch too much TV and am the queen of procrastination. I eat Little Debbie honey buns and Lays potato chips together, alternating bites. And I put hot sauce on nearly everything.
Know me now? Nope. I'm still a chickadee, the little bird that earned that nickname eating baby food for the first time.
Do I know you? Nope, you're a flower, a tattoo, a design, a piece of nature, or a tv character... Though I'm giddy that some of you have shared your real name with me. Do I want to meet you? YES! Do I want to physically see you, hug you, laugh and cry with you? YES!
But that's not what this is...
To come full circle back to the point of this endless ramble, I have perhaps gotten too comfortable with the idea of emptying every inner thought in this judgement-free zone of blogland.
I have written previously that I didn't care if hubby found this blog. It's the truth, at least from my point of view. I'd be embarrassed, probably, but more from a viewpoint of being afraid to express my desires. So I thought...
I've been thinking a lot about this lately. I don't want him to see this. He'd be upset that I'm presenting his less-than-positive qualities as his norm, when the norm is truly wonderful and amazing. I think he'd be disappointed that I've shared more intimate things. He would be uncomfortable with mention of the kids, especially identifying things like their ages or hijinks. I think he'd be uneasy learning about my openness here while I'm shut like a clam who is *FINE* at home - even though it "gives him a headache" to talk about stuff I unload here. I know I'd hurt his feelings. I'd hear things like "That's not what I meant and you know it" or "It wasn't really that bad" or "That's totally out of context" Every story is one-sided. Though I make great effort to separate feelings from fact, it's still one-sided.
A diary - yes, that would be okay. All diaries are supposed to be one sided expressions of one's mind. Anybody who opens the diary of another is subject to harsh things on the pages. You'd know that going into it, and it was your conscious decision to snoop or be respectful.
That what hubby thinks this is. Just a dairy.
Problem is that it's taken on a life of its own. Not so much this blog itself, but in the connection I'm feeling with y'all. I feel like this has become a part of me. I have a deep wish for good to come for every one of you and I feel your pain when things aren't so good. Maybe I'm just too sensitive, but I cry actual tears from some of what I read. Though I'm not commenting most the time, I feel like something is missing if I go to bed without having peeked at your blogs.
I've let you become a part of my life. I like you here.
I feel horrible for keeping this thing that is now part of my life a secret from the person I love most. I cannot do this anymore without telling him what I've done -not that it's wrong, he just needs to know. I have fears of him finding out years down the road and can only imagine the hurt he'd feel. To find out I essentially had a secret life from him.
So I'm going to share it. Not only the blog itself, but also what it means to me. This IS my emotional support system right now. It's not my only venting source, but it is THE place that I can truly express the root of what's going on and how I want to fix it. Honesty is extremely important to both of us. While I'm not outwardly lying to him, the omission of fact is essentially a lie.
This leaves me with a dilemma. I've said things that I would never dream of telling a person in real life. I've placed myself in a difficult position by the evolution of this diary-turned-support system. Even without any aspect of DD in our lives, I truly think he'd contemplate tearing my ass up if he heard (read) the way I'm speaking (writing) - both in the crassness of my words and the things I'm sharing. It's not like I'm having an emotional affair or anything. But it's become a secret part of my life.
I want this to be a comfort zone, a place where I can continue to unload. I also doubt he'd visit often, if at all. As it is now, it's pretty much like being eavesdropped on during a girls' night out. Only somebody (me, grrrr) was laying out the transcripts for him to peruse at his leisure.
I am just now left wondering if I should just go ahead and delete every post and start from scratch. Use this place going forward as a place that I can still express myself fully, while being more respectful to myself and my family.
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Posted by: Tukiyooo
Feeling Guilty (plus lots of random rambling) Updated at :
9:11 AM
Friday, May 31, 2013
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