My 50th Post is an auspicious occasion for me. One might readily think that my excitement would be bubbling over into my conversations with my husband Jay.
“Honey, this is my 50th post, can you believe it?!” I would say.
He would be pleased right along with me. He would be proud with me. He would think about my dedication to writing. He would think about the excitement I feel when describing those small moments in a welcoming forum. He would know how writing helps me focus on the moments of joy, rather than those moments of frustration. He would know all of this.
He should know all of that, shouldn’t he?
He doesn’t. He should. I haven’t told him. He didn’t ask.
It is shameful and I feel it.
He knows I write. I have allowed him to continue thinking that I write completely privately. He may suspect otherwise. He may simply trust me.
Don’t accidentally think that I am feeling remorseful, apologetic. I would not call it that. I am neither willing to accept blame nor willing to attach such a label to another. This is not about blame.
This is more about being married.
Although Emama’s life is not exactly my life, my little secret has turned into something that I truly enjoy. All these years of never even starting a baby book, and now I have great stories I can share with my children. Could I keep this all in a private journal and give up the blog? The answer is simply no. My journal doesn’t give me a little “thumbs up.” It doesn’t give me that little “yes, I was there too” that keeps me going. My journal didn’t miss me when I was away.
I promised myself I would think about this very seriously in San Francisco. I thought it was possible, a few weeks ago anyway, that I would come back and say ‘goodbye’ to my virtual community. I would go private again, just like my husband suggested.
“Why can’t you just write these stories for yourself and our children?” He asked that, lovingly, not angrily, lovingly.
“I don’t know if you are a good writer, honey, but it is a sweet story.”
That’s what he said when I let him read one. Sweet. He meant it as a compliment. I took it like the pat on the head you give to a little girl. He has probably only read two of my posts. Not on-line mind you, I printed them out. He doesn’t know about Enthalpymama.
I need to let him read this: not because he “deserves” to read them, not because I feel terribly remorseful. I want him to be a part of ALL of my life.
I just love him.
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