I have received a couple of comments on this post and just feel like I need to say more.
Why didn’t I tell DH at the outset what I was doing? Two reasons: 1. I am a little apprehensive about what his response might be to some of what I’ve written (although I do think that overall it has been positive); and 2. He just won’t get it.
1. I love my husband (I think that’s come through very clear), but we are very different in quite a few ways and these differences have, in the past, led to some major, relationship threatening, misunderstandings. I find that I can say something, meaning ‘a’ to me, and DH hears ‘1’ and gets all worked up, becoming very accusatory and offensive. I, of course, take this all personally, and usually end of crying and at a loss because I’ve done nothing to warrant the accusations. We’ve discovered that taking the time to write down what we are thinking and feeling, generally in emails, helps us communicate much better than we do face-to-face. The writing, I believe, gives us each a chance to really think about what we’re feeling/thinking/meaning as well as a chance to write it out as clearly as possible, and then gives us the time to ponder our response.
Based on this background, obviously I would have concerns that he might read one small piece of one post and get all worked up, without bothering to go further and put it all in the context of the entire blog. However, if he really wants to read what I write, I have no problem providing him with the address, etc. so that he can do so. I would just have to be ready to face whatever his reading stirs up. (Forewarned is forearmed).
Also, DH goes back and forth on the whole spanking thing. He gives the attitude that it’s not his thing, that he’s only doing it for me, and that I am way too obsessed with it, but when I push him a bit, he will confide that he does enjoy spanking me and that he finds it very exciting. Given his inner conflict and discomfort about all things spanking, he might not be so thrilled to find me relating our experiences in explicit detail.
2. DH is neither a reader nor a writer. I don’t think in all our years together that I have ever seen him read a novel (he’s says he did when he was younger, but I don’t have any evidence to support this). He rarely even reads for what might be termed ‘fun’ – not related to work or school, but something he’s interested in. He gets a few magazines on various topics, and seems to read some of them. The last book that he just read was non-fiction about health.
Since reading and writing are not things he enjoys, he really cannot understand my need to do these things. I am a voracious reader – sci-fi, fantasy, contemporary, historical, adventure, fiction, non-fiction, magazines – pretty much anything I can get my hands on (as proven by the overflowing shelves and teetering piles in our bedroom). And, I think, for some people, writing just goes hand in hand with reading. I have stories and poems that I have written starting in elementary school. I never had any issues with writing all through school, whether it was fiction or non-fiction reports – and generally received good marks for whatever I wrote. And today, beyond, the blogs, I am still jotting down poetry, images, and stories that pop into my head.
I listen to a lot of music and have found some lyrics that describe this need to write, for me anyway:
o Fidelity by Regina Spektor –
I hear in my mind all these voices, I hear in my mind all these words [Kinda make me sound psychotic :P]
o Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield – pretty much the whole song; I know it’s about life not being predetermined and making your own choices. But it describes the general practice of writing so well – pen in hand, blank page, not being able to find the words, reaching for something in the distance, no one else can do it for me, etc.
o Breathe (2 AM) by Anna Nalick –
It’s 2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a song/If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me,/Threatening the life it belongs toI’m sure I could come up with others, given the time.
To finish up I’m going to share a ‘funny’ but true story about a ‘story’ I did write that DH saw.Quite a long while ago, I had written a ‘story’ about a man and a woman in a hotel room, post-disciplinary spanking. Not being comfortable with others reading my writing (or really even having anyone to share with), this story was tucked away in a pile of other papers and magazines. Somehow, this one particular pad of paper ended up in the middle of our bed (I didn’t put it there, it wasn’t there when I left for work – and I was last out of the house that morning, and DH was first home – mystery) and of course, DH just had to pick it up and start reading. He got the absurd idea that this was my way of telling him I was having an affair. It took an incredible amount of talking on my part (trying not to snicker and snort at the ridiculousness) to get him to understand that it was just a story – nothing more, nothing less. And that I write all the time, about all sorts of things.
So, DH knows that I read and write, but he doesn’t understand my need, and the blogging falls right into this inability to understand. I am no longer hiding that I blog, and I share information about comments, other blogs I read, data from StatCounter, etc. And that seems to be all DH needs – for now, at least.
