My husband finally read ‘some’ of my blog.
I should leave the post at that….he did. For 5 months I have given him access to my diary, my inner thoughts, the voices who scream in my head, and he reads a little then has no comments. Well besides his standard “I think it’s great if it helps you heal.’
How could he read any post and have nothing to say? If I was reading them for the first time I’d have plenty to say. I’d probably be sad and a little mad…I have expressed a desire to beat him with a baseball bat and put him in a cage. Yet he has no comment? How can he read my grief, my frustration, my loudly expressed anger and not want to say something?
I don’t think he visits my blog very often, if ever after his first visit. If it was me? I’d visit every single day, if for no other reason than to see how my mood is, or who is in control of me today? If it’s crazy Kelly I’d put on a helmet if I was him, and walk on tip-toes. Angry Kelly? He might want to stay at his parents, or sleep in his car with the doors locked tight. Sad Kelly? Flowers and coffee with funny movies, and tons of kids over to shake the blues out of my skin. Can you imagine having an almost daily guide to your spouses moods, and needs? So why can’t he embrace it?
Maybe it’s because I’m a woman and I have a want to know personality. I’d read his blog if he had one, and question him on it everyday. I’d goggle words he used to find out if they have special meaning, I’d stalk people who commented on it, I’d have notices sent to my email so I’d know as soon as he wrote a word. Hell who am I kidding? I would figure out his password and read every single draft, ones he posted and ones he’d set aside…I’d want to know everything.
I know my words probably hurt him, and I wish I could feel bad, but I don’t. They hurt me when I write them, yet I write them…so why can’t he put on his big boy undies and read them? I want him to read them and then discuss them with me. I want him to tell me I’m a brilliant writer, or I’m bat shit crazy. I want him to read them and cry or laugh. I want him to ask me about something I wrote, and what he can do to make it better. I want him to realize most people aren’t a virtual open book, and how lucky he is to be able to know what I’m thinking. I’d give anything to know what was in his head, or his heart.
I guess I feel sometimes like I’m on this journey alone… I’m traveling around the world in my blog, and talk to hundreds of strangers a day, yet he won’t come along. Hell he won’t even answer if I call him.
“As long as it’s helping me heal…” I wish it was helping US heal.