This is going to be my last post about my own relationship for a while. I'm sure I'll write about it again eventually. But for a while, I'm giving that part of this blog a rest.
I'd been wondering over the last few months whether or not writing about what was in my head was a good idea, especially when it concerned Daddy and me. And while I've hoped that by giving voice to my own confusion it would help me look at things differently (and maybe figure things out), I find that it's done more harm than good. I find myself looking through blog posts and wondering if I am, in fact, "doing it wrong". And, I daresay, after reading some of my posts, I'm almost positive that Daddy is asking himself the same question.
Unintended consequences aren't always fun.
I've relied on this blog as sort of a brain dump. Trying to clarify thoughts that occur to me from snippets of conversation, funny things that happen, my opinion of random events that somehow get meshed together, small events in a day filled with many of them, and the things that don't seem to be working as well as I think they should. I'm beginning to focus on how those things make me feel, while all too often forgetting that he might feel something different when reading them. In my selfishness when writing some of these posts, I'd forgotten that Daddy also reads them. And he reads them with a different point of view. He reads them not to see what's going on in my head, but rather how my poor words somehow try to explain how my head views him. It's fair, I suppose, but not altogether an accurate depiction. And rather than viewing them as random thoughts that I need to work through, I'm sorely afraid that he's viewing those thoughts as the only ones that matter.
I hope that he knows that stray thoughts, based on random bits of conversation, things he's said that have unleashed capricious thoughts in my brain, and even things that have occurred in my own past often hold little truth in how I feel as a whole. About him. About us.
It's difficult living with someone who is so attuned to my moods that I sometimes find it difficult to just let myself just feel sad. Certainly there are times when I can't hide it and inevitably it leads to me just wanting to wallow in my sadness for a bit. And with him wondering if he's done something to cause it. How do you explain to someone you love that feeling happy, without the permission to feel sad sometimes, makes the happiness less than noticeable? It wears on me, to constantly try to look chipper so that I don't have to answer the questions. The ones that I can't answer truthfully without having the focus go back on him? The questions about how I'm feeling, what's wrong, is there anything I can do?
So to wallow in those sad feelings, the uncertainty, the fears, the questions, I've always kept a journal. Never to be read by anyone but myself. I think I made a mistake by putting much of what I'd normally write there on this blog. And I think I made a mistake in letting Daddy read it. I'm not sure why I did it. I've never let anyone read my confusion before. But then, I've never met anyone like Daddy before either.
So for a while, I'm going back to keeping my thoughts to myself and my confusion on paper. Where I know that confusion doesn't mean anything except jumbled thoughts, and finding a way to organize the chaos is the only way to clarity. And if he wants to know what's going on in my head, he'll have to listen to my heart to hear my thoughts, question me about what's there, and not read what my damned fingers think.