I Blog For...

Who do you blog for? Who do you hope reads what you so carefully (or NOT so carefully) write each time you post?

Or better yet, here’s another question – who do you hope DOESN’T read what you write?

Do you censor yourself knowing that someone may read something they don’t like?

I blog for myself and whomever happens to find and read what I choose to write. I don’t censor, I write what I’m thinking as I think it. With a little creativity.

My fiancé reads my blog. In itself, that’s not a bad thing. Really, it’s not. We’ve been together 9 years and he should pretty much know what to expect at this point, right? As should I know what to expect from him. You’d think.

So why does it upset me when he (sometimes) comments unfavorably on the content of my posts?

Case in point: There was a line in my last entry where I said that the kids and I were tight, and it had been just the 3 of us through the hardest parts of our lives. The next line said “Well, add Bill too for the last 9 years.”

Apparently, I made him feel like an afterthought. The truth is that I’ve been with Bill for as long as I was with my kids’ father at this point. Well, almost – a year shy, since I was married for 9 years and 10 months, and Bill and I will be celebrating our 9th anniversary this year. I’m not sure if it’s a sense of insecurity on his part, or my taking for granted that he understands the depth of feeling I have, but whatever it was, it ended up in what passes for an argument between us.

Him: “I saw your blog. ‘Oh, and Bill too’?”

Me: “What? What I actually said was “And add Bill for the last 9 years. Nine Years.”

Him: “Yeah, but it was like ‘oh, and add Bill.’”

Me: “That’s it. I’m not writing to the blog anymore. It’s not like I post much anyhow."

Him: “Fine. I won’t read it anymore. You can keep posting.”

Me: “There’s no reason for you to stop reading…I just…I don’t know. I won’t have time to write much anyhow.”

We both know that neither of those things is going to happen. He could no more stop reading this than I could stop writing it. And the truth is (as I see it, anyhow), neither one of us WANTS to do those things.

In those 9 years I mentioned above, Bill’s put up with a lot. My mom passed away in 2004, and I don’t know what I would have done without him. He shopped for, cooked and served – single-handedly – the reception after the funeral. I don’t think funerals are his thing, but he was there through the wake and the service while I played hostess to those people who came to pay their respects. He and my son, who is not a funeral attendee either, sat together and did what men do when they’re somewhere they’d really rather not be. And that was fine. Better than fine. I was so grateful, and I don’t think I ever told him because I was so busy working through my own issues. For that event, he was the rock in the kitchen and in general for me at my mother’s home afterward – as I flitted amongst clusters of people, sharing memories and thoughts with them. He has been with me through tweenhood, puberty and adolescence. And as my daughter moves into adolescence now, he’s STILL with us, and that says an awful lot!

At this stage of my life, with one in college and one home and more money going out than coming in, he’s here for us in SO many ways! Each week finds him coming through the door with cases of food for the cats, or gallons of heating oil. Or the ingredients for a fabulous meal that covers not only a night’s dinner, but several lunches, too! He’s invaluable, and I guess I don’t let him know that often enough. I wonder what my problem is…*sigh* I guess I expect him to be a mind reader and just understand what I’m thinking. I forget men can’t do that…

So, sweetheart…this one’s for you. I hope you understand how much I love you, and that you are NOT an afterthought in the least. You’re a part of who we are and what we do, and I hope it’s that way for a long, long time.