Just between us

Did I have to check my old email to find the name of this blog is again today? Yes. My hell. What is wrong with me?

Right, so dilemma. Well, not really, but whenever faced with controversy I feel like it's a dilemma, because I hate confrontation. Hate it. But alas.

So I changed the location and names on my new blog because I had long suspected that I was no longer writing on the down-low. Sometimes people would mention things in conversations with me that I know I hadn't told them, or anyone else for that matter. Save the blog. And my husband. Heh. Sooo, as much fun as having friends and relatives read about my trips to the crazyhouse and never ending battle with PPD is... no.

I don't keep a journal, and the one's I did keep at one point I burned. Because dear lord. (Swistle, you are braver than any woman I have ever known. And some of the old journal entries you've posted are some of the grandest essays I have ever read. Anywhere. They fill me with delight and joy. Thank you.) I would rather take a big one up the wahoobee than re-read some of my old stuff, let alone post for the world to see.

So I got an email this morning from an old "friend" of mine asking for the new site. heh. hehehehellno. How she got it in the first place (you used your real names dip shit, that's how she found it in the first place. you have no one to blame but yourself.) nevermind. But I write here because as much as I LOVE everyone who commented at the old site, I never had to face them. You know? Telling strangers (or at least people I haven't met in person) about your darkest struggles is so much easier, than say discussing it with your neighbor. Because hey, if they're judging you, (which they usually aren't) it's okay! I won't be seeing you at the cookout on Friday and seeing that judgement in your eyes.

I don't have any sisters (three brothers). And I don't have a mother (she's somewhere. but that's another story.) My husband has SEVEN brothers and no sisters (the only reason I'm throwin that out there is to explain his lack of hmmm... understanding at times of the feminine mystique.). We live in VA, and my family is in Utah. (whaa that's a big reveal that I really don't know if I want out yet. but meh.) So what I'm really getting at is this, it's nice to have friends. Women friends who understand you, and don't judge you, and laugh with you when you need it.

I've never been conventional in the circles that I run in. We can all say that that's a good thing, and be your own person, and blahdeblahdeblah, but sometimes it's just nice to fit in somewhere. You know? I've always struggled to do that, and here I feel like I don't (struggle that is). Because if I want to say shitdamnhell, well, I do. And I don't feel bad about it. (husband has long since stopped reading my blogs. it's best for our marriage.) If I want to say that "goddamnit I had a terrible day," I do. And it's okay too. Everything's not always fine. (big bright smile! would you care for a muffin?!)

I love the life that I've chosen. I really do. My marriage is incredible. I have two amazingly wonderful kids. My husband and I both have jobs (one stable. one not so much.). And we're happy. I'm happy. But I'm even more happy when I can let this side of myself be sometimes too. Does that make any sense?

It does to me. And that (longwinded much Jess Ilana?) is why I'm going to tell her no.