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It took less that 48 hours for me to tell my husband it existed. It wasn’t until then I realized how hurtful a secret blog is. I have a handwritten diary, that’s mine, He knows it’s there, he knows my angry and dark thoughts go into it. (I often wonder why I never think to pick it up when I’m happy, to record and accomplishment, or just the joy of a day spent in bed eating Chinese take-out and watching movies.) But a blog is different; it's all of my secrets posted for reading and commenting by anyone except my family. That I would share with strangers, but not him was hurtful.
We went to dinner, for a date night. I mentioned that I thought a counselor may help me. He was supportive; he immediately offered to go with me. He’s doing everything he can to make this our problem not my problem. During the course of the conversation I told this wonderful angel of a man about my secret blog and I saw the pain in his eyes. The man who is my love, my rock, my best friend and my cheerleader and my counselor; I made his eyes turn sad. It was a huge wake up call.
For a while I’ve realized that my negative feelings about this situation don’t only affect me, there is an obvious ripple effect. I’ve seen Manchild cringe when he knows I’m in a psycho bad mood that he’s trying to avoid taking the brunt of. When this happens, I feel sad, guilty, even angry at myself. But I can’t seem to stop. I’ve caught the look in my husband’s eye when he can’t understand why I’m stomping around and I know I’m spreading misery the same way a a gardner spreads seeds; but instead of making me stop this realization seems to cause the bad emotions feed each other.
So yes, I’ve decided to see a counselor with the hope that I can learn to communicate better and be a better and less wickedstepmonster. Or at least stop the self loathing that amplifies everything.
