A Word About My Husband (after a bunch more words)

It has been more than fifteen-and-a-half years since I published my first "blog" post, just a couple of years after the Diaryland site started, and just as the word "blog" (a shortened version of "weblog") was starting to be used. I called it an "online journal." If you're interested, here's the March 30, 2001 entry in all of its glory.

I started the blog because I wasn't ready to share the news of my first pregnancy with anyone else, but wanted a record. Then I knew that some people would want to stay updated (like my mom, and far-away friends), but I didn't want to be "that guy" sending out group emails every week. I figured an online journal was a good place to put info that people could check at their leisure, or ignore altogether.

I can't imagine how many words I've written since then. It's been a lot.

I've never had more than a core few dozen readers, and often many fewer than that. I think I took a two-year break when D was 7 or so because Facebook updates were faster and easier. Since then, obviously, I've started blogging more regularly... But the format is different now. I tend to write when I have what I think are bigger stories, or experiences or products to share.

Of all time, my most popular blog post has been the one several months ago where I made a bunch of weird food from a kid's video, and the company shared my link with their followers. The post that is visited as a result of the most searches is my review of the steak, egg, and cheese bagel from McDonald's. Yeah, that kind of insults the rest of my life. Whatever.

I've made it a point to write as honestly as I can, trying to be aware of the privacy of others. I've had to go back and remove some posts and edit some things after I've gotten feedback (times that also clued me in that maybe more people read my journal than I thought, back before they had counters standard on blog services).

I never want to make anyone look or feel bad. And I hope we can agree that, although I'm strongly opinionated and voice that often, I can also be brutal to myself.

Where am I going with this?

Oh, yeah...

Several years ago, I was divorced. When it came up, I tried to keep it classy. I actually ran into some trouble with the church I attended; it was communicated to me that my posts could be "divisive" to people reading but not getting all sides. I tried to rein all of that in; I really did. But I wanted people to know what I was going through, too.

Consequently, over the years, several women have messaged me privately to confide things like, "After XYZ years of emotional abuse, I have left my husband..." Now, I never think that the dissolution of a marriage is to be celebrated. And these women didn't want congratulations or praise or a party. They reached out because they learned, like I did, that when you elect to initiate divorce proceedings and your life gets really messy, you lose people. I think it's just a lot of drama, even if you try to keep it to a minimum, and it's hard. And some people don't have the emotional energy to deal with it.

So, in those cases, I'm so glad that I put my stuff "out there." I'm so glad that a few people knew they weren't the first, or the only. I'm glad I felt like a safe person.

Today, someone reached out to ask me a question that has had me ruminating over it for some time. It involved how you live functionally when the person who's supposed to love you the most actively and visibly resents and detests you.

Here's the truth, no finger-pointing, just reality: My older child's dad did not like many things about me, and he did not try to hide his disdain (or he wasn't good at it, if he did). I think that we got married so fast, he might have thought I had some quirks that weren't his favorite, but that the good stuff outweighed that. As the years passed, I think it just got to be too much for him. I felt "too much" a lot. Too big, too loud, too immature, too crazy, too excited. Embarrassing. On so many levels.

Now.

Here's what I want to tell you about my husband. If you're a guy, this is important. Actually, it's important no matter your gender. My husband is amazing at this. I still need to practice mindfulness about it.

Before we got married, James told me that he loved me, including the hard/bad stuff. Now, it's not because my annoying/wrong stuff is so adorable that he just can't help it. He was letting me know that he was making a choice to love ALL of me.

In fact, recently, we kind of butted heads and I said, "I'm a bitch sometimes, huh? Just a bossy little bitch." He didn't sugar-coat it and deny that. He nodded his head. And a bit later, he said, "I love that about you, too. Because it IS a part of who you are, and I love you."

Now, there's no way he's saying that when I have a bee in my bonnet that he's enjoying it big-time. What he's saying is not that we're lucky my "good stuff" outweighs my "bad stuff." He's saying it's all me, and he loves and accepts ME.

Maybe other people have this kind of thing and it's normal, but I feel like it's revolutionary. There is such a freedom to admit mistakes and talk about weaknesses and get things out in the open when you're not afraid you're going to disappoint someone out of loving you.

He's my role-model with this, because I want him to feel that same security and surety, and I want my kids to bask in it, as well.

Jackpot hit, friends.