A couple of weeks ago, Ann Althouse blogged about a conversation she had with fellow-blogger Tonya regarding how or if we should censor ourselves as we blog. I clicked over to Tonya's blog and wrote in the comments there:
I don't censor anything I want to write about myself, especially as I'm dealing with cancer treatments and all that hoo-ha. As Tonya said, it's "me, me, me, me, me"!
When it's not me-me-me, my cardinal rule is never to identify anyone in my personal life by name. Readers who know me may easily identify who I'm writing about, but I still keep those references anonymous.
I also don't blog about people who I know read me... until now, I hadn't really thought about it. Is it because I haven't wanted to, or because I'm censoring myself? I've blogged about my relationship with my Mom, and ticked off my sister in the process -- but my Mom won't ever read it, and if I thought she would, I wouldn't have posted it, no question.
Self-censorship is a good thing. Restraint takes practice and can really save your butt. I recommend it.
All of which ironically leads to this morning, at 6:30AM, DH waking me up to ask me if I'm all right, how I'm feeling, is there anything he can do for me?
There's a first time for everything, and DH had, after months of seeing it on screen and ignoring it, finally read my blog. Of course he didn't read something like this, no. He had to read my most recent panic-induced rant.
Now, my own personal definition of rant goes something like this: an illogical, emotional tirade. Dictionary.com defines it as "Violent or extravagant speech or writing." So I guess my personal definition is a bit off, since I wasn't violent, but I certainly wasn't rational.
Anyway: arguments, demands, protestations, crying.
DH is upset that I've portrayed him unfairly, in public, for all the world to see. He didn't forget. He can't forget: he just feels helpless. He doesn't know what to do to help me.
I explained: this is my therapy (hence, "Oasis of Sanity.") It's free, and it fits in my schedule, without inconveniencing anyone else in the family. It helps me tremendously.
I asked, should I wake him up whenever I'm freaking out, even when I know that most of it is fueled by my brink-of-depression-state, since my thyroid hormones are shot, and I'm still feeling the after-effects of the RAI, and have a cold on top of it all?
He says, yes.
I say, I don't want to do that -- he asks, why not?
I say, because I can handle this, for now. Because now it's not serious, I'm not dying. And I don't want to burn you out, for when I am dying, for when I really need you.
There was more, and more crying, but I think we understand each other better, and there is no more anger.
A little after 7, all the kids came downstairs: our arguing had woken them up. It was oddly comforting that they weren't worried about us fighting having any deeper meaning than we were just having a disagreement. Their concept of our family doesn't include any possibility of us not-together, even though they are aware of folks who are divorced. That's cool.
I was freezing and went back to bed and slept until 10:30, almost 11 before I came down. We went out for lunch and then went to see the SpongeBob SquarePants movie, which was a lot of fun. Then we came home and DH took DD and DS2 out to look for bikes for DD, and I took DS1 to Mass.
The rest of the day is a blur...
The weather today was cold and rainy, and even in the midst of my emotional turmoils, I noticed that my hands and my feet weren't in any pain at all. My piriformis is kicking up lately but I have been much too lax about putting my hips into alignment properly, or doing my strengthening exerices as I should. My throat feels all "junky" again today, too.
DD has a rash all over her chest again, and complains of a sore throat. We're concerned she has strep again. I'll put in a call to the pediatrician tomorrow and see if it warrants a visit to urgent care tomorrow, or if it can wait until Monday.
