It's interesting. My previous post, "Back Story", came up quite a bit for me last night and this morning already, and it's only 8:30am!
Chris and I sat down last night, before bed, and hooked up the Ethernet cable at our new place. I wanted to come to my blog, so the computer slowly, (oh, so slowly!) took me there. Chris looked over at saw.
"Married to an Addict," he said. So matter-of-factly. I felt a mix of emotion. The kind where I so desperately wanted to show him, which brought up a whole 'nother bag of issues to deal with later, and the kind where I wanted to keep it to myself.
He read some of the title entries on the "posts" page. I read him The Junkys Wife Nicole Richie entry. I felt it fit perfectly for him - being a crazy crackhead and all.
He said I should read one I wrote, so I read one - a safe one of course.
It was the after feeling I completely hated. I wished so much that I hadn't read it to him. I wished that it was just mine. That is another issue with me. I hate sharing. That probably explains why I am so secretive, but I hate sharing anything in my life that I view as mine.
I don't mean crackers or a candy bar or money. I mean, if I view something as valuable to me, close to my heart, something personal and wonderful and only something I can understand, I do not want to share it. I feel like a little piece of me dies. Like a little piece of me is taken away when I share something, when I give up something.
I instantly regretted it. This something was mine. It was mine to share my life, to vent about the very man I was reading a post to. He would never understand its meaning to me. Even I don't fully understand its meaning to me!
Chris had known that I had a blog. He knew it was about him, our life, his addiction. And he didn't seem mad. He wasn't mad.
Maybe my problem with sharing comes from the fact that if I share, I let someone in. And if I let someone in, I have to deal with possibility of being hurt.
Too early in the morning for this.