Women write about slowing down, trusting. They talk about time flying, and years passing. They write about motherhood and kids; oh, they write about their kids. They try to write about themselves, distinguish themselves from their kids. They write about nature, and details, and overcoming whatever has come their way. They write about books and arts and politics; they write of painful pasts. They write of their causes, they share their insights. They speak of friends and dreams they have. They write of health and change. They write of their sadness, their darkness, their depression.
It’s harder to find, or at least I haven’t found it yet, writing about marriage and the spousal relationship. I mean real writing, intimate, true. Or perhaps what I have always thought is true, no one feels or experiences the world as I do. I had talked myself out of that because I never dreamed of finding people and making connections with those who understand some of my struggles. I do understand the tenuous ground of writing about spouses, (or teens or parents or sisters...etc) but I yearn to understand and have someone identify with me on this level.
I have an added advantage right now of having a few trusted readers, none of whom appear in my real life. Except for my mother. And I have another blog where I write about her. Kidding.
Even though we have made major changes, our lives are still full and busy and, frankly, we are tired. I don’t take the time to talk to Steve about much of my journey, and when I do, it doesn’t come out like I want it to. Over the years, especially when tempers run short, I have written him letters so that I can let him know what’s going on. I wrote one to him a few days ago. Not only did it explain where I was coming from, but, as with most of my writing now, it led me to new places that were unexpected. I have done this the past few days, and I have taken to filing them in a folder I have dubbed, The Husband Series.
I am not sure what will come of this, but I like it now. Parts of these letters are very personal, but I think parts of them may be more universal. The biggest surprise for me is what I am learning about myself. Writing to him has pushed me to look at some things in a new way. And as a disclosure, I may not give him all of the letters. And I certainly won’t share them all here. But I would be interested to hear what you think.