Which she totally doesn't know how to interpret, and which annoys her. I did that Friday afternoon and go snapped at, and felt very snippy back. I stomped out and went running, and came back and mowed the lawn. At least some useful work got done out of the thing, but it was a bad bad moment.
Long ago I heard the maxim "Don't go to bed mad," but I'm afraid time has dimmed the good sense in that aphorism; I went to bed mad and got up early Saturday and started doing projects; it was too rainly to finish the lawn, as it has been on-and-off all weekend. Unfortunately, I did a bunch of technical projects, none of which worked out very well.
So the proximate cause of being out-of-sorts was a miscommunication with my beloved, but I'm afraid the slightly deeper cause was twofold:
- I hate having to hide things from my beloved. So when I'm working on this blog, or indulging myself surfing the net, I hate it when I stress about whether or not she'll see what I'm doing... and
- Writing this blog has made me start to accept myself as I am in a way that I haven't in many many years. And not being able to share that is incredibly frustrating.
But my very disquiet makes me think that this is a conversation that has to happen. I wonder if I could show her this blog? Big risk, but I told myself, at least, that I wouldn't gild the lily and that I would be completely honest here. So I have been; for better or (mostly) for worse, what's here is me. If anybody wanders by and has been through this pass before, I'd love a pointer or two.