Theorizing about Blogs

Blogs are quite interesting things. Web logs. Blogs. These are written not just for the author to vent or to have an artistic outlet, but in beliefs that someone is reading. According to feedforall.com's glossary Blogs are defined as:

Blog is short for weblog. A weblog is a journal that is frequently updated and intended for general public consumption. http://www.feedforall.com/rss-glossary.htm

So I posted a link on my signature at http://www.teddekker.com for people who frequent the message boards to be able to read this. I posted a link on Myspace. I did not post a link on facebook, because the note process is annoying to get to, and changing my status would result in the focus being take away from the recent passing of my great grandmother. So I am writing a blog that I know only 1 person has read the last entry. I doubt anyone else read it. I guess I am safe to vent here then? Weird. I want someone to read this... I really do. But then again, I know myself all too well. If there were 5 or more followers that I knew pretty well I would never write this down:


Last night was painful. Horribly painful. Of the actual night I slept probably an hour at the most. I kept writhing in pain. It took until nearly 4:00 A.M. for me to decide to rummage through the medicine cabinet for anything resembling a pain medication. Found some from when I had a massive UTI. It did not work nearly fast enough. I originally laid down beside my husband, and when we were going to kiss goodnight we both understood we were going to try and be a bit romantic. It was date night after all. There would not be any love making. I was in too much pain. We were simply going to share kisses, and then drift off to sleep. It is rare that we make out or romantically kiss anymore. Simple pecks on the lips, cheeks, or forehead are our general consumption of kisses. He says they are too "wet". Matthew hates being wet. Last night he exclaimed "ACK! Germs!" I am not quite sure why...my pain isn't from anything someone can contract. Right before he did, I was trying to kiss him in a way that we used to love to kiss while dating. It isn't a French kiss, or anything of that nature really. It is simply locking our lips together, mouths slightly open, and sharing one another's breath.

See, you can only do this for so long, because we are both exhaling carbon dioxide. It is similar to the paper-bag-effect of someone who is hyperventilating. Carbon Dioxide calms down the brain, eventually slowing your breathing. Your body's own sedative in a way. Kissing like this is extremely intimate (at least for me). You have to pull away when necessary and both of you will become thoroughly light headed. Very similar to a high I would imagine. I wanted to be romantic, and I wanted that feeling to repress some of the pain.

When he pulled away, tears started to well up. I am a silent crier most of the time especially since it rarely lasts more than a few moments. Being my Matthew, he knew I was upset though I doubt he knew to the extent. He said simply "I am going to work on those things that upset you". God I wish he'd be more specific. "Babe, I really would like to get past this. Let myself go, and be able to love you with total abandon". We actually talked about that. He said he'll try eventually. But back to the crying:

I cried a lot last night. Not because of the pain, the pains was wracking, but not tear jerking; still severe, but just a different type of pain. I cried a lot last night. Riley, our pup, soon started whining after the kissing episode, so I went to play with her. We had seen 2 movies for date night, and were out longer than usual. So she did need some time to burn energy. She barked! She barked twice last night. I was so happy. When she had calmed, I put her in her little bed, and went to lay beside my husband. He told me as I was situating "thank you for caring about me"...when the conversation was slightly over I told him that Riley had barked at our kitten.

His retort, though I did not expect as much energy as I had from a story about Riley, was that he needed me to be quiet. He had to get up for work in the morning, and if he didn't sleep soon he would never get up!

Oh I see...so it would be my fault. Sorry for keeping you up for a few kisses. Sorry for keeping the pup quiet simply because I KNEW you needed to sleep. My eyes began to burn, that familiar burn, when you are fighting off tears because you don't want someone to see that weakness. "I'm going to take a bath, and see if I can feel better". That was retorted yet again, harshly with "Brit I need you to not tell me anything".

I hurried to the bathroom, turning on the water and cried. Not a simple crying session like I expressed earlier. These were tears from my very soul. I have not been on my medication for 2 months now. My depression has crept its way back into everyday life, and I have been miserable. There are few things that make me smile or care:
My pets,
my husband,
and my best friend Holly.

And lately the only thing not making me cry were the pets.

See in the living room, while playing with Riley. I zoned out while she played with the cats. I simply thought "I could do it. I know I can. It isn't that tough." Then Riley barked, taking me out of the zone and smiling. But then the whole "I need to sleep" episode happened—which for a normal situation, a very understandable request. Even then and now I sat there and knew he was not being cruel. He did not know my thoughts and if he had, he simply would have thought "forget about work…I'm going to care for her tonight". But I didn't share my thoughts. He needed to go to work. I put my self needs behind his, he needs his sleep. I never mind doing that. I do not regret it either.

The bath contained similar thoughts about how I could, I was able and such. I picked up my book to read instead of dwelling on such thoughts. After a rather long bath, I went back to bed to my husband who by the signs of his shallow breath and stiff body, had entered REM long before my bath had ended. He was sprawled across the bed too. I tried to push him over, he wouldn't budge. He was sleeping better than he had for quite some time so I went and got Riley. We went to sleep in the other bedroom. She slept just fine. I however, did not. The pain kept getting worse. Finally I broke down to take those meds, and take ANOTHER bath. I needed something to subdue it while giving the medicine time to work its way through my blood stream. I read more of my book. I crept into bed, still in pain and Matthew eventually woke up, simply put a hand on my abdomen, rubbed it slightly and fell back into REM. The kind gesture was comforting, but I was in so much pain still. Finally I drifted off into sleep.



A few more explanations?

I am not depressed about my marriage. I actually, for the majority of the time am quite happy with it. We are generally very open with each other, best friends, and want to help each other. We have still been that way through this trial I am in. Last night simply...was nearly unbearable.

I cry at the drop of a hat, and I hate it. I can constantly berate myself that when my dear friend tells me how bad I paint my nails...we are all joking. It is quite obvious. I have seen her paint her nails, and it is just as awkward as me. But...when I get home away from everything...I feel like she just tolerates me. I know this isn't true. I really really know this. But it doesn't matter though, because Something...someone keeps lying to me.


I've become paranoid again. Thank you lack of medication once again.

I believe that no one really likes me. That it is just a matter of time before they give up. I do not have the energy to clean my house, you should see it. Actually no, I would be severely embarrassed and my depression would probably skyrocket at that. I keep thinking about cutting, and a list of other self harm tactics. I have yet to bring myself to revert to that. Matt threatened to turn me in last time. Granted I do not believe him anymore, I do not want to hurt Matt. He is the only one that would truly be hurt by that part of it. He's the only one that would know.

So I have written an extra long blog, and its interesting that i find myself in a dilemma. I want you to read it. I don't want you to read it. I am scared you will confront me. I am scared you will not confront me.

So when I told you in the last blog that I had lost it...yeh, I wasn't lying.