Soap made of goat's milk doesn't lather

Why I blog

For me, it's a very useful way of expressing my feelings. I've always kept a diary and this was just the natural extension of the paper version. Plus, I found out that my dad read my sixteen year old diary that detailed my first sexual experiences in detail and I never felt quite safe with it again, so when an electronic version came up I jumped at it. Of course, the default setting for this blog is 'everybody' and probably anybody could hack into the other entries if they were really, really determined but for some reason it just feels more secure. That is after I am no longer married to a hacking, spying SH.

That and I no longer write about my sexual experiences in detail. Although I've written a little porn, based on them, here and there and posted it anonymously, through others.

Ron doesn't read it. I want to make it clear that he can, even the private stuff, but he chooses not to. As he says, it's my way of dealing with life and he doesn't want to impinge upon my space. That if I want to I can vent about him there and call him nasty names and whatever, secure in the knowledge I am verbally beating him up without fear of retaliation. If I really want him to read something I've written about him, then I send it to him, or he will ask to see it. In the early stages of our relationship, I'd make the blog entries from the letters I'd written to him. Now, not so much.

What dying man wants to face quite up to the reality that I detail here? So I don't tell him what I write unless he asks.

It's strange: yesterday we were talking on the phone and he was revisiting verbally his time here in Australia and saying how much he loved it and would love to do it again and I was terrribly conflicted. He's not coming back, I know this, he knows this, so why does he talk as if he is? Is he trying to get me more upbeat by getting me to focus on a future that looks positive? Is he hoping I'll forget I'll my medical knowledge and my awareness of his terminal condition? Is he just trying to fool himself? Was it all to get us to both stop being so upset?

I'm never going to shoot him down but it makes it terribly hard for me to bear. It just reminds me of one of the happiest times of my life that I will never have again. No wonder I keep crying so much. I have to learn to compartmentalise, to focus on one aspect of his irrational coming-to-terms-with-dying-soon behaviour at a time.