I suck at keeping secrets.
Really. suck. at. secrets.
But this secret is not mine to tell. This secret is vital for me to keep.
How isolating... I was afraid to sit down to talk with a friend this week for fear that she'd know something was wrong. She didn't and I was surprised that I was able to carry on a normal conversation. How could she not see that I was consumed by a secret?
My husband has been keeping his secret for a very, very long time. He remembers trying on his sister's and mother's underwear as a child, so we're talking over 30 years.
How does one go from keeping a secret for over 30 years to revealing everything to someone that he didn't trust enough to tell the secret to himself?
Why do I believe that he is telling me everything now? He says that he is...
And I do... am I in denial?
Believe it or not, I'm at peace this morning, but yesterday was...not so peaceful. I am immersed, consumed, battered by a constant barrage of thoughts about this. I have nothing to distract me. It's exhausting...
But because this is a secret, I don't get to process it in my normal way. I can't talk and talk to my friends until I've worked through my problems. It's a secret... Unfortunately for me, despite the fact that my husband wants to explore his feminine side in the bedroom, he's not very feminine. He's NOT a talker (he is trying, bless him, but it is sooooo foreign to him).
So now I'm blogging. At least it gets it out of my head...