My Lips are Sealed

You would think that if I can share things as intimate as my cycle (or lack thereof) and the great quantity of cookies that I consume each day to fill the pit in my stomach, I'd pretty much be able to share anything with my readers. Over the past couple of months I've bared my soul sharing light-hearted accounts of how my family and I are surviving the recession and job loss. I've tried to do so with humor and believe it or not - a teeny, tiny bit of dignity and grace. So it might surprise you to learn that there is a lot that I don't share. 

Part of my desire to keep quiet on some of the details is out of respect for my husband. He's been such a good sport about this blog. It would be hard enough for most men to deal with the emotional and financial effects of being laid off, but my husband also has to contend with the fact that people he doesn't even know are reading about his rose colored glasses and the fact that his crazy-ass wife picks out his interview outfits. 

But there is another part of me that just doesn't want to share every single detail of what I'm going through right now. Not with you. Not with him. Not with anybody. These are my thoughts and I want to keep them private. (for awhile anyway.) If I put my doctor of psychology hat on for a minute, I suppose my diagnosis is that it has something to do with managing my expectations. If I don't share a particular thought or fear, than it isn't really a valid thought or fear.  

And it's not only bad or negative things that I've been keeping mum. My husband has actually had a few good nibbles, but I've opted to keep them private as well (until two seconds ago). It's almost as if I'm afraid to talk about it, because I'm afraid I'll jinx it. Is that crazy? 

A few years ago, my daughter suffered a seizure and was rushed to the hospital where an MRI revealed an infection of her brain. The doctor couldn't safely perform a biopsy, so he prescribed about 6 different antibiotics with the hopes that one of them would do the trick. The drugs were administered around the clock and she was in the hospital for a week. I tried my damnedest to be optimistic, but I was cautiously optimistic, at best. I didn't want to share all of the bad news, but I didn't want to share all of the good news, either. I was afraid that if I shared too much good news and painted a picture of her being completely out of the woods, it would hurt her chances of really being completely out of the woods. Is that crazy?

And that's kind of how I feel now. And you know what - I don't really care if it sounds crazy, cause I call the shots and this approach works best for me. 

Look, in the end everything worked out beautifully for my daughter and I honestly believe that we are in store for another happy ending. As long as I control what is and is not said, I'll be fine. I'll continue to share, but just understand...some of the stuff is strictly off limits. For now, anyway.