Mom's visit

My mom is coming to visit. She doesn't know about this blog. I feel like I can only express my true feelings if the people who I write about never see this. It's a little deceptive, I know. What can I say? My character is on a downhill slide . . . No, it's not true. I'm as straight-laced as the day I was born.

I'm not writing this blog to deceive or hurt anyone. My close friends, God bless them, assume I'm doing it to educate others. That is a beautiful, worthwhile reason. While I take every chance I can get to clarify certain subjects, as seen a few blogs ago, that is not my main drive.

I just want to express myself.

For almost a full year, I had to live my everyday life like nothing was wrong. I didn't know who in the community knew or cared about what was happening in my life, so I put on a good face and acted normal. I figured out the day the first article ran in the local paper about Jake's arrest - the day the phone rang off the hook with people calling to console me - that most people pitied my situation. But that didn't lessen my discomfort when someone in town would stop to take a long look at me. 

I get so tired of just glazing over the situation like nothing has happened. When someone ignorant asks me about Jake, I say things like: "Oh, he's not working as a teacher anymore. He's working full time at his personal business," and other such non-committal, non-detailed statements.

After sentencing, he was in jail for one month solid before he was granted work release (the ability to leave jail during the day in order to work). During that month, I answered the business phone and email and tried to pretend like everything was normal. It killed me. I had to basically lie to clients by saying, "Jake's out of town and doesn't have his cell phone or access to a computer." Sure, it was the truth, but it is lying nonetheless. I HATE deception. But I live by the profits of the business, too, so I did my part to keep it alive.

Recently, I went back to my home town. I dreaded my high school classmates asking me about my husband. I was so sick of lying and avioding the conversation that I was ready to scream, "MY HUSBAND IS A CONVICTED SEX OFFENDER IN JAIL!!!"

Luckily, no one asked about him.

Anyhow, my mother is coming and she is so completely welcome in all aspects of my life, except this. So I will just have to close down these tabs while she's here. As I say this, I recognize the parallel this creates with my husband's own hidden secrets. My computer now sits where his computer once did. I now claim his incredibly large and comfy office chair. And how many times did he hear me walking to the office and close down tabs on his computer that he didn't want me to see?

The parallel is saddening to the point I feel guilty for ever hiding any part of myself from a loved one. And yet, our loved ones are the hardest for us to be true around sometimes.

P.S. If you need another blog to visit, try So I married a sex offender. Or, if you want something more positive and empowering, try Redifine Girly.