Public property

Saturday:

When I started this blog it was a high-tech version of the hand-written journals I'd been keeping on and off since I was a teenager. Talking about what I'd done that day, how I was feeling. Written for me, although it was exciting to get readers and comments.

My husband started reading it, which I both liked and didn't like. It meant I couldn't say anything negative about him (he's lovely, but everyone is irritating at some point) but also it made me conscious all the time that someone I knew in real life was going to read it, and that was a bit inhibiting.

And also, a couple of times he suggested I edit posts where I'd said things about our children or neighbours, because what if they read it one day? So I stopped talking about the people in my life except in the most banal way. Nothing too personal. Nothing that was meaningful.

But I could still talk about myself, right? About how I was feeling.

A couple of posts ago I got a comment that I was being a bit whiney. To suck it up and stop complaining so much. I do vent a lot here - I mistakenly thought it was my personal space where I could do so without offending anyone - it seemed a better option than always whining to my family who aren't allowed to walk away or ignore me.

I guess I was wrong. I was wrong the whole time. This is public property, and everyone from my husband to complete strangers get to decide what I can and cannot write about.