Two Different Pages

I’ve tried to be sincere, upfront, and honest while sharing my life through this blog.  For the most part I just go and whatever happens to be on my mind is what you get.  There isn’t a whole lot of filtering going on. I guess that could be good or bad, depending on who you ask.

I’ve also tried to make sure I didn’t use it as a forum for airing all my grievances and dirty laundry.   I just think there are some things that aren’t meant for public entertainment. Or public judgment.  But I'm an imperfect person with an imperfect life. And that isn’t new to anyone. At least to anyone that knows me.

So there’s a difficult balance between being open and remaining private.  Today those lines are a little blurry for me.  Maybe I’m just frustrated enough that I don’t care. Because I’ve been frustrated for most the day.

There are a lot of things about life that my husband and I view differently.  And I think that’s okay, sometimes even good.

Sometimes it’s very, very difficult.  Like today.  

We spent a large amount of time today clashing about some of those things.  And I get that everyone argues – you can’t take two people and mesh them together without some conflict.  It happens. That's normal.

But it becomes more of an issue when it’s not an argument but a fundamental difference in values or perspective. And it's the same conflict – the dialog never changes. And I don’t know that it ever will.  So I’ve got to find some way to reconcile that or be okay with not reconciling it.

It’s difficult for me because I’ve always wanted to spend my life making a difference. Well, except when I was five and wanted to be a model – that was before I realized there wasn’t a huge demand for short, stubby, somewhat attractive women in the modeling industry.  It was a sad day when that reality came crashing down. You mean you have to be strikingly gorgeous with a bangin body and legs galore to do that? Get out!

But I’ve always felt called to make a difference – even in a small way. That’s why I wanted to be in public service – at one point I believed I was going to storm DC and make the world right.  It didn’t quite end up that way but I’m fortunate enough to have the opportunity to do something.  So I love my job because I feel like I get to give back. I get to spend my day doing something positive, something meaningful. It’s not just a job for me- it’s something I really care about, something I’m passionate about. 

My husband doesn’t understand that so it’s hard for him to accept that I would want do things above and beyond what I need to do. It’s hard for him to understand my job period.   He doesn’t see any value of it and quite honestly doesn’t think it should exist.

That’s hard for me. 

And I can’t seem to find a way to make it any less hard.

So that's the ugly of what's on my mind right now. Judge away...