I am a Celeb Gossip addict. I want to know who said what, where and when. I want to know who went shopping for jewelry in their sweatpants (which is funny as I sit here, just having come back from hitting up 4 different stores in town in MY sweatpants and my son’s crocs). I think its rough that they have all this attention and can’t move without someone watching, but when you live in the public eye it seems like it’s all fair game.
I am not famous. I am not the heiress to a fortune, daughter of a famous actor or featured in this month’s Vanity Fair (although there’s something to this sweatpants/croc thing I think a lot of people are missing). I do, however, live in the public eye.
Growing up as a kids, the hubs and are were ministers kids. Our behavior reflected on our parents (or so I was led to believe). We had to be good. We couldn’t do certain things our friends could do, couldn’t go certain places. Fast forward 20 years, and we are now the ministers, under the watchful eye of those in our town. Which means, going to do the groceries, we are “on”. Dropping stuff off for a kid at school, we are “on”. Even those late night excursions for Gravol, Immodium, or Toilet Paper… We’re on. Outside the walls of our house, privacy is not a thing we can expect. Being “On” is exhausting. We all have bad days. Everyone has them. But when you’re on, you have to push those days out of your mind… or save them for behind closed doors.
Early on in our relationship, the hubs was having a rough day (yes, just the one… he really is a trooper) and when I asked him why he could smile for everyone else, but them come home and barley grunt two words, his answer was simple. “I don’t have to be on at home. I can be sad, upset, crazy, whatever, and you love me just the same. It’s where I can be me”. It makes sense!! I was his safe place. It was one of the sweetest things I had ever heard, and quick enough that I couldn’t pin down exactly when it happened, we became that for each other. Sweat pant wearing, stained shirt, dirty laundry on the floor, distracted listening safe places.
You may have seen the different lists floating around cyber space, blogs written by people post divorce who talk about things not to do, advice to avoid the position they found themselves in. One of them I read probably a year ago said “Don’t give them your worst”. I can’t get it out of my head. We know each other’s “good, bad and ugly”, but I don’t want that to define me. I don’t want my husband to only know the “off” me.
I want to give him my best. My most. My “On” should be reserved for him, not for other people. His is the most important human to human relationship I have on the planet. He is the best of all I have, and I don’t ever want him to feel otherwise. I don’t want to smile and laugh with other people and then barely croak out two words to him. I don’t want to look around a crowded room while he’s talking to me, trying to find someone who needs my attention.
He is my best, and I’d like to hope I am his.
{Im}perfect Peace 
And that is all that matters, right? 🙂
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