Every now and then I go through periods of time where I’m discontent, incredibly hyper, and I start to drive myself a little more insane. I love my life and family but let’s admit it — Suburbia can become a tad monotonous. For someone who thought she’d go prematurely gray from herculean efforts to  save the whole darn world, or who at least seriously thought of a career reporting on the human condition around the globe, being married with two dogs, a fenced-in backyard in a sea of McMansions and obsessing about my child’s education isn’t quite how I pictured grown-up life. My last hold out is a death-grip refusal to get a minivan, even if it would be more practical.

Lately I’ve been fantasizing about jumping out of planes over a jungle, backpacking through China with my 5-year-old or volunteering in a refuge camp for a year. Sure I could make one or all of these little fantasies a reality, but I won’t. I’ve come to appreciate the security and stability my husband and I have created; the ebb and flow of daily life and apparently I’m too much of a chicken anyway. Still though, the seed for discontent lives inside my mind and seems to bloom at least once a year.

Thankfully my husband is also a discontent soul…full of wanderlust and a knack for dreaming. He’s not threatened when I start to let my mind wander or talk about needing an adrenalin rush. He gets it. He feels it too and rather than question my commitment to the life we’ve built, he makes suggestions or plays along until my mind and heart settle again and my state of hyperactivity subsides.

Just the other night while I was bouncing off the kitchen walls and he was trying to focus on creating an amazing chicken curry I said, “Kim, I’m going nuts. I need to do something crazy.”

He looked up from the steam of coconut milk and garlic with a naughty grin lifting the corners of his lips. “Oh really,” he said. “I thought you were planning a skydiving adventure with friends but if that’s not going to work out, I have an idea.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked. “Do tell!”

“I think you should take a lover.”

“That’s a fantastic idea. You won’t mind?”

“Not at all. Just make sure it’s a woman and you bring her home to share!”

Um, yea, he apparently has been dreaming a bit too.

I just started reading, for the third or fourth time, Deborah Tannen’s book, That’s Not What I Meant. How Conversational Style Makes or Breaks Relationships. Communication fascinates me and the first time I read Tannen’s book it was assigned as part of a college sociology class. I remember feeling captivated, enlightened and nodding my head in affirmation through each passage and chapter.

Every time I’ve read the book I’ve taken away something different, something relevant to whatever is going on in my professional or personal life at the time. Monday I started reading it again for two reasons…I have a new client who’s conversational style is much different than my own and I want to build the relationship. Second, I find myself struggling with a new awareness in my marriage.

You already know there’s a significant age difference between my husband and I. Other people most likely have given our 27-year number gap more thought than I have over the 14+ years we’ve been together, but recently I’ve begun to contemplate, to become aware in ways I never anticipated. I want to talk about how I feel and what I think, after all…I’m a woman and therefore hard-wired to make sense of my world through conversation. It’s a difficult conversation to have with friends, with my husband, with myself.

I think most of us first become aware of people we love aging with our parents. We expect parents to go through certain life stages and different realities long before we do. We anticipate our parents will require different circumstances, care and understanding while we’re still young enough to provide certain comforts. We don’t learn in the natural course of events to anticipate those same changes in our spouse long before we’re experiencing them ourselves.

I remember when Kim and I first got together, he clearly explained numerous times that, “Tricia, one day I’ll be an old man and you’ll still be a fairly young woman. It’s not fair for me to ask that of you.” Of course I reassured him and said it was my choice to make, it was my future too and that I understood what I was signing up for. He believed me. I believed me. I was 23.

Given the opportunity again today, even with the growing awareness I have of how different our realities will eventually become, I’d make the decision all over again to stay with him. I don’t have any sense of regret or remorse, and I certainly have no intention or desire to bail so let’s put that on the table just in case you’re wondering where I’m headed with this conversation. What I do need is to find a new kind of peace with this growing sense of mortality and the small age-related changes I’m observing that with time will become more pronounced.

Finding that peace is where my struggle begins, and it’s where differences in conversational style become acute and cumbersome. Broaching the subject with my husband is delicate. Regardless of the words I use, he HEARS what he told me all those years ago… that one day he’d be aging while I was still young, and he feels guilty for having anticipated it, yet still moving forward with the relationship. That guilt creates a filter through which my words need grease and meaning becomes much more subjective than I intend. When he responds, I’m also filtering his words through that previous conversation and the guilt I have for even bringing this up since after all…we discussed this before we committed to each other. What right do I have to bring this up now. And I know he can’t help but wonder if I say it out loud, does that mean I’m going to abandon him simply because he’s experiencing things he has no control over…he’s progressing through life just as he should and what right do I have to acknowledge the observations? It makes everyone uncomfortable.

Yet here I am…a woman…hard wired to make sense of my world through conversation.

Perhaps the longer a couple is together the more filters we construct, the more webs of unintended consequences we create where every carelessly strung together sentence carries a whisper of some previous conversation, a  call-to-action in our brain to read between non-existent lines. As my husband and I figure out how to talk through a new awareness, I’m quite sure I have to think twice about how my words are delivered and how they’re heard. The phrases I choose and their delivery will hurt or caress when my intent is simply to communicate my truth.

What about you dear friends. Have you recently had a difficult conversation, broached a challenging topic and found you needed to think twice about how preconceptions or internal dialogue is interfering with how your words are heard?

“Tricia, I know everything about you,” said Kim. “I know when you’re happy, when you’re sad, when you’re annoyed and when you’re struggling in your mind with something. You’re struggling right now and I just want you to know I love you no matter what and even if you don’t want to talk about it, I know.”

To which my smart-ass-self replied, “If you know me that well, it’s time to trade you in for a new husband. We’ve obviously been married too long and there’s no mystery left.”

He gave me one of his funny I’m really trying to be patient looks and then smiled and wrapped me in a giant hug.

When Kim and I first started living together, he was traveling almost constantly. One day he’d be in Hong Kong and the next he’d be in Spain. Weeks apart were challenging, but the reunions were always intense. The idea that absence makes the heart grow fonder certainly held true. We spent as much time missing each other as we did enjoying shared space, and it was that longing that inspired some of our early years.  When he stopped traveling internationally, I wondered and worried if changing the dynamics of our relationship so abruptly would cause significant harm, and how our marriage would continue to grow when we were all of a sudden in the same city every day.

Then he retired from his corporate gig. I started a company and we both began working from home. Not only were we all of a sudden eating dinner together every night, we were in the same physical structure every day, all day long. It was an adjustment.

The other day I read an article, Reasons to ‘unfriend’ your spouse on Facebook Can status updates kill a sex life? Maybe it’s time to bring back the mystery. Since Kim recently joined Facebook and we’ve been stalking each other through cyberspace arguing online about politics, current events and what ever else piques our combined ire, I read the article and laughed a bit at the idea of our online taunting being the demise of our relationship and intimacy, but it also made me wonder what it is that keeps two people intrigued with each other year after year after year.

Quoted from the article, “Fred complains that every time his wife posts something to her Super Wall, he realizes just how boring their lives have become. “Do I really need to know that my wife is about to do something totally nutty like go have a second cappuccino? What happened to the wild woman I fell in love with?”

Of course the Facebook complaints are only an example of what the article’s author claims to be symptomatic of familiarity breeding contempt. I’m not sure I agree with him…

“We need to constantly cultivate a sense of newness and novelty in our relationships and defend vigilantly against forces that work against it, like your spouse’s Super Wall. If you think back to those early days of your relationship and the first throes of romance, there was a time when you didn’t know every little thing your partner was thinking or doing, when the pursuit of knowing each other drove you to new levels of desire and passion.”

The cultivation of novelty is attractive in a punch-drunk kind of way, but it’s not fulfilling. I like that my husband and I have years of history together; that we understand the nuance of a head tilt or misplaced phrase. I’m comforted as well as exhilarated to know a relationship can continue to grow and deepen the longer two people remain together rather than assuming it’ll stagnate if we’re not playing guessing games. I’m wholly attracted to my husband because we know each other better than perhaps anyone else could ever hope to know us.

For me, the personal growth we both desire keeps us engaged. If either of us decided to stop seeking knowledge or stopped challenging each other intellectually, that in fact would be our demise. It’s not that Kim can set his watch by my afternoon coffee run or that I know which magazines are piled on his bathroom floor that will  be our unhinging. Those mundane every-day trivia are rather comforting in my world and his. I understand what the author was trying to pass along as insight, but I can’t help but wonder why we should think there’s more value in what’s new than there is in knowing.

What do you think?

My husband, being the retired corporate executive that he is, and whose mind is trained to create strategy, keeps prompting me to stop spending time in the how and to give myself up to the what…traveling without a destination…all you do is continue to travel. I know, I know.

I’m unsure why this is like forcing my mind to give birth, but it is, and I’m still laboring.

First, I simply insisted I wanted to continue using my writing and communication skills to help clients achieve their business goals, and to be able to make a significant financial contribution to my family in the process. I’ve been doing this for several years and although I’ve been successful and enjoy my work, it doesn’t fulfill me.

I started writing a book about the three generations of women in my family who are survivors of child abuse and I realized the pot simmering on the back burner of my mind could provide a purpose if I’d turn off the fire long enough to spoon out a serving.

So of course I decided I wanted to be Oprah. Since I’m a white, married woman with a child and I’m not fond of being in front of a camera, this seemed just a little unlikely.

Knocking it back a notch, I realized what the people closest to me have known all along. I want to use my writing skills and experiences to become a defining voice in the fight against domestic violence and child abuse.

Purpose…I think I’m getting closer.

He took the bait but not three minutes into the conversation he was already frustrated with my position and was about to end his opposition by ending the conversation.

“Listen,” I said. “I really need to have brain sex with you right now, so just calm down and have a nice argument with me.”

Which he did, and being the compassionate lover that he is, the ensuing debate included him grabbing a pad of paper, illustrating his stance with graphs and diagrams and suavely countering each point I scored.

Thanks, Dear! I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.

I’ve been incredibly fortunate over the last academic year to have clicked with two other moms from my son’s school. Between the three of us we have five 5-year-old boys. Getting together is crazy amounts of fun that normally includes at least one skinned knee, pockets full of insects and half a truck of watermelon.

Since these friendships are relatively new, we’re still learning about what makes each other tick—our hot buttons, philosophies, experiences and passions. Ironically, Facebook has provided insights that in a previous unwired generation would have taken years to gather.

One of us routinely posts links to articles with specific political ideologies and current events. One of us gathers and shares a mother load of information about health and nutrition, and one of us randomly posts links and information about domestic violence and child abuse (guess who). We all throw items up on the walls related to education, and since all five boys will be in the same Montessori kindergarten next year, it’s fair to say our ideas about education jingle and jive. These women are funny, politically-up-to-date, well-read and intelligent, and the absolutely critical component—they share my penchant for sarcasm and sangria. We can go on and on for hours discussing everything kid related, or nothing kid related at all. It’s like intellectual lesbianism.

Why am I telling you about these new, budding friendships? Well, in many ways these two women have really made me think and provided an opportunity for a change of heart (No, it has nothing to do with the fact that one of them lovingly referred to me as a Starbucks whore on Facebook). Both women are stay-at-home moms. Like many well-educated Gen X women, they’ve opted out of the workforce to raise their children and focus on their families. Their SAHM status would normally make them unlikely friendship candidates, but somehow, for some reason, there’s simply none of that cranky condensation from either side of the fence. And you know what, I love it.

I love that we can support each other’s choices, lend an ear or a hand, and not require we share the same working status. We can empathize without an expectation to walk in the other’s shoes and in those moments when they get it and I get it and we share it, they’re restoring my faith in what women can bring to each other’s lives…one glass of sangria at a time.

It’s not all fun and pony tails though. You know how you start to go a little batty when you try to grow your hair out? You get to a point when you’re not sure you can stand the awkward length for one more second. You start asking yourself why the heck your tresses should be long when it just means you constantly wear those silky locks in an up do. Wouldn’t it just be easier to hack it all off again?

Unsure of which little inside voice to follow, I made the mistake of asking my husband for his opinion.

“Well,” he started with a smirk. “When your hair is long it makes your face look thinner and when your hair is short you always look so young.”

What am I supposed to do with that? Now I’m contemplating growing it down to my butt to see if it makes my hips look thinner, or shaving it off entirely to see if I’ll start getting carded again.

As his hearing deteriorates, I’m looking forward to the day when he no longer complains that I snore. He’ll simply be unable to hear my nighttime melodies. I’ll no longer have to endure middle-of-the-night rib pokes and early-morning jokes comparing my sleeping songs to a runaway locomotive.

There’s no other time in a woman’s life when she can acceptably nag her husband and he won’t mind. After all, he won’t remember I’ve already lodged a similar complaint, requested a particular change or cajoled a favor. And since I’ve most likely been complaining about the same things for 14 years with no real hope he’ll embrace certain suggestions, the likelihood of behavioral manifestation is slim. At least now I can continue to voice minor dismay, which as every woman knows…the sound of our own voice at least makes us feel better, and my husband can continue as his adorable self, unscathed by my nitpicking. In fact, he may even occasionally thank me for providing constant reminders and he’ll find them helpful rather than annoying.

Life is good.

After about 30 days of blogging, my goal-oriented self started to determinedly question the purpose of Shout. I’ve always felt like this space should be dedicated to something more than my motherly musings or personal insanities, and that something should be niche specific. I’ve never been able to put my finger on that something, or that niche, and I’ve continued to muddy my way through several hundred posts with no clear purpose. I know many of us blog for the community, the fun, the search for a lighter, humorous moment, or we often say, I write for me. I love those pursuits too. Whatever you desire, I’m quite sure you can find it in the land of blog.

I’ve started to think of this place as an ongoing conversation with friends. Similar to meeting for a cup of leaded java in the local coffee shop, we jump from topic to topic. We question, inspire and support. We contemplate issues related to parenting, family dynamics, interpersonal communications, social norms and dilemmas, and varied other subjects that find their way from my mind to my keyboard to your screen. There are days when I write well and there are days when I throw up a picture of my child and pretend it’s a post. Most of the time my efforts net somewhere in the middle. Shout has a small audience. Most days that’s just fine. Some days I wonder why. I take it personally; shoot my Achilles heel and stomp bloodied all over my writer’s confidence.

I know it’s boring to read a blogger in crisis-waving her fist and questioning her intent. I’m not doing that. There’s a point here, it’s just taking me a minute to get to it. The process of writing for Shout has become sweet in itself, but every writer wants an audience. I happen to be a rather altruistic personality, sometimes naive, too often sarcastic, but always contemplative and full of desire to create change and to learn. I love debate and the process of communication, but most important I’m rather passionate about a few things and Shout has helped me to better discover myself, with your help.

Blog awards are like little hugs floating around out there and every now and then I’m lucky enough to bump into one. Like hugging a stranger, blog awards make me nervous though. Well, that’s not entirely true. I love receiving them—it’s a nod of acceptance, a point of bliss…actuality that someone really is reading labors of love. It feeds my writer’s appetite for audience. Just as I can never choose a favorite movie or song, the act of passing awards along to other bloggers always leaves me feeling inadequate, and that’s what makes me nervous.

Monday, Smart Mouth Broad presented an award to me and several other bloggers that included some interesting directions, and it intrigues me.

The recipient of this award is recognized for the following:
1) The Blogger manifests exemplary attitude, respecting the nuances that pervades amongst different cultures and beliefs.
2) The Blog contents inspire; strives to encourage, and offers solutions.
3) There is a clear purpose at the Blog; one that fosters a better understanding on Social, Political, Economic, the Arts, Culture, Sciences, and Beliefs.
4) The Blog is refreshing and creative.
5) The Blogger promotes friendship and positive thinking.

The Blogger who receives this award will need to perform the following steps:
1) Create a Post with a mention and link to the person who presented the Noblesse Oblige Award.
2) The Award Conditions must be displayed at the Post.
3) Write a short article about what the Blog has thus far achieved – preferably citing one or more older posts to support.
4) The Blogger must present the Noblesse Oblige Award in concurrence with the Award conditions.
5) Blogger must display the Award at any location at the Blog.

Of course being my sarcastic, self-depreciating self, my first instinct was to blow that part about achievement off and find some way to turn that little idea into a joke. But this morning I started thinking about it in a different light. I actually have achieved several things by writing for Shout and this is a great opportunity to remind myself that I’m making a tiny difference in my small part of the world and in my own life. That adds up to something. That matters to me, and really that’s why I write.

It’s not all been peaches. We had a rather significant dual in our immediate family over some early posts I wrote about people in my step family. My brother has stopped talking to me because of my blog, and it’s been more than a year. I miss him, but I’m going to keep writing.

With hindsight’s help and in no particular order, here are a couple of things that I’m pretty proud of and why I’ll keep blogging, regardless of audience size or family shenanigans. These are the kinds of things that make me tick.

• Writing here has helped me make peace with my infertility, and it has fostered friendships with people who share the same demons—people I’d never have met otherwise.
• Bare Naked, a 3-part series on family violence is one of the most-read pieces on Shout. More than three thousand people have read it, and extremely gratifying to me—many, many, many people have landed on the articles with Google searches for things like… my husband won’t stop shouting at me or I can’t control my anger toward my wife and I’ve seen them click through to the pages of Men Stopping Violence for resource links and help.
• I’ve received multiple emails saying I’ve touched someone’s life, made them think or to say thanks for my honesty about adultery, family violence, child sexual abuse, or infertility, and often the person has gone on to share with me their own story of grief or resolutions. I cherish those connections. They humble me, and I’m honored by your trust.
• I’ve already had multiple search engine hits on the posts for the Beautiful Like Me project as people look for information about helping children develop self esteem and embrace differences, which reminds me—we really need to add a list of resources to the project page.
• I’ve gained so much more than I’ve given and I’ve learned a tremendous amount. The people who stop by here always give me something to think about. I love that about you.
• Shout was a catalyst for my mom starting in therapy. No joke. I keep telling her I’m going to get her a T-shirt that reads, My daughter blogs so I’m seeing a shrink. Some of the conversations and things I’ve written about here on Shout opened a dialogue she and I needed to have for a long time, and as a result we’re closer, more bonded, and she’s doing some necessary things for herself. I’m incredibly proud of her for that, and really honored that she continues to read even when she probably wants to reach through the computer and strangle me (like right now).

I think most important to me, writing here has given me a voice. It’s a small voice and it rambles and starts and stops and sings off tune, but it’s a voice. More than just saying Life is too short to be quiet, I’m writing it, and that matters to me. I truly believe from my head to my toes that when one voice speaks, others join and collectively we make a positive difference in each others lives by the simple act of having conversations.

My family taught me to play my cards close, to keep secrets and to keep dirty laundry neatly tucked out of view. I know those were unintentional messages, but they were rampant. I know the exact opposite is what sets us free, creates change and fosters courage. Thanks for taking these little journeys with me, and thanks to Smart Mouth Broad for providing an opportunity for self reflection. Today, I’m pretty happy to be a blogger and to be in such good company. I’m honored that you read what I write and that you care enough to comment or email or to simply ponder with me.

I’m Wondering on Wednesday: When was the last time you were presented an opportunity for self reflection, and did you like what you see?

I’m Wondering on Wednesday: When was the last time you felt this happy and free?