My husband found both of my blogs last night, which was inevitable. I'm not sure whether I'm keeping this one because everyone will have to hold back or measure their comments and I will have to be careful about what I say, which sort of defeats the purpose of a journal. I won’t be able to honestly express my feelings without being fearful of making him angry or hurt.
He found my old blog before, and made me delete it, which is why I lost all of my comments from my first year--and my readers. I republished SwedeHart Stories, My first year (AKA Jessika’s Journal), but it’s naked. The conversations were what made it more interesting.
This morning, I found out that porn site pigs stole my old listing for Jessika’s Journal at blogwise and even one of my old blog entries—word for word, but they added a sentence at the end. Please, don't reward them by clicking on their link list.
My husband questions every moment of my day. I have to explain every minute. He checks my voicemail and my phone bill several times a day. If I don’t answer my cell phone he becomes suspicious. If I accidentally leave it in my car and he cannot reach me he comes unglued. He packs a gigantic bag of clothes and walks out of the front door only to return and interrogate me. Part of me loves him—and part of me is terrified of him.
The frustrating thing is that I gave up on finding someone who makes me feel happy and safe. I had a brief relationship that was sweet and valuable to me, but it ended almost two years ago.
My feelings for my husband kept me from crossing the bridge into a new relationship. I never stopped wondering if I made a mistake by trying to mend things with my volatile husband, but I tried to make him happy.
I gave up AOL, chatrooms and flirtations. I rarely go out other than to shop, walk in the park or work out at the gym. My life is boring. I want to take salsa and ballroom dancing lessons and join a book club. I want to take writing and art classes and learn to give a sensational Swedish massage. I can’t even go out of my front door without feeling guilty and nervous. It’s difficult for me to leave for any reason without being concerned that he’ll give me a hard time or even become furious.
I didn't sleep much last night even though my husband whispered, “I promise I’ll never hurt you mentally or physically again.” into my ear after I turned out the light. His words brought me some relief and I began to sobbing into my pillow. I was high strung from defending myself for two hours.
I’m uncertain about his sincerity.
After our last marital issue, we made up. He was kinder to me than he has ever been. I liked him for the first time. He was complimentary and gentlemanly and loving. However, four days later a week of temper tantrums and threats to leave again followed, despite the fact that I had done nothing to set him off.
I can't decide whether to stay with him or just let go. We’ve both been living with indecision for a long time.
I believe in romance, love and monogamy. I grew up in a fairly conservative family and went to Lutheran church every week. Most Swedes are Lutheran, but don't really observe their traditional faith. I have tried to become more open minded as I’ve gotten older. I admire the Scandinavian lifestyle, which seems to be more enlightened and laid back, but I'm not a hippie. Hippies are yucky. They don't shower, shave or get haircuts regularly and they wear peasant clothes.
I prefer a classic look. I like wearing fancy dresses, hats, coats, jewels, high heels and perfume. I like high end designers and restaurants. I love feeling glamorous. However, I am just as happy wearing t-shirts, jeans and sneakers. I also enjoy playing sports or games and being in casual places. I can be fun and relaxed, but I know how to carry myself like a lady.
I'm so confused. Did you ever feel like there was more than one side to you and you weren't sure which one was the real you?
I think that most people have conflicted feelings about things. I have a wild imagination. My head is full of fun fantasies and ideas. I think that they are all me.