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It’s been two weeks since I posted something here, and while that something was an AWESOME photo of Small Meg (who was probably more fun than Not-So-Small Meg), it’s probably about time I get off my cyberduff and write.

Back when I started blogging, the days that I was sad or disappointed made me want to write more. Like most people who write for love (and money, on occasion), the act of committing my heart to the screen was cathartic, cheering, helpful… well, essentially, it felt right. “Publish” would set my mood straight.

Now that I’ve been doing this for almost five years (though just three here), I don’t find that same sort of release. Not because anyone has been anything less than supportive when I pour out my guts, but simply because my life is more complicated and involved than it used to be. I have always had much to be thankful for, and a million supportive people in my life — most notably the Refresher of the title of this post, and his lovely wife, the Co-Refresher — but now there is a person in my life that I worry about hurting if I can’t come up with anything but sad.

It would always hurt my family and friends to read about things I was struggling with, of course. There’s no doubt in my mind. But most of them could wander down a hallway or drive an hour, and they would be right there to ply me with french fries or sing-alongs, or just a hug and the right words spoken to my round little face. Most of them still can, and they do, if they sense that’s what I need.

But he is 3,000 miles away, dealing with his own struggles, looking for work and keeping everything afloat. And he, more so than anyone I know (my dad is pointing to himself right now, not to be outdone by some punk from Boston) feels responsible for the joy in my day, for my satisfaction in the future, for my sense of hope. And he, more so than anyone who loves me, feels incredibly far away and stuck when I am not okay.

Granted, when I am upset about anything, I’ll call him in a heartbeat, or crank up the iChat, or send a text or email just to say that I wish he was here.

There’s something bigger about putting it in a post, though. There’s something that sinks a little deeper and makes us both feel a little more helplessly apart. Something that feels like I’m denying how happy he makes me if I admit that life isn’t always marshmallows and unicorns and pink flip flops.

Or so I was thinking.

So I thought.

But now I realize how silly that is.

How silly it is for me to think that he would want me to be anything but my own, wordy, chatty, meandering, verbally/textually processing self. How silly it is for me to forget that one of the first things that drew him to me was that I wasn’t afraid to be honest about how I felt, for better or for worse. How silly it is for me to not write when I am working through things, in the same way it would be silly for him not to find exactly the song that spoke to his mood and disappear into the notes for a few minutes… because that is how he copes.

We become better people when we find the person who is to be our person, and we do change in some ways — the ways you need to change to fit comfortably with another person — but if we change everything, then we stop being the person they loved in the first place.

The person Gradon loves is hopeless at writing a short blog post.

The person Gradon loves can write a Love List and a Grrr List in the same day.

The person Gradon loves is far from perfect, but gets better with every sentence she squeezes out of her brain.

It’s been a tough couple of months for us, and for me. Gradon has been fantastic, and my parents? There for me in more ways than I can express.

It’s also been an amazing year for all of us. I have been given so much and continue to receive giant bagfuls of joy and opportunity from many quarters.

And I am going to tell you about all of it.

Not tonight, though, because tonight I am going to make some maple-y, lemon-y baked salmon and eat enough potatoes to knock my Irish ancestors on their shamrocks. And watch television. And say goodnight to my East coast geek.

And feel both sad and lucky. But mostly blessed.

Thanks for reading.