The whiny one.

Or
The Things We Think and Do Not Say

Remember that? It was the title of Jerry McGuire’s “Mission statement.” You know, the one that got him fired and thus set the whole story in motion. I loved that movie. And I always particularly liked the title of Jerry’s little memo. It appropriately jumps into my head when I’m thinking something I know better than to say. Such as, “Did you mean to do that to your hair?” or “You’re gonna marry him?” or lately, “Can we go back to America now?”

We all do it. We have thoughts we have no control over. Even the nicest girl (ahem) has thoughts that aren’t so nice. Does that mean her nice exterior is a fraud? Is she really just as bitchy as the next chick? Or does her guilt about said thoughts atone for the thoughts themselves, therefore redeeming her niceness? It’s tricky, see? What makes someone nice? How they act or how they think? And then there are those girls who whole heartedly embrace their bitchiness – they allow it to define them the way I have defined myself with this nice-girl routine. I envy those girls. In fact, my best friends are usually those girls. I love to hear them vocalize my inner thoughts. To hear Katie say that Janine looks like she let a blind guy do her makeup and not have to admit that I’ve had the very same thought about Janine (because that would be mean), well, it’s liberating somehow.

I’m straying off course. The thing is, despite my protests to the contrary, I am having secret remorseful thoughts about my move to Africa. I don’t even believe in regrets, but I’m having these terrible thoughts. The things we think but do not say.

It’s pointless, I realize that. And I’m sure it’s temporary too. Everyone has second thoughts about big decisions right? It’s like I said months ago, my grass has always looked greener elsewhere…and this is no different. I suppose the only thing that’s remarkable about this particular hidden thought is the very fact that I feel the need to keep it hidden. But who am I hiding it from? My family? My friends? Why? If I’ve learned anything so far on this planet it’s that my friends and family will always love and support me…and they’ll never say I told you so. They might think it (the things we think but do not say!), but they’ll love me no matter what, and even if I came crawling home after only a year in Africa, I believe most of them would still respect me and the choices I have made.

And yet, I am terrified to say it out loud.

I suppose, I am most afraid of sharing my secret regret with my husband. Certainly, we all have a tendency to keep our darkest thoughts hidden, but for me, when I found Roger I found the one person to whom I could reveal everything. No secrets. And yet suddenly, I can’t have a conversation with the love of my life without biting my tongue in fear that “the things we think but do not say” will slip out of my mouth. Because I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want him to worry. I don’t want him to be angry.

Okay, yes. As most of you know, Roger is very aware of this blog, so if I actually find the courage to publish this much too personal whine-fest, well, the big secret will be out. Not that it’s much of a secret anyway. If I’m honest with myself, and if Roger could be honest, we’ve both known for awhile that I feel this way; we just haven’t said it out loud. We don’t discuss it – probably because there is nothing to be done about it. We’re here. We’ve started a life. And we’re okay, I guess.

This is when I miss my girlfriends. If Katie was here we would analyze the situation for hours, and although it wouldn’t change anything, it would make me feel better simply to have fleshed things out. But because the very definition of man is “problem solver,” to discuss all these feelings with Roger would be a futile experience. He would get frustrated because there is no solution. Why talk about a problem with no answer? We can’t pack up and move home at the moment. In a few years, yes. But not now.

God, even if we could…would I want to move home right now? The answer seems obvious, and yet, I think I’m enjoying all of this forced introspection. I feel like I’m growing…or something. So while I may want to go home, maybe I’m not ready just yet. The thought is definitely there, but when it comes down to it – I suppose I wouldn’t change my current situation. It’s like therapy…it’s not fun, but it’s good for you. It’s probably not, however, good for you, the ‘audience’ of this little blog. I know there must be limits to your tolerance of my inner drama. I can only imagine your secret thoughts: “God, would she just get over herself already!” On the other hand, part of me has to believe that at least a few of you are enjoying my overly introspective ramblings…right?

Okay, well just in case, I promise to be more entertaining next week.
I’ll try anyway.