After the daughter designed & sketched it, we carved this one tonight, then roasted the seeds. We spent the rest of the evening eating home-made burgers, fries, popcorn and a bit of candy before watching The Great Pumpkin and a couple of old Disney Halloween videos.

We're dropping the Biscuit off at her Mom's early tomorrow afternoon so she can go trick-or-treating with them this year, so we'll be here to decorate the house and hand out candy. Hopefully, there won't be a lot of kids so we can eat it ourselves. On a scale of 1-10, the house will be at a meager 2 or 3, as opposed to the hard 8 I generally attempt. I gave away 90% of my decorations when I moved. We'll see how much I can do with little time and virtually no materials tomorrow when I get off at 5:30.

My mom seems to think I have a melancholy disposition at times, and I think she's probably right, especially around holidays and my birthday. I've had some rough Christmases, and birthdays, and a bad Halloween or two. I guess tonight I'm trying not to focus on the past and let myself enjoy the present, which isn't as easy it it ought to be sometimes, even (especially) when everything looking up. I suppose it's the devil trying to ruin a time of happiness, but I'm not going to give him the satisfaction, even it does match nicely with the periodic sadness that seems to dwell within my Irish blood. Maybe that's why I like to fight so much, huh?

I wonder if the music I listen to when I'm writing has en effect on it as well; I tend to listen to more somber or thoughtful music when I write - perhaps that has an effect on me as well. I suppose it makes the words flow out a lot more easily; it keeps the part of my brain that tries to censor what I;m saying quiet and occupied, like playing solitaire when you're really thinking. I don't know if the music re-hashes what was being imprinted on my brain when I was listening to it last, or if it simply brings forth thought that I already have. Revealing or remembering - there's a question, huh? I think I once heard it said that the closest thing we have to a time machine is music, and I agree with that wholeheartedly. So is it the music that brings it back, or is it the music that brings it out? I don't have the answer to that one.

One thing here - it's a feeling I'm talking about; s mental state, generally of thoughtfulness, and I think I can more accurately write what I'm feeling, and be more introspective and honest with myself; I'm not thinking of anybody in particular - just wanted to be clear on that one.

For what it's worth - and my mom pointed this out - it can't be easy for my wife to have to read a lot of what I write here, though it's by no means a secret or any kind of a surprise to her. I know it has to erode her confidence in my love for her, and it has to cause her to question (or even doubt) elements of our relationship. I know it has to have the same effect on you guys as well, but it's my wife that suffers the most when I have days like the ones I've been having; days when she has to be the one to watch me clean out my old wounds again; wounds that, by all measures, should have healed a long time ago. Holes from bullets that have passed through and moved on still ache, wounds from blades that have since been cleaned, re-sheathed and used again still bleed.

I don't know how to handle that, guys. I don't know whether to write about it and not publish it, or stop trying to write about it, or what, if anything, to do differently. See, if I don't hit "publish", then it feels like a secret; something I have to hide, and I have enough of that already; those tendencies to conceal my thoughts, instincts and feelings, or do my best to kill them outright before they can mature enough to hurt. I don't a solution; journaling just seems like a way to keep a secret written down; this (blogging) seems more like a way to prevent a secret from having any kind of a hold on you at all; it keeps me from hiding my feelings; from being fake, from being a liar, from lying to myself or anybody else.

But at what cost?

Is this a detriment to my marriage? Is the cost of keeping myself honest, clean and healthy too great? Is there a better way? Or is it necessary for me to write what I write and say what I say, because it keeps me open, honest and real, especially to my wife? I have to count the cost, and hope for her grace and understanding, both of which she seems to have in boundless supply. She's loyal and strong as all hell.

Don't make the foolish mistake that for weakness or passivity or her being a doormat or some overly submissive wife; extending grace and mercy to one who seemingly needs it in spades is more of a sign of strength than cutting them off out of pride or drawing a line in the dirt and saying it's me or this for the sake of proving that you're tough enough to stand up for yourself. Unfortunately, it seems like "this" is a large part of when keeps me healthy, sane, sober and real, and keeps my communication open with her, and I think she understands that, moreso than most. At least, she's given me more grace, unconditional love and forgiveness than any other person I've ever met, and that means more to me that I can ever put words to. So don't think she's just some hopelessly whipped, beaten-down woman desperate and stupid for staying with a guy that treats her like crap - she's not. In that regard, she's stronger that anybody else I've met, as her grace abounds mightily, and though she struggles with what I say here -and she does- don't think for a minute that she's not strong enough to handle it, and don't think for an instant that it doesn't mean the world to me when she still loves, accepts and shows kindness to me after I say the difficult things that most folks are afraid to say to themselves, much less others.

I guess that's an abrupt stopping point, but it where I am; my heart still experiences emotions I can't understand, or explain, but it still (and always will) know where it's home it, and will always be. No matter how many times it may ache with wonder about what's on the other side of the fence, it knows beyond the shadow of a doubt which side of the fence it belongs on, on which side home it, family is, love is, and life is.

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