A couple of posts down, where I confessed trying to Google information about my ex’s new ladyfriend, Jennifer asked if my ex reads my blog.

Hell no. That would be the short answer.

The long answer is more complicated, of course. Part of the reason that starting this blog and writing again after such a long hiatus has been so cathartic for me is that my ex never really “got” why I write, or appreciated anything I wrote. I’ve always found that puzzling, given that he is a bibliophile… but he doesn’t want real life in his readings, and I’m kind of a Real Life type. I don’t write sci-fi, therefore I write nothing that interests him. Shortly before our marriage started its final descent, a couple of years ago, I entered the American Mothers, Inc., yearly Arts Competition. My essay took first place in the state, second place nationally. “That’s great,” was his response. That was all.

So, no, he doesn’t read my blog. I doubt he reads any blogs at all. He doesn’t have a single inkling that I am writing again, and I won’t be the one to tell him. If I had to guess, I’d say that some of the stuff I write here might upset him. But the ratio of incriminating, embarrassing things I could reveal about him to the items I’ve actually shared herein is overwhelmingly in his favor. I think he’d realize that; and if he didn’t, I wouldn’t much care.

However, the deeper, implied question here is one I’m now considering. Who does read my blog, and how do I censor myself, if at all? Would I be horrified if, say, my ex somehow did find my blog? There are enough troublemakers in the world that it’s not impossible that someone will someday put together enough puzzle pieces and appoint themselves the Character Police and alert him that I’ve been talking about him. Would that devastate me?

Um, no. I talk about my ex here. I talk about my kids here. I talk about my friends here. Sometimes I talk about my parents here. I strive to censor as little as possible, but neither do I print anything that I would be horrified to have the people in question read. At the same time, I don’t use real names of people unable to consent to being discussed (either because of age or oblivion). If someone’s out there Googling me, they’re unlikely to find my blog. Despite my previous suspicions to the contrary, it turns out that I am not, in fact, the only Miriam in the world, or even in New England. But say someone hunts me down and finds my blog. They’ve found me. What then?

That’s great.

I’m grateful for every person that takes the time to read what I write. This blog allows me to keep my folks updated on the day-to-day, stay in touch with friends who are busy and/or far away, blow off steam, chronicle my journey, re-acquaint myself with my love of writing, and meet many amazing folks whom I otherwise wouldn’t even know existed. As far as I know, that’s why I‘m here writing.

According to my stats program, for every comment I receive there are over 10 readers who remain silent. So tell me, readers… you’re in my bloggerhood… why are you here reading?