I don’t think I know “the right answer” for other people. For one thing, I am not very capable of understanding the limitations of other peoples lives. They are simply not visible to me.
I have been basically alone my whole life. Until seven years ago. Up to that point I did not spend enough time with anyone to calibrate to their needs. It is a particular blind spot for me. And Noah is… different from other people. The things he needs me to consider and dance around are few and far between and way far away from other peoples boundaries.
When people ask me for advice I often wonder why they want to hear my opinion anyway. Everything I think is going to be irrelevant to your life for one reason or another. What I say will be “wrong” for you.
I feel sad.
Apparently we misunderstood some pieces of what we heard this weekend. We do that, individually and collectively. Things are changing but I don’t know how.
I was talking to the only person I talk to every day (other than Noah and the kids) about feelings of intimacy and friendships. I think that people sometimes feel closer to me than they otherwise might because they have been reading my blog for a while (maybe a long while.)
But that’s like staring at someone through a one way mirror and calling it a relationship.
I don’t know very many people. Not well. Not many people are willing to spend enough time with me for me to calibrate. They can’t handle the adjustment process. They need more space. But I’m still supposed to be the one pursuing the friendship even though I’m periodically told to back off. I’m just supposed to take it as a pause and then restart the onslaught of trying to beg someone to be my friend.
I don’t know very many people. I don’t know what you like or want or think. I don’t know what is right for you or your family. I have no earthly idea. I don’t understand why you do anything at all.
The person I talk to every day told me, “People who don’t show up much are not people you need to think of as “friends”. They are part of your community and you may love them but you don’t need to think of them as friends. Your friends show up without you having to ask and ask.”
Are you sure? Then I haven’t had a lot of friends… ever. All of my relationships are about me asking and asking and asking for time. I don’t get asked much. I never have. The main people who have ever asked me for time have been men. That’s part of why I have been raped so many times. Those were the only people who wanted to spend time with me. And that was the cost of admission.
These days I do get specifically invited to a lot of home school events. But that doesn’t exactly feel like *I* am being invited. I am welcome to bring my kids to be friends with their kids as long as I can keep my mouth appropriate enough to not get kicked out.
Coming off an anxiety medication I have been on for years is hurting physically and emotionally. I feel so sad and so worthless.
Shanna was mad at me last night and she told me she wanted to throw me in the trash. Kids do that kind of thing. She doesn’t “mean it” and I’m “not supposed to react”.
Story of my fucking life
Maybe if there hadn’t been so many people who said that to me maybe it would feel more like a joke and instead of like my place in the world.
And I can’t react to that today. I can’t cry or freak out in front of her. I have to more or less treat it like it didn’t happen. Kids say stupid shit and parents can’t hound them for it. That’s not developmentally appropriate.
I’m hoping that some year of my life I won’t have to swallow these things and then be nice to the people who say them to me.
I want to cut. But I was told that I couldn’t do it until next year. Not during the holiday season. I agreed. And no, I’m not willing to go on a medication that would take the “high” our of cutting. The drug would cause me pain basically ALL the time to prevent me having a positive feeling from an action I do rarely and only with great need. Doesn’t that sound self-hating to anyone else?
Hurt yourself all day every day so that you can never feel relief from pain no matter what you do.
I’d rather kill myself and I’m using fucking hyperbole. If someone forced me on to a medication that was as awful as this one sounds I don’t think I could bear that.
I already hurt too much. I don’t need things that add to my daily ambient constant pain. I can’t bear it. I am pretty much at capacity.
I feel so worthless.
My sister’s birthday is coming up. A little less than three weeks. She will be turning 44. I wonder if I will ever see her again.
I think it’s time for me to stop trying to make friends. I think I need to stop inviting people. I can’t. I hurt so much. Sure, I’m a selfish piece of shit. Tell me something new.
It is going to be very hard over the next few years to manage my kids. That is going to take my spoons. All of them. And more. And I do not have reserves. And I don’t have a good back up plan. I don’t have the spoons to keep trying to make them when other people change what they are up for.
I get what people have left over. I am not a priority to be arranged around. If they have nothing better to do I’m what is left. That isn’t because anyone is doing anything mean to me–they aren’t. That’s life. Everyone has to put on their own oxygen mask. I understand. I don’t even think I’m bitter. Just sad.
These are the holes where my mom and my sister should be. But they aren’t. Because just like I used to pay the price of being raped for the illusion of “friends” I had to pay the price of being abused to have the illusion of “family”.
I can’t expose my children to that kind of reality.
We sat down yesterday and talking about screaming and yelling in the house. Collectively all of us need to just stop. We agreed that we will have a tally sheet on the door to the garage (we see that space a lot). Every time you get too loud you get a point. The person with the fewest number of points gets to pick breakfast the next day. (Noah is kinda getting a cheat because he goes to work most days…)
That’s proactive, non punishing, and gives the kids something to strive for that they want. They like deciding breakfast. They pick very different things than Noah or I. Eventually, if they make progress we may eat a lot more cereal and pie for breakfast. I can live with that.
Being able to just say “point” in response to raised voices is deescalating by itself. “I’m acknowledging what you are doing and asking for it to stop.” All with one word. Fabulous.
I am scared that I am going to pour everything I have into being nice to my kids and I still won’t be nice enough. I will still hurt them badly just because I am bad.
I should stay off the internet today. I’m in one of those compulsively checking every website stage. I’m looking for connection I’m not going to find.