Move on

I have to wait until the kids are properly awake to strike camp. Time to move on. I’m not really looking forward to taking down a wet tent and then putting it back up today. Right this minute I’m feeling really stupid and despondent. WHY AM I DOING THIS TRIP?!

Because we are having a lot of really good moments. Once I get up and get moving and the work is mostly through I will be happy I’m doing this again. Right this minute feels hard. I’m waiting to work. I’m not good at that. The kids are asleep and I’m awake and I’d like to just hurry up already. That feeling never does good things for my mood.

We don’t have to be out of our spot for 4.5 more hours. I don’t need to be antsy. Including breakfast, dishes, and packing camp we can do it all in 2 hours max. Of course, I’m going to talk to my shrink on the phone today for an hour. So we have 3.5 hours to pack. I don’t need to be anxious. That’s still almost twice as much time as I need.

But I’m anxious.

I’m anxious about a lot of things. I’m anxious because I tried very hard to build a support network and pieces of it are falling away.

Which is stupid. I wanted that to happen. I wanted to separate the wheat from the chaff and that’s happening and… I’m feeling bad.

I frequently get the feeling “so and so isn’t actually my friend.” Mostly I ignore myself because I’m so paranoid. Then I do something and find out I’m right that those folks weren’t my friend and I should have listened to my gut.

It is hard listening to my gut. My gut tells me that people aren’t trustworthy or believable unless they FUCKING PROVE IT FOR A DECADE. But treating people that way doesn’t result in people feeling good about a relationship with you.

In another year or so I will feel like the home school group was a temporary measure. I won’t feel so bad. But it’s going to take a while before I stop feeling bad about getting assaulted being swept under the rug.

I’m going to have some bad feelings.

I am having trouble getting over “it’s not as bad as you claim”. You don’t fucking know and I am really upset that you feel that I am unreliable narrator. My problem tends to be under rating issues. And you are telling me that I’m exaggerating.

I’m really upset. This is pretty much exactly what I expected and is why I mostly walked away from the group months ago. I should have just walked away entirely then. I should have known. I should have known that these people don’t care about my safety.

When I spent months planning to overlap at Disney World only to get to the point of making actual reservations and she says, “Oh we made other plans to go to ____ and _____ on vacation so we aren’t going with you.”

You couldn’t just tell me that up front? You’ve been planning with me for months. Then you changed your mind and didn’t bother to tell me?

Yeah, you aren’t my friend. I feel used.

For years now I’ve been compromising on how I want to spend my time and where I want to go. The groups goals are not much like mine. I’m done compromising.

I’m tired of planning around people who want to control every aspect of the people around them… only they might flake at the last second and no one will show up and you have to smile about it any way.

I’m done. I’m frustrated and angry. And I’m also having feelings about camping.

THIS IS WHY I DID NOT WANT TO DEAL WITH THIS FUCKING DRAMA WHILE I WAS TRAVELING. THANKS A FUCKING LOT.

I WAS TO THE POINT WHERE I WAS NO LONGER RANTING ALL THE TIME. I WAS MOVING ON. FUCK YOU.

I feel like I was walking away from the group and someone went and got a water cannon to shoot at the back of my head to remind me that I’m not wanted and I should hurry up.

I want to curl up in Noah’s arms and cry for hours. Which is still a somewhat novel experience. I don’t know that we are up to a dozen times. I’m private about my crying. Maybe a dozen by now? Surely not two dozen. After almost 9 years of marriage and I’ve known him longer than that and I cry so much…

Today I want to be hugged.

I think one of the reasons I shun Noah’s hugs when I’m crying is because Noah doesn’t pretend he can fix my problems. Sometimes I kind of hate him for that. It means that when I’m upset my reptilian brain doesn’t want him. I want to feel safe and protected and he isn’t going to protect me. I have to protect me.

Right now I don’t want to feel protected I just don’t want to feel alone. I feel really bad when I’m sitting between my children and I feel alone. I feel ashamed of myself. Like I don’t appreciate the good things I have.

I do appreciate them. But they can only see a small slice of who I am. I am having to be “on” in terms of managing my personality pretty much all the time. I can’t get disruptive or problematic when I’m in a strange environment alone with my children. So I feel squashed, held in, invisible.

But I did my little bit for civil disobedience and I did steal the confederate flag hanky that was decorating a statue. I did it when everyone was asleep.

You don’t get to advertise for the confederacy on the anniversary of my country declaring independence. Nope, nope, nope. That’s like saying, “I know that I’m part of this country but I wish I was part of this other racist country instead.” Nope. Y’all fucking lost.

I wonder if I feel so wildly uncomfortable here because I haven’t seen many non-white people and I see a lot of white supremacist tattoos. I’m not letting my kids play with their kids. I feel guilty for it… but I don’t care. I don’t know what that person will do or say if my kids start spouting their political beliefs. I’m keeping my kids away from them.

Which is mixed. I feel guilty. AND YET. Choices have consequences. If you choose to get a tattoo on your body glorifying the Third Reich then my kids aren’t playing with your kids. Nope. Even if it makes me an asshole.

I think you have to draw the line somewhere. I draw the line at glorifying genocide. I don’t need to get to know you to find out if you aren’t a piece of shit. I know enough.

Next 6 days in South Dakota, but spread across three camp sites. Not one of these luxurious long stays. Short hops.

Then we get to Duluth. In Duluth I need to have the car serviced and all the bedding cleaned. I’m tired of smelling like pee. I love you children, but you are gross.

It isn’t anyone else’s fault I have big feelings. But sometimes I don’t like you very much for being near my big feelings anyway. Am I actually dangerous or violent? Meh. Sorta. I’m very verbally difficult. If you come to my blog you will feel flooded with my negative feelings.

Have you noticed how I speak very little of this out loud in person? I know it isn’t “acceptable”. But I feel it and I won’t pretend I don’t because you want to feel better. Especially when you want to feel better about telling me that you don’t believe me when I describe my lived experiences.

Your feelings need to be entirely unimportant here. You need to not matter at all.

The fact that y’all spoke behind my back and decided you didn’t believe me? Well y’all can be dead to me. I won’t deliberately stand in the same room as you again. I’m tired of not being believed. I’m not much of a liar. I tend to under state my problems as a coping method. If you want to act like I over react to everything… fine. Stay the fuck away from me. You’re dangerous.

I feel very unsafe and attacked. I’m not even supposed to talk about being assaulted because the piece of shit who assaults me deserves privacy? Go straight to hell. How dare you act like you can send me an email to tell me that I shouldn’t be talking about people in public. IS THIS HIGH SCHOOL?! WHY DO YOU THINK YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT TO SAY OR NOT SAY?!

People have been trying to control me for a long time. Everyone failed.

I’m the dangerous one. He’s the little fuckwad who will kick people in the throat, but *I’m* dangerous.

What fucking ever.