I’m thinking about the definitions of words again. Words like safety, morality, consent, health, appropriate.
I’m getting better, I think, at recognizing that my freak outs are my body going “Not for me” instead of “How dare you do that.”
I don’t actually care what you do with your life. I know I over react sometimes. I’m sorry. I’m imagining what I would have to do to accomplish that and…
Yeah. I over react. It’s not very nice of me. I’m sorry.
I’m getting better but it is still annoying.
What is healthy for you is not healthy for me and that is ok.
What was healthy for me is not healthy anymore and that is ok.
What is healthy for me now is not very healthy for you so you shouldn’t do it and that’s ok too.
Negotiating is hard. How do you ask for what you want when you aren’t exactly sure what it is? Mistakes suck. They hurt. Recovering from them takes work and effort.
Life is a constant renegotiation. We never arrive at “done” until our life is done. You never know what might happen to you in the future. Your health could improve or decline. Your life could blow up or magically come together. Who forking knows.
Today I feel like I have no idea what my future will be like. But I’m sure glad I will get to do it with Noah and my kids. These people make me think that whatever it is… it’ll be ok.
Some day I probably won’t have so much extra money. I will have to dramatically change what I do with my time and how I manage my spoons. I’m afraid of that time but I know I will find a way to make it ok. I’m plucky like that. I have good reason to strive forward now. I want this. I want them.
I feel grateful to the tips of my toes that I get to spend so much time snuggling with my children. This time will pass. I want every minute of you sitting on top of me I can get. I want every single hour of lying next to one another that can exist. You are growing so fast. You will leave me. You will grow up and move on and that will be right.
I just get this for a little while. I have so much pain to make up for.
I shit you not I would keep having kids to drag this feeling out if I could. I feel like this is one of the things I have done best in my whole life. I spend time with my kids. I guide them and instruct them and let them do what they need to do to grow up. Are they perfect? No. There is no such thing as perfection. If they were perfect I would hate them for it. Let’s be honest.
I need them to be flawed and wonderful and ok. Because I need to see that it is ok for people to be like that. So maybe it is ok that I exist.
We are all kinda flawed and broken. We are all racing towards death on our own pathway. It’s ok. That’s what meat-creatures do.
What will I be like when I grow up?
I kinda reacted like a viper when someone said that I should be done growing up by now after x years of knowing an individual.
You know what, motherfucker, I don’t give a flying fuck what you think about my maturity. I have been in a safe environment for ten years. That’s it. I have not yet had enough time to undo twenty-five years of trauma and if you think I should hurry up you can put it in your pipe and smoke it.
I fucking hope I outrun my Eldest Child but I sorta doubt I will manage.
I am learning compassion for myself on this journey. That’s probably a good thing and a big deal. I’ve had ten years to undo a lot of specific trauma. Yeah. That’s not enough time. Go talk to the experts. It’s not enough time. This is hard. It peels off in layers. I fix one problem developmentally then I move right on to the next problem. I keep going though because I get bored of having the same problem.
I like new and exciting problems.
Speaking of which, I think I have messed up every stage of ordering stuff for this bathroom because I didn’t check measurements when I ordered. Well fuck. I get to live with it.
Uhm… yeah. I’ll do this differently next time.
Please sweet Jesus let there never be a next time.
I’m just sayin’.
I kinda wish Noah was mad at me for breaking a rule. He kinda sorta is. My shrink was shocked that he wasn’t pissed off. Yeah, he doesn’t piss off easily. It takes work. I know! I’ve tested these limits extensively.
How do I keep Noah exciting when he is the safest thing ever? That’s a trick. I’m thinking hard about it. The sex is still good. Everything else is trickier in a marriage, though. Well. That’s another think my shrink gushes about. She can’t believe how happy I am with my sex life. She says I am an anomaly in her therapy career. I say, “Yeah how many big sluts have you seen? That practice pays off.” She laughs.
She doesn’t answer though. That’s professional.
I don’t have bad sex unless I decide to. Because I’m that good. I do decide to have bad sex once in a while for complicated reasons. It’s never an accident any more. Well. Ok I’ve had obnoxious interruptions… but that’s not the same.
Why? Because if I’m not done I’ll tell you exactly what to do so that I can get done. And I ain’t fucking subtle. “Ok, this position hurts. I want you to twist your upper body like this…”
Hey you are responsible for the sex you have. If you want it to be good, speak the fuck up.
Nobody can read minds.
I’m sure there are genuinely bad lovers out there who can’t be taught. I haven’t ever decided it was worth my while to date one. I don’t see the upside.
I need to go to a kid class now. I so don’t wanna. I want to sit still till next Tuesday. Sigh. On we go.