Oh really

With the sudden spike in hits I assume that opposing lawyer is still checking my blog. Hey dude. You know, as rude as you were… you could have been worse. I get that you were doing your job. I just regret that you picked a job that wants you to be a soul sucking toad weasel.

Today is hopefully going to result in a massive drop in pain for me. Massage, chiro, acupuncture. Bring me allll the treatment. Pleeeeeeeeeeease.

Medical care is magical. Everyone should have access to this shit.

After medical care we get to go to a neighbor kid’s birthday party. Then go over the hill to drop off tile. Then hang out with friends who live over there who are kind enough to visit us regularly so we really have to make an effort. No shirking on folks who put that much effort into you.

I haven’t said this in writing yet. There’s trouble with the Bonus Family. Specifically with the Bonus Mama. I don’t know that I will be mentioning their family in connection to mine anymore.

Of course I have terrible guilt over this. I don’t think I did anything wrong and I would repeat my actions again. People have different opinions and needs and evaluations of stuff. Life is hard.

I think frequently of the relationships that have ended in the last few years. Godmamas. A. My shaman. Now the Bonus Family.

With the Godmamas I actively asked to help over and over; I was told no. Then I was told I was not deserving of a relationship with them because I didn’t help. Ok then. A… I drew him diagrams detailing why I needed help instead of to have an adult man show up and expect me to baby him. He was used to our friendship where he made almost $100,000/year and I made $14,000/year and I should pay to take care of him because he’s special or some shit. I don’t feel bad about telling him I was done being used. I had no more to give. My shaman told me that my children had to be submissive to him and he would ask them if they wanted sex when they were 18. I made the right damn choice. The Bonus Family… well… in a few years I’ll talk about what went down. For now I can’t.

I don’t regret my behavior or word choice. I think I said and did what I needed to. Life involves evolution of relationships and friendships. It’s true for everyone, not just me. What is weird about me is that I write all this shit down. It’s not that weird that it happens.

Yesterday I scrubbed the walls and ceiling in the hallway. I didn’t putty because I think I let the construction workers borrow my tub of putty and now it is gone (they only needed a tiny bit to dab on a hole). They also stole my ladder. This is irritating. Oh well. Another trip to Home Depot.


I also did laundry and dishes.

I took the kids on a bike ride to REI (Eldest Child needed a new helmet because her previous helmet was purchased when she was three. Her head has grown a bit) and Home Depot. It was surprisingly fun. I think the kids are close to being capable of doing bikes as transportation in town. Squee!

I’ve worked hard over the past few years to carve out a life for us within a radius of 3 miles from our house. My kids will be able to ride bikes to access all their classes and most of their fun in a few months. We just need a tiny bit more practice. How much longer until Eldest Child rides her bike all over town going to classes and camps? I think not long. She’s reaching for independence. More and more often I ask the kids if I can drop them off or if I need to sit at their class and they leap from the car waving. “I’m independent! Go away!”

This is fascinating from children who declare loudly and insistently that they do not want to go to school because it would mean they spent less time with me. We are all unsure what we actually want. We want to be together; we want space. We don’t know what we want. We want to be together while having space. Frankly that’s a lot of how our days go. We scatter to different rooms of the house to each have a little bit of space and we rotate around who is in which room. Sometimes we all converge on a room. Then we meander off to do something else again. But none of us want to leave the house very often.

I spend a lot of time feeling incredulous that I have managed to become part of a group. We are tight. We like each other and enjoy one another’s company and we talk all fucking day long. I mean, we have wonky moments too… but overall this is the most compatible group I’ve ever stood next to in my life.

No one else has ever had an interest in normalizing off of me.

That’s not true. But no one else has ever spent this kind of time and energy trying to normalize off of me. Ok, that is true. This is my one shot for being part of a group like this. I never had the group identity thing from hobbies or schools or my family. Now I do.

It feels a lot more ok that I don’t need to be liked by other people. I am liked enough by my family.

My kids can say, and believe it, that no one pleases everyone. They have a strong internalized belief that it is ok for people to like or dislike them and they should carry on as they are.

Please yourself. Everyone else has to worry about pleasing themselves. It is not your job to make sure other people are pleased. That’s their business. Don’t be a dick, but don’t bend over backwards either. Be. Don’t worry about pleasing.

You please me enough to make up for hundreds of millions of people disliking you. Cause really, do you have to interact with them or me?

It is the strangest god damn thing in the universe to teach these kinds of perspectives and beliefs when I have crushing mental illness issues that has me sobbing for weeks at a time because somebody doesn’t like me.

Oh good fucking grief.

I’m getting better. I’m learning from me over time. I’m getting to the point where if I have a problem in an area I turn to reframe it from a different point of view in my life.

I can’t possibly express how big of a deal it is that Sarah is still in my life and touching base with me frequently to help me find equilibrium. Sarah has been one of the people I speak to the most often for 13 years and counting. We’ve had big, difficult problems and worked them out. Like magic. No, like people who love each other very much and who desperately want to figure out how to treat one another right so we can have a healthy and loving and supportive relationship. We do a lot better than we used to. I do better than I used to.

I am going to spend the rest of my life working on behavior patterns. I have to not bully people. I have to not railroad people. It will take conscious effort… probably forever. I have a fucktastically strong personality. I have to work at being respectful. It doesn’t come naturally. But I want it. I want to be respectful so bad that I ache with it. I improve with time but I’m still not where I want to be.

And there will always be a big gap between my idea of acceptable (Hey, if I’m hurting my kids I bloody well expect my friends to call me on it) and what other people want to hear. I have to live with that. It’s ok. People are allowed to have different beliefs. I don’t have to interact with them. There are seven fucking billion people on this planet. If connection with you isn’t working out: next.

It’s not nice. But it is real.

Life goes on. We keep breathing and moving and doing stuff. We build new connections and relationships or we wither.

I want to grow.

Eldest Child is plowing through the Life of Fred math books. They are kind of weird. They don’t teach math in a linear fashion in the manner of school. Instead it teaches math through weird stories and many levels of conceptual math all at once. They talk about advanced concepts very early on with ideas instead of numbers. How do you put this list of stuffed animals together like a mathematical figure sort of stuff. I’m surprised by how much she likes it and how fast she’s progressing.

I was starting to really worry that I was fucking my kid up by not forcing academics before she was ready. Because she was pretty behind. She’s not behind anymore. She really did have to mature into this. I’m glad I gave her space. I’m so happy I didn’t allow my control-freak-nature drive this part of our relationship. I let her decide and now she’s ready. So she’s taking off like a shot and she’s really excited about everything she’s learning. She is super enthusiastic about how much she loves math and science and history and reading and art and writing and…

Because she got here when she was ready with the amount and kind of support she needed. I remember being convinced already at that age that I was too stupid to do art or math and I was “bad” at science and…

I’m not a stupid person. As an adult I’m fairly god damn conscious that I’m anything but stupid. Hell, around the time I was 8 was when I finally was given an IQ test. That should have convinced me that I was smart, right? The numbers were pretty damn flattering. But no, maybe I had a brain that started out with potential but I just happened to not be able to learn all of these subjects. The only thing I could do was read fast.

For so many years I cried and cried and cried because I believed that literally the only thing in the world I could do well was read fast. My mom spent a fair bit of time trying to convince me that it was in fact a positive trait. It was a good thing. It would pay off. Thank you, mama.

It really has paid off.

I no longer believe I have one talent. I’m a Jill of All Trades. I can do a lot of shit. I’m pretty damn handy.

But my children have never been told they are bad at art or science or math or… I say, “You are where you are today. If you don’t know something yet, you will.” When my kids hit a period where they are frustrated with themselves for lacking the finesse they wish they already have I say, “The thing standing between where you are right now and this thing you want is hundreds of hours of practice. Now, you can complain while you do the practice and still get there and we’ll all be miserable; or you can chill the fuck out and realize that you are doing great for your age and you will be better with time. Your choice.”

And you know what? I honestly accept that sometimes you have to bitch a lot while you practice because the practice step sucks so much ass. I get that. There are days when a kid has to bitch. On those days I wear ear plugs and I separate the kids. We muddle through and do ok with that.

There are days when life is totally fucking frustrating. We try to give one another space for that. It isn’t personal. There is nothing that other people can do to save you from the fact that some days just kinda suck. Yup. Get through it. We will forgive you and let it go. Tomorrow is another day and all that rot.

Sometimes I look at my relationship with my children and I feel utterly confident that we will still want to have a relationship in 40 years. Then I think that my mother was probably equally confident 10 years into her 15 year marriage.

Shit. I can’t get complaisant. There is still room for everything to blow up sky high. My mom’s life looked like it would be pretty damn stable 10 years into marriage. How did that turn out?

I don’t know if my mom is ok or not and I may never know again.

Build up my kids. Give them the confidence to choose relationships that make them feel good about themselves. Teach them how to evaluate how people treat them.

Teach them that if someone says they want space you don’t come back and knock on the door and say, “Was that enough space yet? Are you over it?” No. You give people god damn space. It’s respectful.

I do want to be respectful. I don’t want to always say what you want to hear…. but that’s different. Sometimes being respectful of a larger situation means saying things that aren’t fun to hear.

I get called on my shit. I totally fuck up. I’m not trying to sit on a high horse or throw stones from my glass house or be a pot calling a kettle black or whatever. Metaphor, simile, trite cliche, whatever.

I don’t even know. Rawr. I’m on day 48 of my cycle. I’m not pregnant. I’m just… not bleeding. This is getting annoying. This knowledge is hanging over my head and bothering me more and more. In previous skipping-a-period months I’ve had 53 or 58 day cycles. So I’ll make an ob/gyn appt if I’m not bleeding by day 60. Cause come on body. I’m too young for the change. But my period tracker says that my cycle range isn’t normal. Meh. Stress will do this to a body. One more week until we get arbitration results. Wheeeee.

I appreciate the friends who are thanking me for writing again. I’m glad you missed me.

(I’m going to have to go back and tag all these damn journal entries one of these days. The very thought makes me weep.)

2 thoughts on “Oh really

  1. Taylor Shogren

    I think you’re awesome, just figured I’d let you know while I was catching up on the blog 🙂

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