I love this city (Anchorage). I love that walking from my friend’s house to the grocery store means walking along a heavily wooded path next to a bountiful river. Everything is so lush and beautiful.
The people are so kind. People are talking to me every day. I don’t have to initiate every pick up conversation!!!
I want to bring my family here to meet the city. My kids point out “We’d have to spend a winter there before we even thought about moving there.” I love my kids. They are brilliant. They are forward thinking and wise.
The food here is shockingly good. My previous Alaska experience (in Yakutat and Ketchikan) involved a lot of… not so good food. The pho place is delicious! The fruit quality is way higher than I expected. The salad greens aren’t nasty. I’m doing pretty well for food. Still pooping pretty. ha
I miss the woods. I’ve lived in dry or desert for so long. I miss water.
BTW- I decided not to ask my friend for permission to use his name. He’s famous and I don’t choose to name drop. That’s a level of star-fuckery I don’t need to mess with. He’s my wonderful friend and I’m blessed to know him. I don’t need to try and link my name to his on google.
He’s famous because he puts himself out there and he shares his experiences and he’s willing to grow in public. He’s a fantastic teacher. I learn so much in conversations with him. I feel deeply blessed that so many of the most fascinating people of my generation are willing to talk to me.
I had a funny thought yesterday. I have felt for years that my children are pretty much the reason I have stuck around and really dug into life. I have felt like there wasn’t ever really a place for me until I was EC & FMC’s mom.
My friends remind me that I have a lot of gifts to offer the world. The world doesn’t have a precarved out position for me… like being EC & FMC’s mom… but I have a lot to offer. The world doesn’t have much to give anyone; the world wants to know what you have to give to others. The world doesn’t care what you need.
I could have made a life. I could have carved out a Krissy shaped hole in the world that would have been impossible to fill when I die because people can’t duplicate one another. There is enough need in this world that I can fill… I could have made a place.
But I’m so much happier getting to be a mom. I take pride in my children being stubborn and challenging and inconvenient. I take joy from seeing them move out into the world while needing me less and less. I’m grateful that they still are very sad to go eight whole days without snuggling me.
I do matter to them. Their day is actively worse when I’m not present. There is a Krissy shaped hole in my house right now.
And yeah… it’s still centered around what I have to give. That’s true. But on days when I’m at empty and I have almost nothing to give? There is still a Krissy shaped spot where they want me.
When random strangers judge how “functional” they perceive me to be… I am getting better at taking a deep breathe and recognizing that they have no scope for my life.
I think of Jenny telling me that she knows how far I’ve come.
Am I perfect? Oh fuck no. I’m a train wreck in motion. But I’m causing less damage over time. I’m making healthier choices. I’m better aware of how my actions impact people and I consider that more seriously.
I’m more honest about the fact that I am chronically mentally and physically ill. There are days when I can’t do/be/give much. The world wouldn’t take much pity on me for this. Some… but not a lot. My family thinks that giving me extra support sometimes on bad days is balanced out by the good days. There is still space for me to be appreciated even when I’m a loser who can’t work.
How much work do you have to be able to do in order to deserve life? How much do you have to give before you count as “doing well”? What does “functional” mean anyway?
We had a delightful chat tonight about polyamory pitfalls. I was very blunt about how badly I fucked up last year. My phrasing was very close to, “I started as a cheating piece of shit and I ended feeling like an abusive monster. I had a banner year! And then he wanted to get me pregnant. Because I’m not the only masochist in my house.”
My friend is such a good listener and he is one of the least judgy people on the planet. We all make fucked up choices sometimes. Look at why you broke down and make changes to ensure that won’t happen again. Life is about getting back up when you fall down. We all fall down…
I think that some people believe that in order to be “doing well” you have to not fall down anymore.
We all start from different places and with different potential and different talents and different problems and…
I think I’m going to periodically fuck up royally until the day I die. Even if I live to be 95. I don’t think I’ll ever figure out how to be perfect. I’m going to keep fucking up. (Partially because I have every intention of continuing to meet new people at a blistering pace as long as I can. It keeps you young.)
Oh man, speaking of fresh opportunities to fuck up… The kind folks I’m visiting listened to the end of my explanation of my fucking up and I got to the part where I talked about the unicorn hunting we may do some year in the distant future. Their response was, “Oh! You want _______! I’ll ship him to you!”
Very kind offer darling. Not this decade.
I’m not saying I’m opposed permanently… just… not the now.
He does sound right up Noah’s alley. And that’s going to be a big part of unicorn hunting for us. Why do I call it unicorn hunting? Because asshole couples (like us) want to go find hot bisexual people for no strings attached sex. And there are a lot of asshole couples like us and very very very few humans who enjoy being a third. Thus: unicorns. They can be of any gender. Cause life is awesome!
I told my friends that I think we’ve shot ourselves in the foot when it comes to hunting in the pool of our local friends. They saw the drama explosion and got to read a play by play of the screaming matches at home that lasted for months. Who the fuck wants to step in that mess?
Hey. I’m totally up front about the level of crazy you are getting with me.
Yeah. I should be asleep. It’s 11pm here so it’s 12 pm at home. BUT I DO NOT ENJOY SLEEPING ALONE IN A ROOM WITH NO ONE TOUCHING ME. THIS IS HORRIBLE AND A HALF. I shoulda brought a kid. Maybe just one kid would have been enough of a vacation….
I mean… I did bring a kid… but the current one is only the size of a lemon and just starting to play bumper cars with my internal organs. It’s different. I think this is going to be the longest I have gone without snuggles……. since I got married? Probably when I lived alone before I moved in with Noah. The last solo trip to NY before I got married even involved pick up sex with the swinger who showed up at the bdsm con. And I snuggled my ex-girlfriend then. And a whole bunch of cuddle friends.
Yeah it must be when I lived alone after Puppy dumped me. 2006.
Wow… my life is different. I had… forgotten what skin hunger felt like. Oh Noah honey. The road trip must have been so shitty for you. What an incredible gift you gave us. We’ll never leave you behind like that again. This is hard.
I feel so lucky that I get to have a family so that I can deal with this aching need to not only be touched to meet today’s need… but be touched a lot to start filling in the damage of years of lack of healthy touch.
“Baby’s aren’t Prozac.” Err… uhm… that’s uhm. Ok. No they aren’t a little pill. They are people. People create the opportunity for relationships. Relationships release brain chemicals that improve peoples moods. Babies are a blank slate to teach someone how you want to be in a relationship. If you do it in a healthy way… it’s fantastic for both of you. If you are narcissistic or so traumatized/disabled/(fill in the blank reason) you cannot teach someone how to be in a healthy relationship… it’s catastrophic.
I consult an awful lot of professionals about my children because I’m fucking terrified of doing it wrong. Does that mean I’m doing it right? No. It means I’m probably not going to go off the rails too badly and damage my children in similar patterns to my family history. Because professionals are good at watching for patterns like that. It’s their job. They ain’t emotionally invested in me. They ain’t my friends. They want what is best for my family because that is how they service their community. Which means *I’m* not always the important consideration. I think that is healthy.
I am not a victim in my life. I am a privileged participant. You can have a traumatic history and not be a victim. I still have impairments that I’m trying to deal with as a result of my history. I’m still not a victim any more.
With every year I discover more about what it means to be in my story. I have come a long way.
I had another of those experiences where I ask someone, “Did you have x kind of experience?” and they go “Oh yeah” and I go “So how do you deal with a, b, and c backlash from d and e happening?”
WHAT IS THE CONSISTENT RESPONSE TO THIS?! “Oh wow. Not like that. No.”
I keep trying to find folks who can help me map some of the next stages of where I want to go in terms of behavioral/emotional modification. I really don’t think anyone has done what I want to do. Not exactly. Not with my background. Not who got as far as I’ve already gotten with the deficits I think I will be able to figure out how to overcome.
I don’t think anyone exists.
“You’re obsessed with being unique.” I actually broke up with my shrink without ever discussing this. I just… let it go.
The more I recognize that I’m not much like anyone else the more free I feel. I really get to just decide whoever the fuck I want to be because there aren’t models out there. Most people like me just die. But I haven’t. And I don’t think I will any time soon bar a freak accident.
Do you know how weird that feels deep in the pit of my belly? I believe I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for the long-haul. I have children to raise. I have a database to help build. I have people to learn from. I have things I want to do. I’m going to do a lot of things. I mean… that’s not in question. It’s not an idle boast. It’s a simple statement of fact.
Holy shit. I believe that.
“Babies aren’t Prozac” but the first year of my daughter’s life was the most euphoric I have ever been and I’ve done some damn good drugs.
I need my children partially because they need me to be an autonomous human being with drives and interests of my own. I may not act on that in the same way as other mothers… but that doesn’t make my way wrong. It is ok to be culturally out of step. I live in a place where diverse cultures are supposed to be expected.
I’m finally starting to get sleepy. I miss my Noah.
I wanted a chance to miss them. Well, I’m getting it. Sigh.
I feel like a rabbit that is going to dart back into its burrow where it feels safe. But first it’s going to eat some clover and roll over on the grass and enjoy some sun and…
Tomorrow I am going to go to the museum and discover what the locals mean when they say “drinking chocolate”. Err, that’ll be at a separate location… not in the museum. Apparently B was invited to come to an event at the local Hard Rock Cafe tomorrow night so uhhh that’ll be my second time ever at a HRC.
I wanna try the fried chicken. But I guess not tomorrow. Maybe Friday. Saturday I get to see one of Jenny’s aunts. I look forward to that. It’ll be a chance to hear a side of the family lore that I’ve never heard before. Given how much I love Jenny’s mom… that’s a super big treat for me. I’ll be so good.
Pam partially inspires such devotion from me because she includes me in her family. She shares the beautiful words her parents say. She shares her fun, sweet sister. She believes there is a Krissy shaped hole in her family and she is happy to pull me right into it.
See, I don’t just use my relationships with my babies as my Prozac. I know I need to diversify my sources and shit.
I’ve got some really good people. I’m a ridiculously lucky person.
I wouldn’t bring my kids to this house… but I feel like I’d probably be welcome back after some reasonable interval. I don’t burn every bridge to the ground. I may have yelled at R’s dad… but he totally earned it. Not everyone does! Even I can get along with reasonable people.
I have no patience for old jack asses who expect me to be impressed by who they are banging.
I’m still pissy with SM for telling me that he invited me to speak at an event because Noah is cool and Noah married me so he guesses I must be cool. Oh and can you please not talk about any of the things you spend all of your time talking about? M’kay?
Naw. I’m out.
My schtick is complicated as fuck, yo. Layers. Like an onion. I’ll make you cry. But only occasionally. I hope.
Or maybe instead of crying you spend time laughing. I don’t know what.
I can’t control what other people hear. I can control what I type out. But I can’t control the distortions and perceptions and past experiences people bring to reading. No matter how poetically I scream into the void… the void does whatever the fuck it wants to do.