Monthly Archives: May 2026

Drifting back

Sometimes I feel guilty while I read Tamora Pierce. Bonus Mama introduced me to this author so the association is strong. I am sad I didn’t get to stay in the lives of her children. I loved them a lot. I will never see them again and that’s hard.

Mostly though I am finding it amusing that I didn’t want to read the second book from Sandry because wealthy perfect princesses are not my speed. I also skipped the second Daja book because her students were pampered rich obnoxious people. I’m having a lot of class issues in my head, that’s for sure.

Noah’s birthday is soon. I feel like a mass of anxiety. I am not functioning well. My productivity is in the toilet. It’s hard to not beat myself up over it. I really struggle with failing as a worker bee.

Stuff with the kids is all over the place. It would have been a surprise to me if you had said that by 16/18 MC would be bigger, stronger, and more consistently capable than EC. EC’s health absolutely sucks. He has 3-4 productive days in a week and then he often crashes the other days. I don’t mean he is lazy. I mean his joints don’t work properly and he can’t stand upright. He falls down on a regular basis. He looks like a marionette because his body hangs so bizarrely. I worry a lot about him. I think he is going to struggle as an adult. I am grateful I don’t need to kick him out at 18 to make his way alone. I think it would go quite poorly.

MC is not enjoying how poorly this term is going at theatre. I think it is a good learning experience. Suffering is a lesson. They are really stepping up as the most able bodied human in the house. They now do nearly all the dishes and kitchen clean up. It has made my life so much better. They don’t do any other chores, but this is an acceptable trade in our house. We cook a lot.

YC is on my last nerve. Why did I move to a country where I’m not allowed to beat her?!?! (Because I do not believe in beating children and I’m glad the state agrees with me. BUT SHE IS SO ANNOYING. Deep breathing, Krissy.) I struggle with the period of time where kids are transitioning from being incompetent to being competent but they have not yet internalised self control. It’s rough. Now she is like 5,028% more capable of being annoying. This is when Noah and I used to do a lot of tag teaming. As someone felt frustrated or overwhelmed the other stepped in. I’m struggling with this on my own.

YC is grounded for the second time in her life. The first time she obeyed the limits and the grounding was short and sweet and didn’t drag on. This time she keeps breaking the rules. I am very clear with my kids that I don’t like grounding. It happens when I am on the verge of losing my shit and going too far from accumulated stress and frustration. This is giving me time out to calm my nervous system down. I am having a hard time because she is pushing really hard against following restrictions. I get it. Being grounded sucks. Breaking the rules and sneaking out constantly until we have to have a person on duty babysitting your door or standing next to you all day is uhm… not great. It doesn’t give me the space to calm down that I need. It escalates my vigilance requirements. I am not having a good time. If I can’t stand at the door I need to use an exercise band to hold the door closed so I can do crazy things like go to the bathroom. Or she will sneak out and get into things.

I know this is developmental. I know that to a large degree she has no self control yet. Our life is different from other peoples lives. If I don’t teach my kids lessons who will? They are not part of the normal mill of human enculturation. They have to learn that I mean it when I say no. They have to learn that there are consequences for out of boundary behaviour. We are being clear all day every day: she is grounded because she needs to learn that smearing food all over the house is unacceptable. I can’t find open cans of juice/soda in every drawer of the house. I can’t find ramen and muffins stuffed through all the baskets of toys. I can’t have sweetened condensed milk spread all over the closet and the clothes that are in there. No. Just no. That’s not an acceptable behaviour pattern and we are going on a year of it. Food stays at the table. Food stays at the table. Food stays at the table. I’m not saying you can’t sit and eat a can of sweetened condensed milk, I’m saying you can’t create four loads of laundry while destroying the wood in the closet.

I am communicating the lesson that most of the time you have a fun life with much goodness and freedom and independence. Don’t fuck it up for yourself by making problems for other people. You don’t need to be perfect but you can’t destroy property willy nilly and it’s not fair to waste that quantity of food. Over the past month she has wasted/played with/spread around close to £40 worth of food. This is way out of control. No.

So she’s been grounded since the 15th of May. It started out as 3 days of grounding. She is still grounded because she was doing things like sneaking out of her room to get a pile of books. Sometimes she went and got snacks and tried to hide them in her room. At this point I took the furniture out of her room so she has nowhere to hide anything. I’m freakin serious. You will follow the restrictions for the named time period or you can stay grounded forever and all our lives will be miserable. I do not fucking play. My older kids have been telling her, “Mom is going to win this battle of wills. You do not want to find out how long she can last.” My oldest was only grounded twice but the second one was really epic. My second kid was grounded at least four times. I can’t remember the exact number. I don’t do it a lot given how old the big kids are now but I forking mean it when I do it.

It’s harder to feel justified this time. I feel a lot more paranoid about how maybe I’m going too far. I am certainly surrounded by friends who would not parent this way. But their kids all have different lives. We are such a bizarre little pod away from humanity. I tell my children quite frankly that we come from blood lines of people who struggle with addictive behaviour and anti-social behaviour. If I address it hard and fast when they are young then they develop the sense that you should only break rules when it is really important. It has worked well with my first two kids. We are close and we have intensely respectful relationships that have not involved any kind of punishment in many years. Everyone has to try me a couple of times when they are young.

This seems healthy and normal to me. Sure, my way seems overly strict to people on first glance. That’s a funny contrast with how permissive I seem compared to the average the rest of the time. You can have a looooooooot of rope to run with but when you reach the boundary you need to stop or it’s going to hurt. (Not like I am going to smack you hurt. Like you are going to be so bored you feel like you are losing your mind for a couple of days.) I feel the need to defensively include that we have long conversations during the day about why the specific rule that is being broken is necessary and unacceptable to break. We talk a lot about how I am not saying they are bad people or undeserving of love. I am saying that behaviour is unacceptable and must stop. If you need help stopping I will help you but neither of us will have fun. It’s better for you to stop yourself. You will feel in your bones that it is better for you to stop yourself.

While grounded you still get morning snuggles and hugs and kisses and lots of positive attention during the day. This is not a stonewall of angry seething. I am more prone to being bitchy and complaining about stupid stuff. You are making me do a bunch of oppressive work to ground you. I hate this. Don’t make me do stuff I hate and we can get along just fine. I am praying we hurry up and get through this in a timely fashion. Please stop making it longer kid. Please. Please. Please. I am, of course, keeping my therapist up to date with this. They understand why I am doing this and they are glad I am setting limits in a way that is not overly punitive. She isn’t being harmed, she is having some of the good things be less available for a while. I am not making her feel like life has no value. I am showing her that when I say no I really mean it. I need her to be able to trust me. This is how I earn that trust. I don’t like the cost of being consistent. I like having kids who believe me when I say something. That means I can never bluff.

This is helping to create a different hurdle for Gentleman and I to run into. When I’m in a lot of pain and I’m grumpy and I feel frustrated with the kids leading to feeling a lot of shame for my impatience with the kids I stop being particularly good at initiating sex. I feel empty and like I lack anything interesting to offer. I certainly can’t run the fuck. I’m timid. I’m out of the executive function that makes me lead. So we went almost two weeks without sex. It’s dramatic how hard that hits my body.

I am coasting super far into burn out. I want to be more exciting but it’s not available inside my body as an option. I am not sure what I can do to recover at this point. My brain keeps shutting down in the middle of stuff I want to do. I’m so tired I can’t do my normal level of forward planning. I’m too exhausted. I can’t predict what will be true or not true by then. Sex helps when I can get a lot of it. We managed sex over the past couple of days and I am already doing better than I was over most of the last week, but I need it daily for a while and that’s not going to happen. Life and work and such. I need sex so much.

I wish I could simply send my daughter to school but they’ve already hit 2/3 of my kids here. I don’t really want to throw the third into the mix. I don’t need the school to be perfect. I need the adults to be in charge enough that my children are not beaten. I also need their safety to happen while around other children instead only when they are locked into a room alone. If they need to be locked in a room to be safe then they might as well be at home. What is the fucking point of school? I’m really frustrated by the way society lets down families. Smaller classrooms should be mandated by law. Limit of 18 children in a room for the maximum level of safety for all involved.

Oh well. Society doesn’t want to spend money on that. Better to spend the money on wars.

At least the garden is seriously coming along this year. I’m pretty excited about all the stuff we have available already. Soon the fruit starts and then we have kilos every week for months. Yay!!

I’ve added two more artichokes this year because I don’t get to eat enough of them and it makes me sad. I love artichokes. Nom nom nom. It’s been fairly warm and intermittently raining and I’m hopeful that bodes well for the year. I am weeding as much as I can, which has been a lot more than over the past two years. I’m happy about that. I also got more mulch and I will be spreading that around as much as I can. This is good. The food forest is coming. I love my garden so much.

I really need this grounding to end. It’s wearing me down. We are now at the point where we are body blocking most attempts to break the rules. Maybe we can force her into compliance long enough to get through the tenure. I hate this. It feels so awful. But when I say no I fucking mean it.

Fragments, shards, tools, and usefulness

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I am struggling right now. Writing this feels like an invitation to conflict but that’s not what I’m trying to do. I don’t have any intention of putting anyone down, making them feel bad, or blaming them for my current state. I’m probably going to have to negotiate some folks feeling bad anyway if I keep writing.

I love that people trust me to support them. It’s a big theme in my relationships, all of them. With adult peer friends, with Kids, with Elders, and with children I am usually someone that people come to when they have big feelings they need help understanding/sorting. I have no answers. I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to feel or how to fix your life. I’m not omniscient. What I can do is ask questions and share a different perspective. I like that I am good at this. I like that so many people trust me and love me in this way.

Also I have maintained the stability to be good at this over the last 20 years because Noah took care of my needs. He listened to me when I was dysregulated. He helped me tease apart where I was feeling bad about old stuff vs having a negative feeling about current actions. He helped me find my place in time. He could look at my face and have a good idea of about which age/trauma I was experiencing as an abreaction. He just knew.

Now I am helping other people untangle the threads of their lives. I feel ever more ensnarled in my own threads and incapable of pulling them apart. I need Noah. I will never have Noah again.

I talk about the hard parts of our marriage rather freely. My body is still ramping down from paying the costs of being his wife. I feel afraid to talk about the good. Thinking about how much I lost is much more painful. He was a very good husband. He was a flawed human being and he knew that meant he had to work on getting better all the time. That made me feel very safe. He was an asshole and I was an asshole and we wanted each other and it was ok that we weren’t perfect.

I am back in that place where I feel dirty and polluted and toxic for other humans. My only value is in being a tool to help. I need to do work or I don’t deserve any of the good parts of being in a relationship.

Yesterday I sat in my kitchen for 5 hours talking to a friend who is going through some stuff. It started to really kick off in their life before Noah died and they’ve been holding their breath and levitating, waiting until now to start feeling like they seriously need to change big parts of their life. They needed to talk it through with someone who isn’t going to think they are bad for having needs that their life isn’t currently meeting.

I am happy to be that for them. I really am.

Several Kids are going through rough stuff and they need to spend a lot of time processing. None of them have mothers they can really go to for processing and support. They have friends like me. Most friends aren’t like me.

My children know that they can come to me and say, “I need you to listen to me and support me like a therapist. I need you to be on my side and not advocate for or defend yourself.” It takes a few seconds for me to do the compartmentalisation necessary but I can do that for brief periods of time. I can’t live there but I can bring up a container where I am not for other people to visit when they need that from me.

Make the self into a vessel where the self is not.

I have not been able to have the rupture-repair conversations with folks from last year yet and it is eating at me. I feel ashamed. When I think about trying my insides explode with acid and pain.

I shouldn’t have approached Pretty Lady yet. I’m not ready. I am being avoidant in some shitty ways. She is in a great place in her life and she just got great news–a woman she is attracted to is also attracted to her. I am freaking out about my complete inability to close and do shit I want to do. I feel really sad that I have no container for this joy. I’m too busy feeling shame for betraying Noah. I’m too busy feeling like I am drowning in my day job. I’m too busy not being able to sort out getting my body to hurt less. I feel incapable of reducing pain at this point. It makes me feel scared and tense and angry. It reduces my capacity.

Rodent therapist says I am sitting in the intersection between resilience, tolerance, and capacity. I am not doing so great. My resilience feels almost nonexistent. My tolerance is not where I would like it to be. My capacity feels like it is nonexistent. All I have are knives.

The last few therapy sessions have involved a lot of time where my therapist is basically pleading with me to see that my life is very hard and I am genuinely dealing with more complicating factors than average people. I am not pathetic for struggling. Everyone would struggle with what I have going on. I am not a failure of a tool if I can’t work harder right now.

My inability to do more than I am doing is not proof that I am worthless. They would really like me to be able to hold on to this in my brain. Mostly I’m failing.

I can’t be there for everybody the way I wish I could. Failing to be there for people means they internalise that they aren’t worth having anyone be there for them. It is evidence that they are disposable, right?

If I can’t meet everyone’s needs why should they bother to have a relationship with me? I’m just going to disappoint them and fail them. Why bother?

I’m really not worth it. I have very little bandwidth going spare. My life is exhausting and depleting in ways I can barely wrap my brain around.

Years ago I was working with my then youngest child on anger management stuff. They are an apple that landed with their skin touching the trunk of the tree they fell from. I love them so much and I have tried hard to teach them all the stuff I was taught about how to manage living in a body that gets overwhelmed that easily. They asked, “Why is the answer to every problem ‘Get stronger’?”

I don’t know baby, but it is. That is the only thing I have seen in this life. Over and over it doesn’t matter how weak or incompetent I am. Sure, I’m going to fail a lot. I will also get back up and keep moving, working the whole time on getting stronger. I don’t know another way to experience being human.

“If you can’t look back on yourself 18 months ago and say ‘Wow I really sucked‘ you aren’t trying hard enough.”

I know, Noah, but 18 months ago I still had you. I don’t think I will ever really be able to look back on that time and think I sucked. I had you. I had a Daddy. I had a home. I was loved in this crazy, impossible, overwhelming, thoroughly engulfing way and I fucking loved it. I felt safe in my terrorised home. I felt abused, squashed, despised, and like I explosively needed to grow in ways he didn’t want to allow, sure. Mostly though, I felt loved and accepted. I knew that man was going to take care of me until one of us dropped dead.

Then he did drop dead.

I know other people love me. I am not trying to demean the gift of their love in any way. They are the flickering candles that light my path. My friends love me and carry me when I can not love myself. They keep me going.

Noah’s love wasn’t a flickering candle it was an explosive volcano that was going to permanently alter the landscape of everything he touched. I wanted him to burn me.

I feel so completely devastated that he isn’t my last rapist. I am so angry that a fucking loser stole that title from Noah. It breaks my heart. He wanted so badly to be that.

It was ok for Noah to break me. He always built me back better.

I don’t have that certainty in any other relationship and I shouldn’t look for it. I would hurt people and I don’t want to. I want to have relationships that are free from abuse moving forward and that’s going to be very hard given that I surround myself with people who are all suffering intensely from feeling abandoned and rejected as a core aspect of their selfhood. We are spiky folk.

What I offer is that I can sit with that pain and not be damaged by it. I can’t take it away. I can’t make you feel better. Your pain isn’t going to make my pain worse. My pain is about me and the journey I have been on. Well, sometimes your pain is going to make my pain worse. This is harshest when our Mother Wounds don’t align.

That potentially explosive conflict is a lot of why I am frozen when it comes to repairing some ruptures right now. Dancing around my Mother Wound is hard when I am feeling strong and stable. I am neither feeling strong nor stable. I feel weak. I feel pathetic. I feel incapable and sad and desolate. I feel like I got in over my head. I feel like I am failing at everything and there is no way to ever have anything be ok again without Noah.

Not everything was ok with Noah. There were big problems. Don’t bring reality into this relationship.

The ways I felt electrically uncomfortable with Noah were never going to fully go away. I felt a high level of nervous system activation around him. It felt comfortable. It felt normal. It felt like a shot of really strong espresso to keep me moving and energetic.

I don’t have that now. It’s weird. I have less nervous system activation than I’ve had basically ever in my life. I’m told this was supposed to be the goal or something? Why do I feel dead inside then? If this is the gold star point of all the work I did that strikes me as a problem.

I do have less nervous system activation. I feel locked into receive mode. I don’t have containers where it is safe to let out all of my crazy. I know people say they could handle more from me and it’s ok for me to talk too. I can’t. I can’t risk stress testing anyone or anything. I have to be in control of myself. I have to only bring out the tiniest of shards or I will hurt someone.

It’s going to be all my fault someone feels desolate and lonely and like there is no point in continuing to try to have relationships since everyone lets them down.

I have a lot of people who tell me that I am the safe person in their life for them to talk to. I am grateful every time. It is meaningful. I feel like something is broken in me that I don’t feel equally safe in these containers.

I felt safe in the container with Noah. I was allowed to be the most psycho extra bitch in the world and he thought I was fucking great. In tearing my soul out to splay it on his workbench like a butterfly he was examining he made me whole. The parts of me that he hated and he wanted to change were meticulously examined and understood. He took them apart down to the smallest molecules. He may have felt angry with me but he never felt repulsed. He was always drawn further in.

There has been a lot of scream/crying this week. My throat hurts. I’m getting that weird eye twitchy thing. I hate that.

I was disgusting and bad and a failure and he still loved me and wanted me. He would never have left me. Until he died suddenly in a freak way. It’s not fair. There is no fair. Someone wanted me. It was too good to be true.

He wasn’t even my Daddy for 18 years. That didn’t start until after I wrote the first book. I wrote that book 5 years in. He couldn’t be my Daddy until he saw the full context of how my father abused me. That’s objectively kind of fucked up. Also wonderful. He contorted himself as hard as he could to be the partner I needed. He put more pressure on himself to change than he did on me.

No one is perfect. No one is always good.

I don’t feel like I know how to be good enough for people going forward. A lot of how I was so good for Noah was because I was so intense and my nervous system was so activated. We matched. We spurred one another on. We combined into rocket fuel. We could try audacious things because when we fucked up the other cushioned the blow.

Noah was the person on this earth who thought it was worth night and day effort for the rest of his life to make sure I felt like someone wanted me enough that it didn’t matter if anyone else liked me. I could be bold. All the times I was rejected were tolerable because I could come home to this bubble, our whale pod of acceptance.

Now I don’t have that. I am trying desperately to create this feeling for other people. My source of it for myself is gone and I feel so very empty. How do I keep pouring water from my bucket when all that I have in there is sand. I need to water the souls of other people so they can grow. I need to live pretty much all the time in that container where I am not. It’s the only way to not be swamped by how much pain I am in.

It would be very hard to use text to talk when I am sobbing and screaming like this. I’m just saying.

The end of the first marathon

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Today my oldest child is 18 years old. He’s a full adult instead of a quasi-adult. (Scotland has some interesting laws that create a soft-opening for being an adult at 16.) I think he is magnificent. I think he is worth every hour I have put into him. I only regret that I didn’t have more to give him. Well, and I regret that Noah is not here to watch him progress into manhood.

I want to write a lot about him because he’s so cool. He’s a writer! A good one! He has an intense online following. He writes about how traumatised people exist in the world. He’s a fiction writer. He says he bases a lot of his characters on me and that’s complicated to think about. I feel humbled and flattered. I’m glad he likes me so much and that he sees me as a person who overcomes even when it is terribly painful.

It’s fun negotiating with him as a housemate. It’s interesting watching the ways that it feels like we didn’t lose Noah because my son is so much like him. He really is a chip off the old block. I am so grateful that Noah left three reflections of him on this earth. I am glad my son got to share so much with him. EC went with Noah to work conferences over the last few years of Noah’s life and it was a wonderful bonding experience for both of them. I am so happy they had such a precious relationship together.

I do wish Noah had not said so many times to our children that the best thing he could do for their motivation in life is to die. That was, in retrospect, not a nice thing.

Today my son is feeding people pie. He says he wants to do all the work for his 18th birthday and after this he will again accept help. There is shepherds pie, pot pie, and fruit pie and I think a custard pie. He hates cake.

I don’t think my son is on the trajectory Noah followed when it comes to getting a “good job” and making a lot of money. Instead he is happier and more peaceful than Noah or I have ever been. He feels secure in a way we have never been. The closest I came to that security was being with Noah and now that is gone forever. I sometimes wonder what security is going to feel like in my body in the future. I don’t have much of it now. I have vague hope for the future but no certainty.

I am kind of glad he asked to have one more year of home education because the first year after Noah’s death was such an intense black hole of learning nothing. It’s going to be interesting negotiating this dynamic because I won’t be as instructive or demanding. I’ve been pulling my demands back very consciously for a while now. He has to fly on his own.

Only 10 years to go before I am done with the Indenture. Being done with 18/28 years is pretty good. I’m not quite in the home stretch but there’s a lot of progress. I feel good about the results I see. I’m proud of my children. I don’t need them to be high achievers. That’s not part of our family values. Sure, Noah was a high achiever but it was because he burned like the sun. He needed it for himself. He passed on enough to keep us safe fairly indefinitely.

Marrying Noah and raising children together was still the best decision of my life. I had such a good partner. My babies had a good father. Now we have to keep moving without him. Life isn’t fair and no one gets what they deserve. For a little while we got to live with a glorious and inspirational soul. It was such a privilege.

Living with Noah was so good. Living without him is hard. I keep hearing the Garth Brooks song If Tomorrow Never Comes and breathing slowly and deeply. I know how much he loved me. I know that I had a great love. When the spiteful bitch ex-girlfriend group got together to bitch about me stealing him three days after his death I couldn’t help but think that he didn’t break up with them because I made him. Instead he backed away from those groups because he found the person he wanted. I know that he moved us to Scotland because he wanted me to not have a huge network of people. He didn’t want to have a huge network. He wanted me. He wanted to be alone with me as much as possible for the rest of his life. We did that.

I’m glad that I buckled down and kept myself to the house for the years he wanted me to. It was worth it. We have children who glow with certainty of place and love. We did that one day at a time. On this day I can’t help but think about how lucky I am that I got to do all this with Noah. I am so lucky.

Reading

I like my housemates

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It’s blowing my mind that my oldest child is 12 days away from being an adult. This feels absolutely impossible and bizarre. Yet, here we are. My second child is 3 months away from being a quasi-adult in this country. (Scotland is strange. There are many ways in which you gain admittance to a softer version of being an adult: you vote (in some elections), can join the military, can leave school, and you can get married without permission. You may not buy a plastic picnic knife or a pair of scissors.) In our house one of the things that turning 16 gets you is that I no longer micromanage school/screen stuff. I go hands off and allow them to fuck with their schedule. I figure that making mistakes with running your body between 16 and 18 is one of the lowest stakes time in ones entire life. Might as well make as many as possible.

I feel like I have spent the last 18 years training housemates not raising children. They communicate so well, both of them. When one of my children is struggling with doing one of their chores they initiate a group conversation so we can re-divide chores. It’s miraculous and glorious. I feel so much pride I want to explode. MC (Middle Child) has figured out that they are happiest if they can do their contributions to the household when no one else is around. They clean the kitchen after everyone else goes to bed. They are now choosing to opt in to getting up early enough to make breakfast. These wrap around chores will make sleep slightly more of a specific issue but they want this combination because it produces the lowest amount of distraction while working.

It is really cool living with people who know who they are and what they want. I feel really proud of them. I watch them self advocate and I struggle with not crying. It never enters into their psyche that maybe they should just shut up and suffer. Their life hasn’t gone that way. When they are suffering they speak up about it and demand change. That said, we also talk through the things that must be endured because they cannot be changed DBT style. I love Dialectic Behavioural Therapy. It really works for me. The framing of it helps me a lot. I have been super active in teaching it specifically to the kids. There are things that must be endured: challenging developmental stages, security in airports, recovery from surgery. These things can’t be changed when you want to. Most things can be changed though and having the strength to make it happen is the obstacle. My children are so strong. That feels mystifying to me as they balance the contradiction of being very strong and also disabled.

MC had an adenoidectomy last week. They are really enjoying the way they can already breathe through their nose somewhat. It’s hard because they haven’t been capable in many years. I am overjoyed with the impending running schedule. They are going to be coming out with me several days a week and that thrills me. Up to age 24 is when you build all the fast twitch muscle mass you will ever have in your life. We have 8 years left to push hard together to make them stronger and capable for the whole rest of their life. That’s fun.

EC (Eldest Child) is frankly suffering a lot more. His body is crap and he is not getting a lot of help from the NHS. To be fair, I don’t know what they would be able to do for him. He eats in supportive ways. He does supportive work for his body. He is doing everything that someone with our alphabet soup of labels can do. He’s going to have a rough road. He’s going to lose a lot of time to feeling like crap and being unable to force his body through coordination. There is no avoiding this. So he takes on chores around the house that have a bit of wiggle room and he can do them in batches on days that he feels well.

YC (You are catching on with the naming convention, yes?–Youngest Child) is not so good at these things right now mostly because she has zero self initiatory drive absent an immediate reward and that’s a complicated thing. Her motivation isn’t present and I’m struggling with being consistent enough to make demands every day. It’s a negotiation and a production every day still and I’m really tired. It’s hard to be as consistent without Noah around filling in the gaps.

I miss Noah every single day. It’s not every hour at this point, that’s progress. It’s hard accepting all the ways I have less to give now because he is not the backstop. I commit to so much less than I did. I feel like my brain is constantly overwhelmed and I’m drowning in lists of things. Yes, I write them down. I still repeat them in my head because otherwise they will never happen. I feel like barely contained chaos at all times. Noah made order out of the chaos. I feel deeply helpless without him. I’m trying to learn that the maelstrom of words is not something that I can share in the same way. I will never be able to jump topics in a conversation the way I did with him again. No one else will ever have so much context for my thoughts. He could look at my face and know why I was crying. He knew which wrinkles in my face were for which layer of grief. It is hard the degree to which I will not be known going forward.

I don’t mean that no one will get to know me. They will do their best but I have a lot more history now and way less time to talk about it. What Noah and I had took so much time. I don’t have that kind of time to give anymore. It feels like I am not able to promise that depth and intimacy and I feel really mixed about that.

I feel lots of feelings at this point because poly is going to be complicated. I’m looking forward to it and also dreading it. I think that is a fairly normal set of feelings about poly. Poly is great! Also: poly is terrible! I really like my boyfriend. He feels like a really solid human. Our explorations together continue to deepen and broaden. I don’t currently have any idea what we are building towards. I don’t know what the limits of this relationship will be, exactly, yet. I don’t anticipate living together. For sure not any time soon. I am looking forward to when YC is older and I can sleep at his more often. He has a kitty who doesn’t appreciate being abandoned so he shouldn’t sleep here too often. We both have these anchors in our own spaces and that feels really comforting to me. He has been burned by relationship changes in the past. I like that we are both coming into this relationship with our own centres of gravity. (Also, if you are from the UK please give me spelling feedback. I’m trying to adapt but this shit is hard.)

I have started dating a nice woman I know in the queer community. It is still very early days and we can’t get together often. We’ve had two dates. We have not had sex. I feel like it’s going to take a while before I can be capable of having the kind of sex we are interested in having together. I have a lot of issues. My marriage involved a bunch of very conscious programming work that Noah did on my brain to try to change me. He wanted me to be monogamous. He wanted me to never top/dominate/hit someone ever again. He did a lot of hours of work on making it so that my body feels like it can’t access these urges I have. He wanted me to only need or want him. Now I can’t help but feel like I was right to refuse that.

I keep replaying in my head when he burst into tears saying that he was going to turn out to be only one of my great loves when I was absolutely the one big one for him. It feels like an indictment of my character.

The pain I feel right now because I couldn’t give him the single minded focus he needed so bad is part of why I feel like I should never live with someone again. My inability to have only one love hurts people and I don’t want to lead anyone on ever again.

It’s not that I spent my whole marriage cheating on Noah. I didn’t. He was always terrified of it though. He felt like I could at absolutely any moment and he never relaxed. He didn’t trust me. He didn’t believe I would keep choosing him. He was afraid that any amount of not looking at him would invalidate all of the time I spent looking at him.

He was suffocating me. I feel awful about this. I didn’t have the capacity to be satisfied from spending 20 hours a day with him. He was very stingy about how much time I was allowed to be out of the house. I didn’t want to leave. I did only want 10-12 hours a day with him. That hurt him. I couldn’t make that not hurt. For him that was overwhelmingly painful rejection. I talked about getting a crappy retail job to get out of the house and meet people and he was very upset. He could not accept me wanting to spend that much time away from the family. He would scornfully tell me that I would make so little money that it could not possibly justify being away from him. He missed the point.

I was trying as hard as I could to be ok in the small box he wanted me to live in. I wanted to be the wife he wanted. I am really sad I couldn’t be. I was going to keep beating my head against that wall forever. I’m sad that our journey together is over.

I am sad that my need to be alone and to have adventures with new people will continue to hurt people forever. I am selfish. I want myself. I want to be alone. I want to spend time in my brain. I want to form new understandings of humans and that means continuing to meet new people.

Another Kid is entering my life. I am really enjoying having intergenerational friendships with folks. I love that these young adults are drawn to me. I love getting to talk to them about what is going on in their lives. I’m trying to map them out in my brain.

I feel really lucky that these people come and seek me out. I don’t do that great in group situations at this point. I hang out on the outskirts of communities. I am not a central pillar of anything. I hide in my house and garden. These folks come to me and share their hearts and life stories. I rephrase what I hear to make sure I’m understanding properly. This process is a big deal. I don’t have to have solutions or answers to anything. What I do is properly listen and help them frame the topic. That’s enough. Having someone else understand and validate what is going on is already a big deal.

I feel like I should put more effort into friendships with folks my age but they all have kids and the schedule conflicts are impossible.

I have been spending more time with Jenny. That’s really good for my soul. Once again she is pulling me into dancing. Now we go to line dancing classes together. She has been good for me for over 30 years and I cannot overstate how grateful I am. She is such a good friend.

I am not reaching out to most Californians. I feel incapable. I feel overwhelmed. I feel like I am drowning. I am fully present in every moment and I don’t have the ability to reach backwards for all the old ties. I feel like I am barely stumbling through my days. I am so tired.

Today I have a whole bunch of time. I get to weed! This is the big thrill for me right now. Yeah, yeah, “No mow May”. I’m not mowing. I’m removing grass from growing areas. I don’t have the space for a meadow. Luckily my neighbour is letting the patch next to me run wild. I finally acknowledged to myself that I missed the window on starting seeds so I have bought some plant starts. I try not to do this. Oh well. It is what it is. Food will grow. Asparagus (not to be harvested this year of course), a variety of different Asian green vegetables, a bunch of salad green things, some peas, some brassicas. I need to chuck my potatoes in the ground today.

I won’t get everything done today that I “should”. I’m not capable of it. That’s feeling really hard. I should also try to get all the tax documents sent off to the accountant. That should have happened already. Fuck.

Also I want to read more. I want to sleep more. I need more rest. I also need to exercise more. DO EVERYTHING MORE ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

Deflated by feelings

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I feel weary in my bones. The last 7 days have been incredibly emotionally intense. I finally saw folks in the chronic pain clinic and it was a very positive appointment. I am on the road to finding the right specialists within the NHS for my particular issues. They are putting in a letter that cannabis is the most appropriate medication for me and this will allow me to pursue getting a prescription through the NHS. This is going to be incredibly helpful because I will be able to stop smoking and go back to capsules. This is great news.

The thing about living in the UK is that everything moves slowly. Getting good news means that in a few months or a year I might see an impact on my life being different. The speed is hard to live with at times. It’s like how Noah’s estate isn’t fully settled because the rules here have hundreds of years of precedent and they are picky about paperwork. It’s nearly done but it isn’t done yet.

Both of these things being in limbo for so long is feeling hard on my body. I feel tired and worn down from being anxious. I was on the chronic pain waiting list for about 5 years. The NHS is very slow but it gets to people. Middle child had their adenoidectomy after being on that waiting list for years. Recovery is a process. They are excited about being able to breathe. Eldest Child hit the top of the gender affirming care list a few weeks ago. They called to tell him that seeing him down in Glasgow in the clinic that used to do care for minors is pointless. He will switch to our local NHS waiting list at 18 and he will probably be at the top at that juncture. Local will be easier for a lot of reasons.

Living here requires learning a kind of patience that feels unreal in some moments. My American nervous system is not trained for this much freezing and waiting. I learned long ago to act, to fight, to do anything to make things change. Here that’s not a good approach. Here, being messy and active slows stuff down. It’s hard to integrate this knowledge in my body.

I’ve talked to my solicitor and a lot of doctors this week. Every single one has emphatically told me that I am managing freakishly well and they are impressed that I am keeping everything together. I think they aren’t seeing all the balls I drop. It was nice, in a way, that the receptionist at the dentist was very kind about saying she can understand why stuff is hard because Noah used to do so much to keep us all on track. She could see that just from us moving through the reception area for appointments.

I feel less competent than I used to. Noah isn’t here to patch over the cracks of my mistakes. I make so many mistakes.

I am really struggling with all the ways I feel bad and too much and sad. My emotions feel too big to share with anyone else. I don’t want to drown people. Noah wanted all of me. He could handle it. I don’t feel like it is ethical to share very much with people now. Tiny drips and no more. I am feeling like a tsunami of pain and if I let it impact anyone else there will be consequences.

There are always consequences for being me.

How funny. I can tell that my face is scrunching up when I cry just like my son’s does.

There is no doubt in my mind that if I didn’t have the kids I would be dead now. Noah promised me that he would let me die first so I didn’t have to be alone. I am alone in my brain now in a way I haven’t been since I was in my teens. By my early 20’s I had people around me who were opting in at full speed. I think there are people in my life now who would say they want to opt in to the fullness of my brain and I am not able to trust them. I have been left too many times. I’m afraid to need anyone. Everyone goes away. I’m not fully alone. I spend time with my Jenny. I have made some really nice friends here and they care about me a lot. They show up. My boyfriend is a great guy. And still there is so much of me that I could only share with Noah. I miss Noah. I miss being good enough even when I sucked.

I hate that I feel no resilience. A very soft amount of correction feels like evidence that I don’t deserve to be alive or have relationships. I can’t react in a proportionate way and I hate this. I hate feeling like even the smallest amount of frown invalidates me existing. This is what Noah gave me. I annoyed the shit out of him. He corrected me harshly and I could handle that because I knew that nothing I ever did would be bad enough for him to leave me. Back I go into feeling like I don’t belong anywhere or to anyone. Being necessary for the kids is different.

It’s good! Don’t get me wrong. I am really grateful that I have positive, uplifting experiences with the kids every day. We get along. We are well suited to each other. We have a peaceful, loving coexistence. This feels possible mostly because I keep most of me in a box off-stage.

I am not sure I will ever feel seen again. I miss Noah. I miss the way he clutched me like I was his security object. I miss feeling like I was the reason someone felt whole. Instead I am back to being someone who makes people feel awkward and uncomfortable. I don’t like being me. I want to be someone who was born good enough to love. I have to work like a dog around the clock to earn my right to keep breathing.

I am really tired. I slept ok last night. This is exhaustion at the soul level. It is so hard going on without Noah. He needed me. He needed me so much that all by himself he justified my existence. Without him I feel like a burden the world doesn’t need. I know that my kids need me for a while longer, but I am afraid of their complete independence. I am afraid that I will see all the signs that I trained them to not need me as reasons I should go. The point of being a mother is to raise people who will be fine without you. If you don’t do that, you haven’t been a good mother. You can’t train apprentice adults to be dependent. They need to be able to survive my death.

I am struggling right now. I will get through it. I always do. Right now it hurts.

Sorry about the test posts

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I am working on transferring over 600 posts to this site. When I’m done y’all can catch up on the story at your leisure. I apologise if you get a torrent of emails. I am trying to figure out if I can get that not to happen. I will be going through all the old stuff so that I can put tags on everything. That will help you pull out specific threads out of the story so you don’t have to wade through well over a million words.

I have noticed that I feel inhibited talking here because I haven’t been explaining stuff here for a long time. It feels random and out of place. So I’ll let you catch up on the back story. You don’t have to read it all. You never have to read all of it. If you do opt in to being Archivist, let me know.

I’m having big feelings about what I want to do with Noah’s writing from this time period. In a way I feel like I want to have Noah’s writing backed up near mine because we did a lot of writing back and forth at each other. Someday I will mine all of that for a book about him. Not till after I write about Vicki. I am starting to feel emotionally and spiritually ready to move past this intensely self obsessed period of my life. I needed it and I don’t feel bad about taking it. It’s been a rough last few years. I’ve been having a lot of feelings.

I think I have hit the “I don’t give a fuck” wall at full speed. I am going to integrate my writing here. I have had a lot to say in my life and I want to own all of it. I’m going to see about taking pieces of it apart for books. That will be a lot of work.

I am built for work.

You may get an avalanche of email very soon. I apologise.

You just keep going

Do the best you can