Ok, the next stage of my life can start right now. That would be awesome. 🙂
Cryptic
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Author Archives: Krissy Gibbs
Comedy.of.Errors.
It feels like everything is hitting speed bumps today. My plans for today were: drop van off at mechanic, go home and paint. I woke up at 5am. It seems like that’s not an outrageous list of things to do.
Well. The van has uhm a few more issues than anticipated and I have been on the phone with 3 mechanics, my cousin 3 times, and the guy at the Toyota dealership 5 times. It also involved extensive web searches because holymotherfuckingshit do I not want to pay that many thousands of dollars on repairs today. My cousin, who has been an active mechanic for better than 40 years, says I am getting a good deal and I really really need to do those repairs today or I will be sorry. He has yet to steer me wrong so I’m taking his advice. Even though I want to cry about how expensive this is. Did I mention that tomorrow we have to drop the Prius off for maintenance? 🙁
I ran out of paint after an hour of painting because I didn’t take into account that this is drywall with one coat of primer. It’s thirsty. Noah brought home more and I haven’t been able to touch it because I’ve been busy with other things. Working on the ceiling with Calli on my back made my head, neck, and back hurt so much I want to cry.
We let Shanna help. Of course in the first three minutes she stuck a finger full of blackboard paint (it’s grainy) into her eye necessitating lots and lots of eye flushing while forcibly holding her down as she kicked and screamed. Yeah, that makes my whole fucking day. 🙁 But it was really important. Then we cuddled for a bit to kind of recalibrate.
I have gotten over hungry more than once today and that does really bad things for my mood.
I figured out why our garage is flooding! I thought I had already fixed the problem, but today’s torrential downpour is showing me way more about the problem. Noah and I both worked in the rain trying to get it so that it stops actively flooding Right Now but I have many days of dirt moving ahead of me and I want to cry thinking about it. I will not be painting that wall or ordering the carpet until this problem is truly *fixed*. Ugh.
Calli is teething and whining. And clingy. So.Very.Clingy.
And I’m sober. Sober fucking sucks. My adrenaline is through the roof because of stupid little shit going wrong all day.
And this is with help. This would be why I haven’t started any of the things alone. 😛
smks: first made up song
“peeeeeee peeeeeeeee peeeeeeeeeee
it . . . comes from youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu”
With lots of wiggling and flourishes. I couldn’t be more proud.
Good parenting.
I asked on MDC what makes good parents and someone turned around and asked me if I would like to have me as a parent. Yes. I really would. I would so love a mom like me. I am empathetic, strong, dependable, mostly consistent with my behavior even though my moods are unpredictable, I am fun! I like to play. I like doing all kinds of neat things and I think, “Why not?” is a great answer to questions like, “Can I cover my entire body in finger paint?” I am fiercely protective. I fight through my touch issues to be incredibly snuggly with my girls. I think that everyone needs to scream sometimes–just not in the house. I think that everyone has bad days and they do not in any way reflect your value as a person. I am loyal. I am honest. I am kind. I am considerate. Loving! So! So! Loving. I pay so much attention to my kids. As people. I like to stare at them.
So it seems that I am a great supporting character. (Like I was a good secondary.) I’m not that great at being the main character. Maybe I should just like me more. Maybe then I would do better at being the important one in my life.
Also, really thrilled about the push to recognize Shanna’s behavior as Not About Me. We’ve had a really great day and a lot of it is when she starts pushing on something I am stopping to think how it relates to her and her needs instead of mine. *That’s* good parenting. 😛 Thanks for telling me to do it, blacksheep.
freecycle is awesome and awful.
Between Craigslist and freecycle I am trying to off-load approximately a large bedroom worth of stuff. (It’s only that big because one of the things is the shed from our yard.) Some of the things listed are: bag of kids clothes sized 6m-3t, mixed genders and seasons. I think it is fucking hilarious how many people send me emails asking for pictures of all the clothes, uhm dude if I went to that much trouble I’d put them on fucking ebay, and for me to sort out specific things in the exact sizes/styles/genders they want. No. That’s not how this works, folks. I say, “Hey! Bag of free shit!” You say, “Cool! I’ll be right over!” (Or, “Can I come after work”–we don’t discriminate against people with jobs in this house.)
And dude who aggressively said he wanted to come get the shed today for 20% less than I listed it for? No. And you may not have my address.
eta: I’m noticing my writing getting worse. Many more mistakes. I blame the child running into my leg.
*wave*
So I invited a few more of my MDC ladies back here to my blog. Hopefully we continue this trend of them liking me. Ha.
Announcement and House projects
I have just decided that I am going to publicly announce that my Sarah (dangerpudding) is moving in with us towards the end of the summer. Right now August 1st is our target date. All co-housing situations have the potential for drama and stress. However we are going to choose to say, “We are ignoring the fact that often there is roommate drama! It’ll work out!” Basically I anticipate us getting some outside mediation at certain points to make sure my head is out of my ass. 🙂 There is so much potential for good here it isn’t funny. Sarah and I travel well together, spend excessive amounts of time together, and are both good at retreating to our rooms when we need a break. Cross your fingers for us and send us your blessings because this working out could be the solution to many of mine and Sarah’s problems. Good wishes are very very helpful.
That said! If Sarah is moving into my house there are many things that must be changed. Our house isn’t very big and we are currently using all of it. It’s going to mean a lot of adjusting our current house usage and getting rid of stuff. It also means that I have to get around to finishing the garage conversion. 🙂 Noah has the next four days off of work and I am going to take advantage of him being home to get through chores as fast as possible. Lots of painting. Lots of moving furniture. Other random sorting or minor chores that need to happen in the next few months.
As is my want, I periodically put on here that I would love house with house chores! Sometimes people show up and sometimes they don’t. Both are perfectly ok. But, if anyone out there has not much to do over the next four days this would be a better-than-average time to come over. Even if you don’t want to do house chores Shanna would love a play mate. 🙂 Or you could just chat with me. I’m open to many variations. 🙂
I think I needed that.
Today my therapist laughed at me. At some point we worked our way around to how to continue processing abuse stuff in a limited way in that little box over there in the corner so that there isn’t ‘leakage’ into the rest of my life. These are important things to consider when planning how to end the cycle of abuse or build a nuclear reactor plant. Just sayin’. I came around to the idea of a support group. Yes! That is what I need! A support group for mothers with mental illness or mothers who are survivors of abuse. Yes! Because then I can have people who are in the same place as me who can give me advice because I suck and I’m not figuring it all out. She almost fell out of her chair laughing. Apparently she thinks they don’t have much to teach me. We actually spent the rest of our time together talking about a workshop she has been dying to lead…and she has been trying to figure out how to talk to me about it. Because she thinks I have a lot to teach about doing this. She views my recent blip as as really… nothing to write home about when dealing with mothers who were victimized. No lines have been crossed. No one has been harmed. No actual damage has been perpetrated. Ok, my tone of voice sucks sometimes. Why am I crucifying myself? We spent a lot of time talking about victim/rescuer judge/(can’t think of the word but you catch my point). It was really neat. It was interesting having her point out on this little graph how I was moving around in my relationship with Shanna. We talked about specifics of how to step out of it and she said that really the only thing she would have suggested is what I started doing yesterday. It was very validating. She more or less gave me a check list of things to think about when considering parenting stuff and that was extremely useful. It was also nice to be reminded that as a parent it really and truly isn’t my job to ensure that my kids like me. Making them happy at all costs is really not the right road to a happy adulthood because they will be total assholes. But I digress. 🙂
I’m always going to be kind of messy (like emotionally and psychically) and weird. But that’s ok. So is everyone else if I look at them closely enough. I am not a bad person. I want to stop treating myself like I am. No matter how much I want to believe that I am a monster in the making, I’m really not. I’m not abusing my kids. I’m not hurting them. I’m loving on them and giving them lots of attention and affection and support. Why do I only see the 4 seconds I yell and decide that is the only important 4 seconds of the day? It’s really not. All the time I spend patiently showing Shanna every step of ‘how to do things right’ even when it is challenging to let her do it. For every time I say, “Man you’ve been working on that! You couldn’t do that a week ago. I wonder what you will be able to do next week.” I see her. I love her. I don’t need to buy her love. I make a vow today, I will stop acting like I have to buy my daughter’s love. That course of action will result in both of us losing.
Picking up my basket
I really like the movie “The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood”. It’s far from being a perfect analogy for my life but I see familiar things in it and ultimately it is a hopeful movie. Yeah, the mom fucked up pretty bad and she is hurt and ashamed by that for the rest of her life. And her daughter has issues, but she also has a pretty great life and a wonderful partner etc. It’s one of those, “Yes moms can be really imperfect and the kids still turn out somehow” sorts of things. Given how frequent a trope that is I’m pretty confident the worry exists in other minds as well, minds that don’t work like mine. Anyway. At one point the mother describes her own mental breakdown as “I dropped my basket.” Since I heard that line I think of it often when I’m having trouble carrying around all my shit. It’s like the basket got too heavy so I had to set it down for a while. For most of my life I have set it down as long as I needed to and slowly picked up one item at a time. But uhm, things are different now. I’m reading parenting books and near as I can tell every single one says, “Hey! You know how you behave when you are cheerful and doing ok? Yeah? Ok! That’s perfect! Do that for the rest of your life without let up and everything will work out!” Cause yeah, when I’m on the ball I do this parenting thing pretty well like I taught well. I genuinely enjoy interacting with kids like this. But it is hard. It is unrelentingly hard. And I dropped my basket. But Shanna has informed me that it is time to pick my basket up again. Her behavior is slipping. She’s acting out more. I honestly don’t know how it will work to just decide, “I am not going into denial or ‘stuffing’ my feelings I just need to set them in this box I look in once a week.” I don’t know if I have really tried this before. I can tell you right now that I am nervous. This is hard. Honestly this feels slightly like a step in the wrong direction in terms of worrying about multiples. 😛 But these thoughts are dominating my entire life and that just isn’t working. I can’t be that self-absorbed anymore. I had like a 7 week breakdown. That’s a fucking long time in the life of a child. It has to just end, now. *beat head against wall*
Maybe I should read parenting books more often
So I’m picking around Becoming The Parent You Want To Be. I’ve been kind of poking at it intermittently for years. It is interesting to have it reaffirmed that no really, it’s ok for my kid to be kind of weird and different from other people. If she’s happy, secure, and prepared for success in life there isn’t a thing wrong with being weird. Maybe I should stop listening to other peoples parenting advice.
How ironic that I want a parenting advice book to tell me to stop taking advice. Ha. I’m a moron.
Boundaries.
I’m noticing that I’m not using good boundaries lately. That’s a problem in pretty much every part of my life. Maybe I need to try and shelve the old shit again for a while and try to switch focus to more immediate boundary issues. I wonder if this will work. :-\
Just thinking out loud
Do other people get to have epiphanies one time and then they change whatever they realized needed changing and they are fine forever? I really suck at that bit. For me it kind of works like, “Oh no! This is a huge thought! This is life changing! Oh shit! la la la living life la la la Oh shit! Here is this different situation! I have to have this huge thought about it! Oh shit! It’s the same thought as last time! I was too stupid to remember it! Fuck.” Apparently in my head exclamation points are king. I don’t have a lot of patience for this cycle in myself. It drives me batshit. Isn’t that the smart kid/perfectionist in me? It’s not ok to make mistakes? It is certainly unacceptable to make the same mistake over and over but similar mistakes also make me pathetic! But no pressure.
No pressure. (by the way if this actually works it’ll be my first time posting one of my medicated stream of thoughts things, let me know if this is coherent. most of it feels terribly profound in my head this second. ha.) No pressure. God I hate that expression. I am so tired of the casual demeaning of stress and how much it affects people. Pressuring people is so very very awful. But man I am getting off topic. See, I’m nervous. I don’t want to say the same things over and over again because that’s boring, right? People don’t want to listen to the same problems over and over again. It’s whiny. It’s pathetic. It lowers the whiners social capital. And I don’t have a lot left to lose. Although I suppose, to be fair, I would be really surprised if anyone who is currently showing up in my life disappeared. I might lose internet readers. Whoopie? Ok. On with my whining.
fyi
I have too much anxiety about people judging me badly to properly record how bad my anxiety was yesterday. That’s pretty fucking pathetic.
Double plus ungood.
I stayed sober yesterday longer than is my custom right now because I had to drive in the evening. By 10 pm when I got home my stomach hurt so badly that I felt like I was going to vomit on the ground at any second.
I need to get a handle on this anxiety. I am falling apart and this can’t continue.
This is why I think I am not abusive.
I had to step out of the bathroom for about a minute and a half while Shanna was taking a bath. She soaked the whole freaking room. This is totally standard, doesn’t every kid do this? My mom beat the shit out of me. I told Shanna that I was very frustrated because what she did created a lot of work for me and I was going to be cranky while I cleaned it up. My tone of voice wasn’t awesome. But beyond the initial, “Shanna what are you doing!” I wasn’t loud.
I hate that I feel like I have to prove this to anyone but mostly myself.
Why things feel rocky.
Something that I don’t know that I made clear in my last post is why it is such a big deal to get this validation. My mom and sister are really good at crazy making. They deny reality. If you have never lived with people like that you can’t really understand in your gut. “Oh you poor thing. I’m so sorry you were molested” turns into “Oh. So you were molested?” Then it morphs again into, “I don’t know what you are talking about. That isn’t possible. You should stop talking.” That can take as little as about 15 minutes.
Called my brother
So really what happened is I called my brother days ago and we’ve played phone tag since then. Anyway. Tonight we really talked. We talked for 45 minutes and there were so many little subtopics. He said he believes me absolutely 100% without question on all of it. I spent a while sobbing and spilling out my memories of our father and what he did to me. I kept apologizing to him because I know he doesn’t want to hear it but he told me that he is willing to listen to whatever I need to say. He considers my mental health more important than his momentary discomfort at hearing these stories. That’s huge. That’s monumental. I mean, it’s not like we are suddenly going to be close and spend time together. But I was just told by a person in my immediate family that the fucked up version of reality I knew growing up was indeed happening. I am not crazy. I am not imagining any of it. I am not lying. My mother and sister can go fuck themselves.
He believes me. He heard what actually happened and he believes me. He told me that yes, I am used as the scapegoat by everyone. My brother believes me.
More kid musing
It’s kind of weird writing this stuff here because the internet is forever. How will my kids feel about so many random people being able to find so much about them? Kind of an interesting thing to think about. But, here’s more anyway. 🙂
I think that nursing is a skill and Shanna was good at it and Calli is kind of awful. Seeing as I just read a chunk of The Birth Order Book yesterday that’s kind of funny. Apparently it is completely standard for second children to go the exact opposite of the older child. Fair enough. Calli seems to have a really hard time regulating my milk flow. She has one nursing speed: full bore. (Is that the right spelling? bore? boar? Darn Noah for not being awake yet!) This means she coughs and chokes and sputters. Still. She’s six months old. She should bloody well have figured out this nursing thing by now. (said lightheartedly) She also yanks really hard as she whips her head around. She can’t lie still on my lap. At all. Ever. She is either waving her arms or her legs or rolling her head back and forth or tapping her foot or… On my best days I think this is the coolest thing in the world. She has so much energy to burn it isn’t funny. I think that is a positive thing. On the worst days I can’t stand having her on me to nurse and I contemplate supplementing with formula. This thought kind of horrifies the lactivist in me. :-\ I’m actually nervous about giving her a bottle though. Yes I know I could pump, but I kind of suspect she would love switching to a low flow bottle and never nursing again. I don’t think I am up for committing to another couple of years exclusively pumping. That is my nightmare. It’s complicated. So far I am just working constantly on nursing manners. I believe in letting kids nurse full term.
Shanna is being restricted to one nursing a day because she doesn’t seem to be able to stop biting. I think her mouth has changed and biologically she’s ready to be done. Emotionally she totally isn’t. *sigh* It’s hard because nursing is her biggest comfort in case of something awful happening or if she is feeling particularly insecure but it wicked hurts and puts me in a horrible mood. :-\ Not a great plan then. I feel like completely weaning at this time would be a bit much for her. She’s had enough adjustments lately–new bed in a new bedroom (alone by herself for the first time in her life), potty training, new sister, extra vaccines lately because of the travel, I’ve been having a hard time all on my own and she notices. I seem to have given up on complete sentences. Interesting. So I feel like I’m trying to give Shanna a bit longer before I force weaning. We are talking about it and leading up to it. I think her birthday will be the cut off. Eek. Poor baby girl. 🙁
And I really don’t have time for more. ack
smks: identity
While flipping through a catalog I said to Shanna, “Ok, which one of you is the tomboy and which one is the ultra femme? I want to start decorating.” (Yes I had a playful tone of voice and I was kidding.)
Shanna said, “We are not tomboys and we are not ultra femmes. We are Shanna and Calli.”
Elephant in the room
I’ve started and stopped this post at least 20 times. I smoke pot. There. I’ve said it. I have a medical prescription for anxiety and it really really helps. I can go from having super intense panic attacks so nasty I feel like I am dying to being calm and cheerful in a few minutes. I feel like this is the miracle I have been waiting for most of my life. I feel like I get a boost in seratonin. I really feel cheerful. I can be so very patient. On days when we just can’t find a calm/safe space for us to interact if I go into time out for 10 minutes we can go back to doing just fine.
But I feel guilty. I feel like this proves that I am a horrible mother. I don’t smoke all the time. I don’t smoke around my kids. But I feel guilty. This is a crutch. I have tried a lot of psych meds and had no luck. This is amazing. While I am high I feel comfortable in my skin which is pretty much anamolous in my world.
But I feel guilty because as my friend said “The people who used drugs when I was growing up were jerks” and I’m terrified of becoming them. People who use drugs are BAD. I don’t want to be BAD. But I keep on chores better when I am smoking regularly (no lie, it’s weird), I like my life more.
This is complicated. And it’s now part of me. I’m not sure if I am a permanent user or if I am just getting through this patch. We’ll see. This is the right choice for now. (Before anyone starts in on eating instead of smoking–I’m trying. It’s hard to find a consistent method that way.)