Dr tomorrow

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So I should figure out what to say. This isn’t a Kaiser appointment so I have more than 15 minutes. Hurrah!

I’m thinking I should start at my head and work my way down. I get severe headaches. Usually I think of them as “eye strain” but I got new glasses last year and it didn’t help the way it did in previous years. These headaches center around my temples and mostly streak back towards my ears. That throbs in the 2-5 pain range pretty much daily. The whole muscle group that supports my skull has been unhappy and fairly crampy since I had kids. My entire skull hurts all the time.

I have vertigo off and on. I used to be prone to blacking out but that hasn’t happened in years. I go through periods of extreme tinnitus.

It is difficult for me to breathe through my nose. If I try I end up gasping for breathe through my mouth.

Before I move down from the head it is important to note that a large part of the reason I am going to the doctor is because I have PTSD and GAD and depression and I am having a hard time controlling my behavior when my body is in this much pain all the time. My PTSD symptoms include hypervigilance, flashbacks, avoidance, heightened startle reflex, extreme anger, repetitive intrusive negative thoughts, nightmares (when I’m sober but pot controls these), suicidal urges, self-harm urges, and early wake up time.

In a few months I will be at the point where I have been in therapy on and off for 30 years. It has been court ordered and paid for by the state for a lot of my life because my traumas were considered extreme. Society has an interest in making sure I don’t climb a bell tower with a loaded gun. I have “tried” every school of therapeutic approach I could as I went through 21 therapists. At this point I do cognitive behavior therapy (cbt), acceptance and commitment therapy (act), eye-movement desensitization and reprocessing (emdr), prolonged exposure therapy, and I use cannabis with a medical card. I have tried a wide variety of big-pharma medications including anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, and anti-anxiety meds. I had severe side effects from everything that made it impossible for me to actually live while taking the meds. I am more functional without those medications.

As a result of life experiences I have a great deal of difficulty working with doctors. When I was a child my mother spent a great deal of time telling me I was a “hypochondriac” because my body always had problems but a brief 15 minute visit to a doctor always resulted in them saying “nothing was wrong with me”. Which lead to hours or weeks of being screamed at and berated and sometimes I was beaten if my mother was under enough stress in her life. Later I had other negative experiences with doctors. I have extreme difficulty in learning to trust people who might be able to help me with my help. My experience is they really don’t care about me.

Ok, now to continue down the body. That neck is still a nightmare all the time. I do not have full range of motion through my neck.

My shoulders have been in pain since my first pregnancy. Sleeping on my side for years has caused me to develop a lot of pain all the way through my shoulder muscles. I have several specific big knots that are dull notes of pain all the time with occasional spasms. This pain area stays in the 2-6 area. Mostly down at a 2 with spasms that absolutely hit a 6.

My arms are getting worse by the year because I type too much in bad positions. I’m a writer. I will always type too much. I have muscle pain and tingling up and down my arms and into my hands. I can point at a few specific unhappy spots. I have been specifically diagnosed with tennis and golf elbow.

I have experienced back pain from early childhood. The severe back pain started after a specific trauma at around age 9. I have low grade back pain (4ish) all day every day with times that I have spasms in my lower back that spike up to the 8-9 range. When the spasms happen I have to lie on the floor and cry and wait them out. I get the spasms irregularly. I have fewer spasms when I exercise more so I suspect that it is related to weakness in the muscles but I’m not sure. I have seen a chiropractor in the past and it made the pain less intense but did not eradicate it. I get irregular massages to help with my muscle pain and they can generally bring my entire body down at least one or two levels of pain.

In the front of my body I have a lot of digestion issues. I have had chronic diarrhea for all of my life that I remember. I was probably malnourished through my childhood because I had multiple years where I ate nachos for my free lunch at school and ramen for every meal at home. We were poor and I was alone and unable to cook more advanced food for myself. I was alone most of the time from about four years old. I could boil water for ramen. I didn’t have much more talent than that.

I worry that I have food intolerances or allergies but I am not sure. I know that the diarrhea and abdominal cramping is highly related to stress but I have never managed to detect other true signs of allergies. Wheat and dairy combine to make more than half of my diet and sometimes I have symptoms and sometimes I don’t. So… I’m not sure what that means. If I eat too many raw vegetables I will be in extreme pain. Cooked vegetables are better but I still have pain from them sometimes.

I have had periods of extreme stomach pain for my entire life. That’s where I hold my stress.

I had two hard pregnancies and two rough labors but I don’t intend to have children again. Yay!

I have an area on my lower abdomen where I occasionally get a throbbing feeling. A doctor can verifiably feel the throbbing sometimes but the first test looking for a hernia came back negative and I have not been psychologically able to pursue follow up testing as to why I still have that throb in my belly. My husband suggested aneurism. I don’t know.

I figured out a while back that carbonation causes me extreme pain. I no longer ingest it.

My hips are tight despite me doing a lot of stretching (I do yoga at home by myself–I have a book) but they aren’t what I would consider “painful”.

I used to get a lot more pain in my vagina than I do at this point. I had a lot of internal scar tissue but luckily child birth seems to have dealt with breaking up the scar tissue. At this point I have only occasional pain during sex.

My legs go in and out of pain but that has all been since I started running and it feels like good, healthy muscle soreness. It isn’t like my shoulders or back at all. I get occasional escalation of soreness near my knees but if I try to watch my running form more carefully for a bit that goes away. I am happy to report that my feet only hurt after long distances of running.

That’s all I can think of right now. Have I missed anything I bitch about frequently?

All honey badger like.

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I was thinking about what triggers the suicidal urges. Because I need to control them. There are lots of triggers but some are more predictable than others. Gaslighting is a pretty sure fire way to cause me to psychologically recoil and believe that the only option is checking out.

Gaslighting is, more or less, when you try to make people mistrust their own perception of reality. When you tell someone to depend on you while avoiding emails for months. “I’m there for you” while flipping someone off. That’s very minor gaslighting.

“People tell you what they think you want to hear because they don’t want to disappoint you.”

When it comes to the potential safety of my children I need to deal with the absolute cold, hard reality of life. I can’t just pray that “everything will work out”. Lots of people try to tell me that my life worked out just fine because I’m not dead yet. Fuck you.

I have to believe actions. I have to. I have to watch what people do and extrapolate from that.

I “know” I am not actually “alone”. I have friends. What I don’t have is a safe haven for my children. That attacks all of my core sense of self, all of my core sense of safety.

I get what people have leftover after they take care of the things that actually matter to their lives. I bloody well know that.

That’s not good enough for my kids.

I think it is weird that I’m willing to throw down that as a boundary for my children and not for myself. I think I get more than I deserve from most of my friends. I think my friends are patient and generous with a crazy bitch they owe nothing to in this world.

My children are not crazy bitches and they do not god damn deserve to go through their lives learning that they get what other people have leftover and they had better smile and be sweet or people will decide they don’t even deserve that.

I know I shoot myself in the foot a lot with this whole “lack of gratitude” thing. I don’t just say “thank you”. I say, “Uhm… you showed up with $1 when you promised $6,203. Where is the rest?”

My kids deserve that. I don’t know why but they do. Because everyone should deserve that. I sure as fuck wish I did.

I’m scared. I feel really bad that until my children are adults I will live in terror that they will get shunted off to a bunch of rapists or a crazy lady who has beaten every other child she’s had.

I’m scared. I am not omniscient. I cannot make sure my children will be safe. That makes me feel very bad about myself. That is the most important task I have ever or will ever have. I can keep them safe as long as I’m alive and that’s it.

I “understand” that many parents are in similar positions. They didn’t have a childhood like mine to look back on.

Everyone seems to want their children to have “better” than them–whatever that means to the individual parent. I want my children to actually be wanted. I want my children to never feel like they are an unpleasant burden. But unfortunately when your mother is a crazy bitch you aren’t very wanted by other people.

I’m so sorry.

Disclaimer: No one in my life has called me a crazy bitch in a long time. I haven’t been called crazy or a bitch by anyone other than myself (to my face at least) in at least ten years. This is simply how I live with the shame and guilt of so many friends breaking off contact. If you have the same problem over and over again… it probably isn’t someone else’s fault. It is probably your fault.

It’s my fault.

Not good.

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I think I’m up to a solid four hours of crying so far today. I cried for hours before we went to the home school event. Then I dropped the kids at the Ikea daycare for a while so I could cry more. Then I cried the whole way home.

I feel like a worthless piece of shit. The whole drive home I cycled through various ways of dying.

But I keep coming round to the fact that Noah really couldn’t handle the kids alone. And no one else wants them. (Ok Jenny–not true. You want them. But you live in another country and the US government wouldn’t let you have them.) Just like no one wants me.

I feel so guilty for having kids. Someone like me had no business doing so. I do not have a family to give them. I don’t have a place in the world to offer. I am nothing.

lying

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(I’ll get back to that longer piece.)

My therapist said to me yesterday, “When people make a commitment to you they *completely mean it* in the moment. They aren’t lying. They truly mean that they want to support you. But later as they go through life they want to keep all of their options open, regardless of commitments to you. That’s not lying. It’s like an astrological difference. To *you* if you make a commitment it means you are stuck with it. Not everyone works that way.”

Yeah. Some people say they will do something and mean it. Some people don’t. I shouldn’t perceive it as “lying” because they “meant well”.

*snort* If at the end of the day I’m carrying a load by myself that other people swore up and down they would help me carry I can’t perceive that in a positive way. I think that if I try to give them the benefit of the doubt at my own expense then I’m a stupid piece of shit with absolutely no self-worth.

Maybe I shouldn’t be so “dramatic”. Whatever.

The only conclusion that I can draw from this is I am a stupid fucking moron if I *ever* believe anything that people say to me.

Parenting, research, privilege, and gender.

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I read research studies as a hobby. This has been true for many years. I read studies about a wide variety of topics. I have read just about everything written on the topic of incest that was available as of the time I last sat down with databases to search (I haven’t gone looking for research studies on incest in the past four years so I’m probably out of date now). I read about PTSD, parenting, child development, race, vaccines, breastfeeding, other more general mental illness issues, among many random one-off topics that aren’t normally part of my obsessive researching.

I confess that I do not bother to keep a running bibliography of all the studies I have ever read. I do not read these things so I can impress anyone else. I feel incredibly frustrated that so many people believe that if I am going to write about what I know then I must footnote everything.

Guess what? That’s an incredibly idiotic thing to demand of people who are not writing for an academic journal. Have you noticed how I have shunned academia? Yeah, fuck you too if you think I must cite everything I know or it is invalid.

 

I read studies that agree with my points of view and studies that argue with me. I can almost always sit down and present bullet point lists of the pro and con arguments if I’m asked to do so. No, I can’t fucking remember the name of the schmuck who did the study. That’s not how my brain works.

What is more important? That I be able to cite a small list of studies so I can win internet arguments or that I read absolutely everything I can and come to my own conclusions?

Have you ever read meta-research? The vast majority of studies that exist are unsound, inaccurate, biased, or otherwise not all that appropriate for basing your life around. Most studies are done on populations and every single thing that is true for a population can be disproved on an individual level. Which means to my jaundiced way of thinking that they aren’t all that valid.

Kind of like looking at you BMI as an indicator of health. Like Brad Pitt being deemed “unhealthy” if his BMI is too high. Err, his BMI is high because he has muscles and if we’re dinging people for that our “health standards” are kind of broken.

Just about all of science works that way when you go read study after study after study after study.

So no, I’m not going to spend the rest of my life carefully footnoting everything I write. Give me a break. I’ll do it for books. I’ll do it if I ever decide I want to participate in academia. Otherwise: bite me.

Saying that someone must cite everything or it isn’t valid is kind of like saying, “People who have only read one or two studies and they have memorized them are way more important to listen to than someone who has so much information in their brain that they are now uncertain what started from where.” Well, uhm… ok. Have fun with that.

I don’t mostly write because I am trying to convince people of anything. Have you noticed how I’ve never gone out and tried to write in a general forum addressing lots of people? I write to clear my head and figure out what I think. If that’s useful to other people, great. If it isn’t–don’t fucking tell me that I have to cite studies in order to prove what I think. Just ignore me and move on with your life.

That said, man do I wish I got to be the boss of other people. I really do.

I read about parenting because I have spent my whole life knowing that what I saw of “parenting” was bad and I need to understand what “good” parenting means.

Mostly what I find is that gender essentialism is a problem for everyone. When you look at research, depending on who does the research, you either find that it doesn’t matter what gender the parents are (kids from queer parents do great thankyouverymuch) to finding out that “men have a unique role”.

Men are supposed to teach kids how to rough house. Learning to rough house is how you learn more about your body’s physical boundaries and the boundaries of people around you. When a child is very young they climb all over you and you ignore a baby. They can’t help hurting you. As they get heavier, parents have to teach them how to be non-hurtful.

Kids are not born knowing that if they shove their knee into your belly it hurts. They just don’t know. They have to be told hundreds or thousands of times.

If I cared more about research I would be tapping my foot and looking at Noah with impatience.

Instead I look at the combination of things I learn and think “Hey–I think these people “proved” that fathers must teach these things because that is what they wanted to prove. That doesn’t mean it is TRUE.”

So I rough house with the kids I know. I rough house with my kids and I go to the park and wrestle with the home schoolers. I get the impression I am more rough with the kids than their fathers’ are in general. We live in Silicon Valley. Our fathers are mostly computer geeks. They aren’t rough and tumble brogrammers either. I am blissfully surrounded by men who are not so physical.

So I am instead. I brought the power tools into my relationship. If there is something to be fixed in my house we don’t wait for “father to come home” I fucking do it.

I do, however, think that parents play very different roles for children. I don’t think that is any more gendered than it has to be.

I believe that parents have responsibilities to their children because the parent of a given child has a unique ability to help that specific child.

Your kid is a mixture of you and another person. That means your kid is going to have some personality and/or physical traits like you. What have you learned about the world in your tenure pre-children? What did you learn about how to manage your personality in the world?

Your kid isn’t going to be exactly like you. What you teach them about your experience is about guidance, not requirements. You should not expect them to handle everything exactly how you would because they are also like their other parents. Presumably you mated with someone who had at least some traits that are different from yours, right?

Parents need to teach their kids what to expect from the world. If you are an asshole to your kids then you teach them the world is like that. They will never unlearn that point of view.

Daughters and sons who have fathers who think they are unimportant go on to find more people to treat them like they don’t matter. People want the world to make sense. Even if that means they pick dysfunctional relationship after dysfunctional relationship.

It matters how you treat your children. And some of how parents treat their kids is about gender and it is about privilege.

No one should scream at their kids. Not mothers and not fathers. That’s pretty well shown to be true. Screaming elevates cortisol and adrenaline and the more time you spend with those chemicals racing through a developing brain the worse time that kid will have becoming a calm, functional adult.

Fathers are often, but not always, bigger and stronger than their wives. Whenever you are standing next to someone who is much smaller than you then it is important that you consciously not be scary.

It isn’t fair that a large man is more inherently scary to a child than a woman but it is mostly true. Women have to work much harder to be scary compared to men. Men are often terrifying if they don’t consciously work to not be.

If you go look at history that made more sense. Men have often been more brutal than women. I’m not saying women aren’t brutal–far from it. I’m aware of how scary and nasty women can be let me tell you.

In any given family a mother might be more scary than a father but in general children spend more time with their mothers and they are more acclimated to the mother so she is more familiar and “normalized” than the father.

If a father stays home and the mother works then this seems to reverse. It’s not actually about gender. It’s about familiarity and acclimation. We have just had a long period of

 

And I’m going to stop there because I have two forking kids asleep on me. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I’m feeling oppressed and bitter lately. My attitude fucking sucks.

Ok if I’m going to have children fucking climbing on me from 4 fucking 30 in the fucking morning I’m going to need pot today. fuckfuckfuckity.

I apparently have strong priorities.

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I have some really bad habits. To start with: I like working out what I will do by talking to other people. Then in the process I discover my boundaries/priorities because I get explosively angry at the nice people who I am talking to when they suggest something that isn’t what I want to do. I hope I didn’t bite anyone’s head off yesterday. I tried to end conversations when I felt myself wanting to scream. Thank you so much for talking to me.

I wish I could figure out what I think without feeling the need to scream. I didn’t scream. Not once. But there were many hours of crying and feeling upset.

I cancelled the grief ritual registration. I’m trying to build community with the home school group and I don’t go out with them much. The group in general spends a lot more time with one another than my kids spend with them. If I weren’t going with the group I wouldn’t bother to go to Cirque right now anyway. I wouldn’t have bothered paying for tickets. And it was bought in a group package so I don’t think it would be easy to exchange.

I agreed to the Cirque trip months before I thought of the grief ritual for this year. Apparently I don’t like the idea of flaking on my original plans just because a better offer showed up.

I keep flaking on the nice lady who is point on the group trip. Canceling would be a lot like flipping her off and saying her effort wasn’t important because I found something better to do. People do that to me a lot. I don’t want to turn around and hand that down.

I’m sad about missing the grief ritual for a variety of reasons. I don’t have a whole lot of catharsis in my life. A nice lady said, “Do you even have grief left?” and I didn’t yell. *pat self on back* Yes. I have a lot of grief. I feel like I’m drowning in it.

I used to process by doing bdsm until I could scream/cry it out. A long time ago. Then play spaces changed and these days it isn’t ok to play in public the way I used to. These days you have to be careful to “not scare the newbies” so really brutal/loud beatings are considered inappropriate. I’ve had a lot of Dungeon Monitors (I kind of hate DMs) interrupt my scenes to tell me to be quiet. I just won’t try for heavy scenes in public any more. And I don’t have a sound proof house and I know all my neighbors.

I used to get kind of impatient with people who said they couldn’t scream in their home because they didn’t want to bother the neighbors. Ha. Things change.

I miss Castlebar. No one cared how much you screamed because we were in an industrial neighborhood at night near a freeway. No one could hear it or care. It was great. Ok, only having three walls so you froze all winter kind of sucked… but I still miss it. I liked it better than the fancier spaces where you have to be quiet to play. I’m not quiet.

Many people suggested exchanging the Cirque tickets and just going at a different time as a family. It’s not a bad suggestion. But it’s kind of like if your family was all going to Disney World and I said, “Well you don’t need to be there with them. Just go a different time.”

Of course you could, but then you would be missing the family trip.

I want to go see S and O and A as they experience Cirque. I’m trying to be a grown up who is consistently in their lives. My kids are growing up with them. I’m trying to find experiences my kids get to share with other kids. Mostly they are just stuck doing things with me when I can handle doing them. They don’t get to do a lot with other kids. They don’t have five days a week where they are with other kids.

I really do appreciate that people helped me figure out my priority list. It isn’t anyone’s fault that I do that by getting angry about suggestions that won’t work for me. I’m sorry.

I don’t think I actually yelled at anyone. I just had surges of emotion. I think I squashed them. I think I was appropriate. I am never sure though. I’m always afraid that my nice friends will talk to me then I’ll be a cunt then they won’t be my nice friends any more.

I lose a lot of sleep worrying about this. I’m sorry I get so angry over things I shouldn’t get mad about.

In other news I continue to not use much of my apathy enhancing drug. Holy shit does that mean that every emotional reaction feels like it is turned up to 11. I’m doing well at not screaming at the kids. I’m barely even yelling. I seem to be getting a point almost every day and I try to comfort myself with the idea that I’m barely raising my voice and I tend to cut it off mid-sentence… I still get a point for the AHHHP. The check mark thing on the wall is helping me. I feel humiliated when I have to give myself a point so it is getting easier to remember.

I can’t just “not yell” but I can avoid shame. It’s weird.

I really appreciate that people talked to me through my annoying hand wringing and crying. I’m sorry that my process works this way. I wish I were “calm and rational” but I’m not always.

What is more important to me–catharsis with mostly strangers, or bonding with kids I want to know through their childhoods?

Not a decision anyone else can make for me. People don’t understand what it means to me that I didn’t get to do the group activities as a kid. I did things alone. I never had a group because I moved all the time. Even when I did things ostensibly as part of a group I didn’t know anyone so people wouldn’t talk to me. They wanted to hang out with their friends. I want my kids to get to be friends with S and O and A. It’s a big fucking deal to me. I feel incredible guilt that I only get off my lazy ass and join the group for one activity a week.

I just can’t handle the driving most of the time. The home school group goes pretty far afield and just about all of their activities are a minimum of a 30 minute drive each way for us. I can’t do that every day. I freak out and have no spoons left for getting anything else done.

I have strongly internalized that home schoolers don’t stay home. They are out in the world. But our world is largely bound by the limits of our ability to walk. My kids are buff. I need them to be able to do heavy manual labor in less than seven years. I don’t think that the standard American kid raised in a car can turn around and just do that without a lot of pain and awful.

My kids will always be pulled out of the group a lot. Next year we will be gone for 4-6 months. I haven’t decided yet. The bare minimum will be 4 months but there is so much I want to see (so many people) that it may stretch out. That’s a long time to just be gone from their friends.

I need to provide them with time with kids. I just have to. That is more important to me than me getting a weekend of catharsis. It is inconvenient that there isn’t a convenient other ritual coming up. (There is one in Sacramento in a few months. On Shanna’s birthday. Sigh.)

I don’t think I can explain what being in a supportive environment while I cry feels like. I have spent my entire life knowing that it isn’t actually “ok” that I cry all the time. It is shameful and annoying and I need to shut the fuck up because I bother people.

I know.

My problems are my personal problems and they don’t belong to anyone else. I know. That’s an awful lot of why it feels like I need to just die when I feel overwhelmed. It isn’t ok to let my issues spill out and contaminate other people.

So going and meeting a woman who believes deep in her belly “all problems are problems for the community” is… intense.

The thing is, this kind lady isn’t available to be anything to me at any point after the ritual. She can tell me how it is in her village in Africa for people who grew up there. She’s busy and travels a lot and doesn’t live near me and she has no bandwidth to spare for random ritual attendees.

So my problems are still mine. Even though some people don’t have to bear their problems alone forever.

I struggle so much with bitterness.

The whole “Bank of Mom and Dad” isn’t really about the money. It is about having people who are deeply committed to helping you and supporting you through your life. They are invested in you being ok.

I don’t have that. I didn’t ever have grandparents. My aunts/uncles mostly abandoned me when my parents divorced because I went with my mother and no one liked her. My mom grew up in my position in her family. The unwanted child everyone hated. I don’t think she was the product of rape but no one ever liked her. I feel so sad for my mom. Then she grows up and her kids hate her too.

I fear that I’m on that road.

I have friends who have genuinely lost their mothers. How dare I feel so bad about choosing to cut off ties.

I had to. There is no other way to ensure that my kids don’t grow up in the same cycles I did. From when my niece was very young my mother told her that things were “all her fault”. So by 17 my niece was working at In-N-Out and supporting her sibling and mother out of guilt. She felt overwhelming pain at the idea of Auntie having to work in her 70’s because she (my niece) was the reason my Auntie spent her retirement money and now she (Auntie) doesn’t have any left.

What bullshit. Auntie had to work because Uncle Bob was a sonofabitch who spent money like it grew on trees to deal with his bitterness at having his wife’s family around. That is not my niece’s fault.

It’s just not and my kids will not grow up in that kind of fucking environment where kids are programmed to think that being born was a terrible burden on everyone around them and they should spend their life apologizing.

Just no.

I am experienced enough to know that people who think they can maintain their connection with family and “shield” their kids from the worst of it usually end up finding out twenty years later about horrible abuse that happened just behind the corner of a room. I know too many cases where children were raped in the few minutes it took to go get a toy from a room.

My children will not be spending their lives around recidivist rapists. I don’t fucking think so.

So I get to live with this grief. Doing the right thing doesn’t usually mean doing the easiest or the most comfortable thing. It means doing the right thing.

I chose to bring little people into this world. It is my responsibility to keep them safe during their childhood. I don’t think many people know better than me how fast things can happen when you are near evil people.

I have two wanted children. They are loved and a blessing. That is all they will fucking hear in their childhoods.

And they won’t have to miss out on doing things with their friends because their mom is selfish. They’ve been hearing about Cirque for months. Telling them they don’t get to do it with their friends would make me a selfish asshole.

I’d like to believe I am better than that. Maybe I’m lying to myself but I’ll keep trying anyway.

My friends gave me the advice they gave me largely because they believe I have the right to be the main character in my life. They believe I have the right to place my needs as the most important.

And I get mad at them for that. What does that say about me?

I’m not really “mad” at them. But my body does angrily reject the notion that I should be the only important person in my story. I don’t think I am more important than my kids. I don’t think that my preferences matter more than theirs. I don’t think I get to just selfishly usurp their life all the time. I do too much of that as is.

I’m not sure I’m right. I’m not sure there was a ‘right’ decision here. Ultimately I kind of decided “I’m going with the commitment I made first.” That may be faulty logic.

Thank you for talking to me. I wish I were less of an asshole.

Double booked. Shit.

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The home school group is going to Cirque. We bought tickets. Without checking dates I also scheduled going to a grief ritual. They overlap. Also that weekend I have a massage scheduled.

It is not physically possible to do all of these things. I can do Cirque and the massage or the grief ritual. The grief ritual is all day and in San Francisco.

I have about two days to decide what I’m doing and get a refund on the grief ritual. Or I could decide I’m doing the grief ritual and find someone to take my Cirque ticket and help Noah with the kids.

This decision has left me crying for hours. I don’t like feeling left out of family outings. That ties into all of my “I’m not welcome to be part of a family” stuff. I also spend a large portion of my life crying and trying not to cry because I know it isn’t “appropriate.” The grief ritual is pretty much the only place I have ever really been allowed to cry in front of people the way I need to cry.

I’m feeling really upset with myself for this decision. I feel like I have only lose here.

no time.

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I haven’t been waking up early enough to blog. I feel cranky about my kids being in my face from 15-30 minutes after I wake up until I fall asleep. This is challenging.

I have writing work I want to do. I am not sure when I will do it. I’m feeling some feelings about the life I choose.

back to “normal”

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By which I mean that Noah returned to work and I returned to days alone with the kids. We’ve had a couple good days in a row. On Thursday I made the kids go for a mile run with me in the morning (we did laps around the elementary school parking lot across the street so that everyone could go at their own pace). Then there was a lot of playing with art stuff. I moved the coffee table into the living room after years of banishment to the garage and they are dramatically increasing their random art play.

Then a neighbor kid came over for a play date. Then she left. Later a different (much older) neighbor kid came over to babysit while I went out and exercised more. I ran/walked three miles then came home and got my bike and rode that for another five miles. The day in total covered about nine miles. (Yesterday I rested.)

I was in a much better mood after the exercise.

Friday we didn’t get up and do lots of exercise. I spent the day cleaning house, reading, and chit chatting. I didn’t do much playing with them. I talk to them about their games while they are playing but I don’t really do the imaginative games with them very often. I will be random “outside the game” funny commentary.

Both days involved the kids barely yelling. There was a singular argument where they had trouble resolving a toy sharing issue per day. “Try again” worked just fine.

“Try again” “Asked and Answered” “What do you think should happen here?” Those are my stock phrases these days to avoid fighting. Very helpful.

The tally marks for yelling is helping a lot. The kids really want to pick breakfast. Today I’m going to make breakfast and I think the kids are going to get to decide. No, they haven’t had a day completely free of screaming yet but they’ve managed several days in a row of just one brief exclamation of emotion. I can fudge a teeny bit. They are three and five. They are doing well for them. They are trying really hard.

I struggle with dividing my attention between Noah and the kids when he is home all day for a while. He wants me to be a very different kind of person than they do. It is hard to meet all of the expectations at once. The kids are so much easier to spend time with when I can focus on them.

And we get along better when I’ve caught up cleaning the house (I have–I’m pretty happy with myself) so that it only takes the kids 5-15 minutes to clean up their stuff before they can move on to another big, messy activity. If there is one hard to clean project out at a time I’m usually nice enough to help clean up. If there are six I’m kind of an asshole. “No. I told you to clean it up as you went because that makes it easy. You ignored me so you get to untangle this. I’m reading.”

When we go through toys for donations I usually put them in the back of the van and drive them around for a month or so before I get to the donation center. I’m glad for this policy because sometimes the kids decide to get rid of stuff they aren’t really done with. I thought Calli was kind of crazy for wanting to get rid of the My Little Pony characters. Given that the only fighting we have done in the last two days has been over Shanna’s MLP we are getting the others out of the donation bag. I think that even if Calli has decided that Rainbow Dash is a butthead (Calli is very judgmental about how RD acted in a particular episode and she’s carrying a big grudge) she needs to keep the doll. She needs to have more than one that is hers so she doesn’t steal Shanna’s. Ok fine, Rarity is better. I hear you. You asked for Rainbow Dash so don’t steal your sister’s.

Sometimes I feel kind of baffled that this is what I really really want from life.

Shanna and I have been spending a lot of time talking about how much it sucks to try to learn self control. I agree that it is sucky to try and learn. I agree up one side and down the other. We still have to do it. I love you, baby. You can do it even though it is hard. It may take a while and anyone who expects you to be perfect at five is a big jerk and you don’t need to listen to them. By the time you are twenty I won’t be very patient with these things though. Just so you know.

Unconditional love and very conditional approval. “I will get mad sometimes about your behavior. You get to decide how you feel about that. Sometimes you will care and sometimes you won’t. Sometimes it is a good idea to ignore me and sometimes that’s a really bad idea. You won’t learn which is which until you try and you don’t like the results.”

Since I stopped tracking the books I was reading I’ve kind of exploded in reading. I think I’ve read twelve books. Only a few were blessed rereads. These Tamora Pierce books are popcorn. They are fun and really sweet. I’m looking forward to when my kids can read them. I’m going to have to buy my own copies because my friend wants her copies back for her own daughter. Sheesh. How unreasonable. (That’s my “kidding” voice.)

I haven’t read the new Dorothy Allison book yet. I may read that before I start the Immortals 4-some. I’ve been alternating between books I borrowed from K, books I borrowed from L, and really depressing psychology books. Well, suicide stuff. Is it depressing? I’m not sure. I’m looking for hope.

There has to be a way to get my brain to stop telling me I’m a worthless whore other than being stoned all the time. I’m the first one to admit that pot stops most of the repetitive negative thinking. Not 100% of it but I think it cuts out at least 80%. That is probably the most striking difference. (I medicated some for the past two days compared to having a week off. I didn’t medicate “fully” but I had a little. Fully medicating is 4-5 pills in a day. I’ve been having one.)

And I even managed to hit quota in December. I think it had been almost six months since I hit quota. When I get around to writing about sex being problematic then Noah feels the need to up his game. To both of our benefit. I think I’ll keep writing about it. I know that back in the old days when I was having sex with different people just about every day of the week I didn’t need a lot of foreplay. I agree that those were wonderful days. These days I don’t spend much time thinking about sex and I need more transition time and attention. Life is annoying like that. If you want to fuck me for the next fifty years you may have to change what you do over time. I am not that sprightly 23 year old just out of a sexless relationship where I felt teased but not satisfied all the time anymore.

Next month, February, marks the ten year mark since I met Noah. Time flies when you are having fun.

Today Noah is home and our routine is “disrupted” again. It’ll be ok. Maybe we will visit a martial arts studio near our home today. I’ll look at schedules. I want us, as a family, to go watch all of the studios within 4 miles of our house over the next few weeks. Then we can discuss which style looks best for us. By the end of this month I think we need to be enrolled.

Just keep swimming, right? (Swim lessons restart on Wednesday.) Park days don’t restart for another week because the home school group has a neat activity in Berkeley next week and I’m lame and won’t drive north for activities twice a week. Don’t have the spoons.

No plans for this weekend. It seem smart.

Under promise; over deliver.

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About six years ago I started seeing a guy for massages. A few months into knowing one another I said, “We are more ‘friendly acquaintances’ than ‘friends'” and he took that as a challenge. He’s been showing up at my house once or twice a month ever since. He helped me remodel my garage back when he had two days a week off instead of one. Now that he works six days a week he can only handle shorter visits and I wouldn’t dream of imposing physical labor on him. That’s what friendship means. Seeing one another’s limits.

Yesterday he said that he and his wife have been talking about what they have to offer me in terms of support because clearly I could use some. He said that he was not sure that he could make any type of permanent commitment, the most they could consider was maybe five years or until the WWOOF year since that’s six years away. I countered with the fact that I probably would not be able to trust a longer than three months at a time commitment. We will keep talking. We’ll see.

So I have been pretty sober lately (I took medication this morning because if I wake up at 3am sobbing it’s going to be a day) and that means the return of dreaming. I’m really sorry I’m dreaming again.

My mom used to forget to pick me up from school. In her defense I didn’t always live with her so it’s not like I was a day-in-day-out responsibility for 18 years and she oops forgot in the middle of that. It was pretty common for me to sit in front of school until dinnertime because that was when she thought of me. One memorable day involved sitting there till bedtime. Sometimes, in some places, a principal would come and sit with me and wait. I always knew we would move soon after that happened because my mom didn’t appreciate the principal’s nasty look.

I woke up thinking about my sister. She would shove me or hit me or knock me down. By the time I was eight or nine I would tell her, “If you hit me I will call 1-800-4-a-child and report you for abusing me.” This would result in hours of her screaming at me. There were lots of variations but the basic thread was that I was a stupid bitch and a cunt and she would show me what real fucking abuse was if I didn’t fucking watch myself.

For a while I asked some friends if we could have dinner once a month. I was slightly pestering. I asked repeatedly over a many month time frame. I was told “Oh yes oh yes”. Then my emails didn’t get returned. I started asking more than six months ago and it hasn’t happened yet. I don’t think I will ask again.

My bestie keeps talking about wanting to move out of the area. I’m having trouble containing my feelings when she does this. I understand that my role as her friend is one of support and it isn’t ok for me to tell her she can’t move if that is what is right for her. My job will be to help her pack and wish her well and keep in touch. If I lose out on most of the support I have in the process that is my problem and not hers. That is how life works.

I feel really pathetic for needing help and support. This is why I’m trying to get to know the neighborhood teenagers. They are more likely to still be around in a few years and I won’t take it personally when they want to move on in life.

I think I overly internalized the friend who dumped me for being a drug addict because of the pot. I mean, he was just building on my lifelong hatred of all of my family members. The only drug I ever saw them do was pot. So I attributed all of the behavior issues and problems to pot and I hated it with a passion until well into my mid 20’s. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I kind of “figured out” that the behavior problems were because of the meth and coke and crack and crank and whatever other names you want to use. I don’t even know which of those things are “the same” but I know that they are all words I heard in my home as a child. I just didn’t understand what they meant.

I tried pot because a friend told me to. Pot is the only thing that has ever broken through the repetitive negative thoughts. Pot seems to be the only way I don’t go through my day whispering “worthless whore” to myself over and over. I wish I could end the repetitive negative self-talk.

When people tell me “I want to come over, how about x day” and then they don’t come… it just builds on my sense that I am worthless. For my own self-protection I need to not try with those people any more. Even if that makes me feel bad and like I am abandoning people.

I feel horrible guilt that my spoon level requires that I only know people right now who are capable of under promising and over delivering. That is the only way I can know that I am not going to have to suddenly compensate for what feels like people lying to me.

I understand that people “didn’t mean to”.

I have to be nice to my kids all day every day. It doesn’t matter what other people mean. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Which results in an awful lot of my friends feeling like they can’t reach out or offer anything to me at all. Because they can’t PROMISE and so they feel that what they have to offer is worthless.

Man it seems like all we are going to do is fuck each other up.

This is part of that “I am toxic waste and will hurt everyone around me” thing.

I appreciate the people who are telling me not to go off my meds. I appreciate that people who show up at my house and actually watch me interact with my children over prolonged periods of time tell me that I should be medicated. Honestly not as much the other kind of people. Sharing that you think you are better because you medicate and you suspect it is true of me is different than telling me what to do. (K–you totally nailed it.) Splitting hairs is what I do.

If what you mean to say isn’t being heard how you mean it then you need to be willing to adapt your message for a different audience. That is what communication is about.

I’m kind of good at that and kind of shitty. Embrace the dichotomy. Resiliency is based on opposing traits. I hear. From “experts”. Psh. Who gives a shit. I am not actually all that impressed with science. Go look at meta-science about research. It’s all crap. But it’s all we have.

There’s a Carsie Blanton song about that: All We Got.

(Did it work?)

I spend a lot of time every day being grateful for Noah. He grew up with a level of mental illness I will hopefully never reach. It taught him a lot about not looking to other people for his reality. It taught him that he might have to actually defend himself from people who want to hurt him. And yet his dad is still there. Fully committed until one of them dies.

When you say “for better or worse” no one promises that there will be more better than worse.

Living with Noah isn’t always perfect. He pisses me off sometimes. But he is consistently kind and generous with me. He meets his commitments. He’s sure not to commit to something he can’t do.

I think I will get mad at every person who is ever in my life. Anger is how I find my boundaries. It isn’t the most ideal reaction–yeah I fucking know. But Noah has earned a lot of trust from me.

He pisses me off, but when I figure out that I’m angry I can walk away and defuse my anger and come back and negotiate calmly (ok my tone may not be perfect) and there can be a resolution. And he won’t agree to something he can’t do. We find a way to reach something we can both live with. Then he fucking does what he says.

It’s…

When he does fuck up it usually makes him feel worse than me. And at this point the fuck ups are at the level of “I thought we had the ingredients for _____ meal but we don’t.” Uhhh, I can live with that. It’s my fault we ran out anyway because I didn’t bother going to the grocery store.

Oh man. I can feel the medication now. Thank g-d. Arms hurt.

It just occurred to me that I have a ‘brother’ tag and a ‘daddy’ tag and a ‘mother’ tag… but nothing for my sister. I think I’m still afraid of her. She doesn’t live that far away from me. She knows where I live (err, if she is capable of remembering). She uhh consorts with undesirable folks. To be an uppity piece of shit about it.

Kids are up.

Happy 2014.

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I don’t really want to write a retrospective of the year. It was a better year than most for me. Maybe one of the happiest of my whole life. My PTSD symptoms continue to be challenging but I don’t think I got dumped by a long-term friend. I didn’t have to move. I got to buy anything I wanted. I did get support even if it didn’t feel like “enough” (that’s not really anyone else’s fault–I’m not even sure what “enough” would mean) and that is a big step up from most of my life.

We had dinner last night with my current “bestie” and her family. She’s the only person I talk to almost every day who doesn’t live with me. That person changes over the years. I try at this point to not hold on to attachment to a specific person needing to be there for me forever. I will never have a BFF. Britt decided she didn’t want me and that’s fine. My Jenny loves me and will love me forever but she’s far away and I won’t ever get to spend a lot of time with her again. That’s ok. I still love her with all my heart and soul. It is what it is.

My bestie told me she doesn’t think going cold turkey off pot is a good idea. She watched me cycle emotionally a lot yesterday and she flat told me that she thinks I am doing a self-hating thing. This is why I pick opinionated people as friends. They tell me what they really think. Even though sometimes I’m an asshole in response. I’m way better about the asshole thing than I used to be.

I am trying to let go of feeling sad about all of the relationships that have ended. People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime and you will never know who is in which category until you die. That’s when you finally have perspective on the story. It will all be ok in the end.

2014 needs to be a year of not spending money. I need to take the long term financial planning stuff seriously. I have some expensive goals.

Otherwise I think that mostly I need to work on being more brave. And kind. I need to yell less.

I happen to love a lot of other people who also have psychological challenges of their own. I’m not the only one with anxiety and panic disorder and PTSD and depression. If I want those people in my life I am going to have to consciously and deliberately keep inviting them in or they won’t be in my life. They can’t invite themselves in. Or they won’t. I don’t know which and from where I am sitting it doesn’t matter. It all comes out the same in the wash.

People are never going to be “all I want” from them. I have to manage that. It isn’t anyone else’s fault. It isn’t my fault either. It isn’t anyone’s fault near as I can tell. It just is. I can either be kind and loving or I can be nasty and alone.

I don’t want to be alone. I really don’t.

I’m looking forward to 2014. I have so much to look forward to. I love spending time with my kids so much. I am deeply grateful to the friends in my life. Noah is the source of all my safety and security. I cannot begin to express how much I notice that. I need to treat Noah as well as he treats me. I’m really grateful that I get to have someone who loves me this much in this lifetime.

I won’t keep everyone forever and ever. I need to not feel that it happens because I am a worthless piece of shit. That’s not it. Sometimes the people who can’t be in my life do truly love me… but sometimes love is not enough. I am hard. That will always be true. I need to transfer the bitterness about losing some people into gratitude for the people who can stay. It isn’t anyone’s fault that some people have to go. It’s just life.

Part of the challenge for this year will be to get my body to hurt less. I hope to get my brain to stop chanting that I am a worthless whore. It’s a goal.

I’m really looking forward to my birthday this year. I was talking to Noah about it this morning. It looks like I will take off for nearly a week alone because my birthday is on a Wednesday and I think it may be a good idea to schedule the half marathon in Portland the weekend before or the weekend after. I will check with blacksheep and race schedules and decide for sure. Shanna says she is not interested in going to the Unschooling conference in Washington the weekend of her birthday. She wants to be here with friends.

I’m looking forward to waking up alone on my birthday somewhere far from my home. I will have no one and nothing to take care of except my base bodily needs. That sounds like the best birthday ever right now. Maybe I’ll go dance in the trees all by myself.

Mint review 2013

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I was a spendthrift. I can tell the truth. Oh man I went over budget. It’s a good thing I budget for less money than Noah actually makes. It’s a good thing my budget involves a lot of “over pay the mortgage” so that when I need to fudge there is wiggle room.

I’m not going to do screen shots this year because I didn’t wake up before the kids. Oh well.

Your Spending

CATEGORY SPENDING
Total $125,112.29
 

 
Home $50,405.35
Food & Dining $17,442.16
Health & Fitness $11,592.98
Taxes $9,023.36
Shopping $6,251.43
Financial $5,500.00
Kids $5,353.53
Auto & Transport $4,407.14
Entertainment $3,734.21
Gifts & Donations $3,519.97
Bills & Utilities $3,311.19
Travel $2,468.47
Business Services $1,384.35
Personal Care $385.00
Fees & Charges $233.15
Pets $100.00

I wish that “shopping” was broken down more in this table. Hey wait! I can do that.

Your Spending

CATEGORY SPENDING
Total $6,206.43
Clothing $2,824.77
Invisible $ – cash $2,473.00
Sporting Goods $532.92
Books $208.76
Electronics & Software $143.88
Shopping $23.10

Yikes that’s a lot on clothing. I am starting to buy clothing in the post-breeding-stage. That’s a lot of why that is so expensive. I am buying things I really like even if they are kind of expensive because my size has been stable for more than a year post-marathon and almost everything I own has been through a few pregnancies. When I started the pregnancy journey I was more than 30 lbs heavier than I am now. I’m trying to feel “justified” in spending money on clothes for me. Like, that really pretty sweater/dress I found in Portland. That was over $300 just for one thing. But I’m going to wear it daily for many years. Also lots of shoes this year. We don’t buy cheap shoes in general. Running shoes aren’t cheap and I’m trying to not fuck up my body more than necessary. But it feels like a lot of money. I bought more than one article of clothing from the local boutique place I can walk to. I look really hot in the clothes (I buy them for Noah to see–it results in him trying harder at sex.) but they aren’t cheap. I bought many more pairs of pants because my waist is approximately 5″ smaller than it used to be and I’m really tired of my clothes falling off. So I feel guilty and justified (kinda) at the same time. I know a lot of people who shop at thrift stores. I get violent and angry because I can’t shop and watch my kids at the same time. I wish I had more patience.

Because I’m not doing the screen shot of the pie graph you can’t see easily that home was 40% of our spending this year. That is way below where I want it to be. In order to get home to the solid 50% I want it to be I will have to noticeably cut back spending in other areas. And if I’m honest mortgage was only 62% of the “home” budget which means… I’m way under where I want to be on mortgage repayment. $30,000 in the year is only $4600 above on mortgage. Pitiful. I don’t think I put the overall mortgage below $200,000 this year. I think we are within a stone’s throw of it but we aren’t quite there. But I have the Backyard I’ve Always Wanted. Trade offs. The back yard I always wanted cost right around $13,000. Ouch. Good thing I get to keep it permanently and I had it constructed such that my grandkids will play on it.

We maxed out the 401k contributions permitted (I don’t even know what that is because I don’t see it–it happens before I touch the money and I’m too lazy to look up on the internet what the limit was last year) I put $5500 into an IRA in my name (w00t) and I thought I contributed to the 529 but I see no sign of it in bill pay. Shit. Ok, that’s going to be added to the budget for this year right now. Luckily what we have put in it so far has dramatically increased. We are something like 20%-25% of the way towards what we want to have saved for Shanna’s education. I need to figure out what kind of account to open in Calli’s name this year because I’m not sure we want another 529 in the family. They are difficult to use for anything other than school and there is the possibility that one or both of our kids won’t want college. 529s can have the name on them changed so I suppose I want to think of the two combined accounts as interchangeable between kids.

I spent $4800 at the dispensary last year. Thank goodness that California allows me access to a medication that makes my life so much better. Therapy was $4100. Massage was only $1400. I think I am going to mostly reverse the massage and dispensary quantities this year. That will mean Noah is also getting more body work. He’s making all this damn money he should benefit from it.

Because I simply have to start contributing more to kid college funds their slice of the pie will probably be higher next year. Oof.

Noah earned $115,001 his primary job in 2013 after taxes/401k/etc. He continues to shock me with how much his brain is worth. I mean, look at the guy–who would guess? (I kid. Obviously.)

  • Other Income
    $18,492

I don’t think I’ll call myself a professional writer any year soon. But that is how much I made from people randomly finding my book on Amazon before it was kicked off the Kindle store. This year I am going to deal with my fear of rejection, work on both books to make them slightly more marketable and start the process of getting rejected by every publishing house in America. This is not a fun anticipatory process.

We ended the year with $47,538 in cash. I think that is higher than the previous year and it is no thanks to my spendthrift ways. It is entirely because Noah is capable of out-earning my spending.

My stated goals for 2014 (maybe I’ll check this later and maybe I won’t): I would like “home” spending to be more than 50% of our spending and I would like “mortgage” to be more than 90% of the home spending. I would like to end 2014 with $55,000 in cash. I would like to contribute $5500 to my IRA and $4,000 toward kid funds with it being split between the 529 and some other kind of account in Calli’s name. I need to figure that out soon. I would like to overall spend less than $110,000 next year. Transferring money to the IRA and 529/other savings will not “count” against that total because Noah will earn more than $110,000 and I am trying to not beat myself up for transferring money. That’s not the same as “spending”. I’m trying to convince myself. We’ll see.

Let’s see how it goes. Just keep swimming swimming swimming.

Just another morning whine.

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I don’t think I know “the right answer” for other people. For one thing, I am not very capable of understanding the limitations of other peoples lives. They are simply not visible to me.

I have been basically alone my whole life. Until seven years ago. Up to that point I did not spend enough time with anyone to calibrate to their needs. It is a particular blind spot for me. And Noah is… different from other people. The things he needs me to consider and dance around are few and far between and way far away from other peoples boundaries.

When people ask me for advice I often wonder why they want to hear my opinion anyway. Everything I think is going to be irrelevant to your life for one reason or another. What I say will be “wrong” for you.

I feel sad.

Apparently we misunderstood some pieces of what we heard this weekend. We do that, individually and collectively. Things are changing but I don’t know how.

I was talking to the only person I talk to every day (other than Noah and the kids) about feelings of intimacy and friendships. I think that people sometimes feel closer to me than they otherwise might because they have been reading my blog for a while (maybe a long while.)

But that’s like staring at someone through a one way mirror and calling it a relationship.

I don’t know very many people. Not well. Not many people are willing to spend enough time with me for me to calibrate. They can’t handle the adjustment process. They need more space. But I’m still supposed to be the one pursuing the friendship even though I’m periodically told to back off. I’m just supposed to take it as a pause and then restart the onslaught of trying to beg someone to be my friend.

I don’t know very many people. I don’t know what you like or want or think. I don’t know what is right for you or your family. I have no earthly idea. I don’t understand why you do anything at all.

The person I talk to every day told me, “People who don’t show up much are not people you need to think of as “friends”. They are part of your community and you may love them but you don’t need to think of them as friends. Your friends show up without you having to ask and ask.”

Are you sure? Then I haven’t had a lot of friends… ever. All of my relationships are about me asking and asking and asking for time. I don’t get asked much. I never have. The main people who have ever asked me for time have been men. That’s part of why I have been raped so many times. Those were the only people who wanted to spend time with me. And that was the cost of admission.

These days I do get specifically invited to a lot of home school events. But that doesn’t exactly feel like *I* am being invited. I am welcome to bring my kids to be friends with their kids as long as I can keep my mouth appropriate enough to not get kicked out.

Coming off an anxiety medication I have been on for years is hurting physically and emotionally. I feel so sad and so worthless.

Shanna was mad at me last night and she told me she wanted to throw me in the trash. Kids do that kind of thing. She doesn’t “mean it” and I’m “not supposed to react”.

Story of my fucking life

Maybe if there hadn’t been so many people who said that to me maybe it would feel more like a joke and instead of like my place in the world.

And I can’t react to that today. I can’t cry or freak out in front of her. I have to more or less treat it like it didn’t happen. Kids say stupid shit and parents can’t hound them for it. That’s not developmentally appropriate.

I’m hoping that some year of my life I won’t have to swallow these things and then be nice to the people who say them to me.

I want to cut. But I was told that I couldn’t do it until next year. Not during the holiday season. I agreed. And no, I’m not willing to go on a medication that would take the “high” our of cutting. The drug would cause me pain basically ALL the time to prevent me having a positive feeling from an action I do rarely and only with great need. Doesn’t that sound self-hating to anyone else?

Hurt yourself all day every day so that you can never feel relief from pain no matter what you do.

I’d rather kill myself and I’m using fucking hyperbole. If someone forced me on to a medication that was as awful as this one sounds I don’t think I could bear that.

I already hurt too much. I don’t need things that add to my daily ambient constant pain. I can’t bear it. I am pretty much at capacity.

I feel so worthless.

My sister’s birthday is coming up. A little less than three weeks. She will be turning 44. I wonder if I will ever see her again.

I think it’s time for me to stop trying to make friends. I think I need to stop inviting people. I can’t. I hurt so much. Sure, I’m a selfish piece of shit. Tell me something new.

It is going to be very hard over the next few years to manage my kids. That is going to take my spoons. All of them. And more. And I do not have reserves. And I don’t have a good back up plan. I don’t have the spoons to keep trying to make them when other people change what they are up for.

I get what people have left over. I am not a priority to be arranged around. If they have nothing better to do I’m what is left. That isn’t because anyone is doing anything mean to me–they aren’t. That’s life. Everyone has to put on their own oxygen mask. I understand. I don’t even think I’m bitter. Just sad.

These are the holes where my mom and my sister should be. But they aren’t. Because just like I used to pay the price of being raped for the illusion of “friends” I had to pay the price of being abused to have the illusion of “family”.

I can’t expose my children to that kind of reality.

We sat down yesterday and talking about screaming and yelling in the house. Collectively all of us need to just stop. We agreed that we will have a tally sheet on the door to the garage (we see that space a lot). Every time you get too loud you get a point. The person with the fewest number of points gets to pick breakfast the next day. (Noah is kinda getting a cheat because he goes to work most days…)

That’s proactive, non punishing, and gives the kids something to strive for that they want. They like deciding breakfast. They pick very different things than Noah or I. Eventually, if they make progress we may eat a lot more cereal and pie for breakfast. I can live with that.

Being able to just say “point” in response to raised voices is deescalating by itself. “I’m acknowledging what you are doing and asking for it to stop.” All with one word. Fabulous.

I am scared that I am going to pour everything I have into being nice to my kids and I still won’t be nice enough. I will still hurt them badly just because I am bad.

I should stay off the internet today. I’m in one of those compulsively checking every website stage. I’m looking for connection I’m not going to find.

Being sheltered, ignorance, and safety.

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I asked a friend, “Do you think my kids are sheltered” and she kind of snorted a little and said, “No.”

*blink*

My kids have had a very carefully crafted and shaped introduction to the world. Nothing happens to them by accident other than having adults stop showing up. Ok, I yell/scream more than I should but I’m fairly aware that in the larger scheme of things… I’m really not that scary of a parent. I’ve seen the spectrum. We are far on the gentle end. I have non-gentle moments that scare some of the truly gentle people, but the scary people know I don’t rate.

My kids have heard the word sex a fair number of times. It comes up in books like It’s So Amazing! about becoming a big sister and all. We watch nature documentaries and the BBC is obsessed with showing what it might have looked like for prehistoric animals to mate. And they get even more excited when it isn’t “animal style”: “This is the first species that mated face to face…. oooooh.”

So my kids understand that sex/mating is how you get babies. They understand that having sex when you are too small can seriously harm your body and they have been told that there are jerks in the world who don’t care how they hurt people. You need to tell people not to touch any of your genitals until you are grown and ready to handle that.

That is what they know about sex. I’m not entirely sure they understand that a penis goes in a vagina. I’m not sure that is uhhh part of their consciousness. But mating = babies is well established for Shanna; Calli seems to be able to understand as well because she sees animals humping and she says, “Babies!”

Are they sheltered? They’ve never seen humans have sex (err, unless you count pre-homo sapiens on BBC documentaries…) and I don’t discuss my sex life.

I talk to my kids about general health and how for every activity you engage in there is potential risk. When you touch other humans there are a wide variety of illnesses or diseases that can be past around. That’s why we wash our hands a lot. Mostly you would just pass colds or flus but there are other diseases to worry about.

Calli has gotten a cold sore. (We share cups and I have herpes. I’m struggling with my guilt.) We talk about herpes. We talk about what having a virus permanently in your body means. We talk about how things like herpes can live on other parts of your body (I didn’t actually mention genitals… yet) so once you have it you have to be a bit more careful with your mouth.

I’m talking more and more about personal space bubbles in general. How do we act appropriately towards other peoples’ bodies. I’ve been talking about hitting stuff since they were a few months old (I had no expectation it would stick).

Apparently for other people “being sheltered” means “being ignorant”. To me that seems very dangerous and counter productive. Do you want your kids to be able to keep themselves safe or not? Unless you plan to follow them for the rest of their lives and control everything they do… uhm… I can’t see how ignorance is a good plan.

It isn’t about “bad things could happen”. It is more about having the ability to understand that decisions happen in a larger context. I understand that my kids are pre-rational and they are literally not capable of considering these things on their own at this point. I don’t expect them to do so. Instead, I shelter them and I share my inside voice so they can hear what decision making processes look like.

I watch my kids intensely when we are around other people. I stare less when we are at home. That’s on purpose. I want my kids to be able to exist without requiring attention 24/7. That takes practice. I say, “Right now you need to meet your own needs because I am not able to do what you want.”

I believe with all my heart and soul that it will be my fault if my children reach adulthood unprepared for the things that they will find. Sex, drugs, education, finding a job, making money–these are all things that I believe I have to prepare them for doing.

My approach to sex education largely revolves around the idea that sex is an awesome activity that pretty much all humans are interested in to at least some degree (I have explicitly stated a few times “Sometimes some people are never interested in sex and that is ok too.”) and unfortunately there is a lot to know before you can make safe choices. You have to know how to keep your body and your heart safe. Then go have fun.

I’m not getting into nitty gritty. I don’t intend to talk to my kids about oral or anal sex in the next decade or so. Eventually I will probably say something to the effect of “Sex counts no matter which part of your body it involves–your vagina is not the be-all-end-all” and then I don’t think I will say much more. I don’t want to get into it with my kids. That feels like my line. And I’m not bringing those things up pre-puberty. Pre-puberty all I need to talk about is “sex makes babies so if you aren’t ready to devote your life to another human being you aren’t ready for sex. And when you are too small you can cause permanent physical damage–just wait till your body is ready.”

I do not believe that keeping children in ignorance prepares them for the world. I think it is extremely dangerous. I think that ignorance leads to the inability to keep yourself safe. I’ve seen that a lot.

Most of the people I know who have been the most extreme victims of abuse and rape were very ignorant. They had no ability to detect signs that danger was coming.

That will not be happening to my children.

There will not be any chance on this whole fucking planet for people to groom my unknowing children. Just no. I will g-d damn shelter them while that is appropriate and I will consciously teach them what to look for after that.

I cannot behave any other way in good conscious. I don’t believe we live in an easy or safe world. I believe the world isn’t much more dangerous than it used to be–I think the dangers are shifting more than becoming greater or smaller.

I also know a lot of people who were taught how to be safe. Their parents didn’t use my techniques (totally cool and all–I am not using the One True Way) but they did teach them enough.

If I knew what that enough was I might do that instead of my path but I don’t. I think that part of that path is having parents who instinctively keep themselves safe and they unconsciously pass on those instincts/preferences. I lack the instincts. I have to do all of this consciously. So that’s all I can teach.

I think that what I’m trying to do is pass on as few taboos as I can. There are a few taboos I pass on whole-heartedly (incest, animals, adult/child sex) and beyond that I’m trying to avoid telling my kids that people are bad for being into whatever they are into. I spend a lot of time saying, “It’s not my thing but it’s cool that other people like it.” That applies to food, music, clothes, movies, and eventually… sex. People are allowed to like what they like.

People arrive at wherever they get to because of a complex mix of physiological, psychological, and environmental factors. Who the fuck am I to judge what their life created?

I’m no one. That’s who.

I get to judge for me. I get to shelter my kids for a little while. I get to carefully present the world to them for a few years because I am blessed with enormous privilege. I am able to keep my kids safe. That is not a privilege that everyone has.

It is interesting when I run across the idea that being sheltered means being ignorant. That makes me shiver with fear. Oh god oh god oh god.

It isn’t just that “bad things could happen”. It is “you will not be equipped to make decisions you will have to make.” Everyone has to make mistakes. Everyone has to try things out that aren’t going to work. I’m not trying to prevent my kids from ever having a bad experience–that’s not my goal. I couldn’t and wouldn’t strive for that as a life experience.

If what I am doing works (cross your fingers) then my children will be able to pick their risks with their eyes wide open. I don’t know which risks they should take. They will have to take risks. I don’t want them taking stupid risks out of ignorance. I want them taking smart risks out of deliberate decision making.

But it’s a process. They won’t be like that at 17 and I can’t feel like a failure. No one can at 17. Your brain isn’t there yet. I’ll have to keep my fucking mouth shut as they make a whole series of stupid mistakes.

My goal is that my children will not understand that they are working within a frame until they are adults and then they will probably at some point notice that other people lack the frame. Hopefully they will be glad it is just there for them.

That’s my goal. I don’t know if it will work or not. I have no crystal ball and sometimes that really pisses me off.

Oh man breaks are awesome.

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I am enjoying the fuck out of this time off. I am relishing it. If it were a pile of money I would take all my clothes off and rub it all over my body. It’s awesome. Being not-in-charge is intoxicating.

I spent a while today talking to a friend who is Not Having Children. (Go her.) She talked about appreciating the spontaneity of her life. I felt some envy. But not for one minute do I wish my children away. I just like breaks.

I appreciate that despite my flailing and being generally obnoxious I have really good friends. Even the people who “disappoint me” aren’t doing much wrong. They are doing what they have to do to take care of themselves. I respect that. I can still be hurting even while I’m glad you are taking care of you.

Somehow things will work out.

When I talk to other people with PTSD it is very common to hear that none of them want to plan anything for the future. They don’t believe they will have a future. There will be no lessoning of symptoms. No peace.

It’s kind of funny, even in the midst of my hand-wringing ohgodohgodohgod anxiety I am (at least occasionally) able to stop and take a deep breath and recognize that this moment sucks but they won’t all suck.

When my therapist works on EMDR stuff and she has me think very consciously about my children as they wake up in the morning. I am very lucky and more mornings than not I get to climb into bed with my kids and look at their beautiful faces as they wake up. They both light up the minute they see me. They are so excited to see me.

Not every moment sucks. Some moments take my breath away with joy.

I like breaks because I have a chance to process my anxiety and stop and think “I miss my babies.” When they are ALWAYS here I never miss them and that’s hard. Absence makes the heart grow fonder… or some shit.

I’m think think thinking about how I am going to get through next year. I will have to get a handle on my anxiety. Good luck. I will have to stop screaming. No really. All four of us need to sit down and have a “family meeting” about this. We need to figure out what kind of loss of privilege is appropriate for all four of us because each and every one of us has to do this.

We love each other too much to keep treating one another this way. We can do better.

I probably won’t socialize very much with grown ups. Luckily grown ups are able to sustain relationships through large gaps. Kids can’t really do that. I need to save all my spoons for managing my body and my family. Even if that bothers me. Even if I feel boring or bored or whatever.

I know that despite this existential loneliness I feel I am not alone. I know that I am loved. I know that many of the people who love me are not able to see me very often and that doesn’t change the fact that they love me.

Do you know that I sit here and go through name rosters in my head and love you? That is what I have learned to do to combat the attachment issues. If I don’t do this… I forget. When I run into someone I haven’t thought about in a long time I feel no emotion towards them at all. I have to rehearse and remind myself of my love. Even when I’m mad at you. Even when I’d like to chew you out for something. You are still on the list and I consciously think about how much I love you. I have to or I would forget. That’s part of how it works for me. I have to try hard to keep loving you. I think you are worth it. I am willing to spend time nearly every day whispering all the names of the people I love.

Thank you so much for loving me. I don’t feel worthy but I will do my best. I am so sorry for all the difficulty I cause. I’m sorry for all the distress I cause.

I don’t want to be invisible. And this is just the ride I’m on.

bitterness and “family”

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I have an unusual amount of hostility towards the concept of family. I understand very well that family is not just made up of blood and dna. Family is about showing up consistently and keeping commitments.

I have a lot of expectations about family.That’s my problem.

When people occasionally say things like, “I could stay with you for a holiday because I don’t have to visit my family this year” I know I am not family. Even though they might extensively (when it is convenient) talk about how I am chosen family. No I’m not family. You leave me behind when you go back to your family.

I suppose most people are used to having a “mothers side” and the “fathers side” and they don’t cross pollinate much so it makes sense that people think they can have me as “family” even though I am not integrated in any way with anyone else in their family. Noah has a great aunt who doesn’t talk to any of the relatives who live within walking distance of her house.

I grew up with my Auntie living in a house full of my family. They were my family. They were there. They didn’t take care of me much and mostly they hated me but they were actually there. I don’t even know how to describe what makes it so different. My “cousins” were related neither by blood nor marriage (though my cousin and their mom finally got married a couple years ago after more than twenty years together so now we are related by marriage).

They were around. I ate my meals with them. I talked to them. I dealt with problems with them. I didn’t like them and they didn’t like me but that is life. It doesn’t matter if you like your family you show up and do things to help them anyway. When I had spare weekends it was expected by my entire family that I would spend them at my sister’s house cleaning because she needed help. Family just shows up to make sure you don’t fail because you are too weak to handle everything alone. Family doesn’t need to be invited. They are just there.

Outside of registering for a school at some point I am pretty sure I will never again ask anyone for any kind of long term commitment to my kids. That hasn’t gone so well. It goes well until people are out of spoons and then my kids get dropped. Their needs aren’t truly “mandatory” for these other people, just me. I’m the only family my kids have. I’m the only one who will just show up and make sure they have what they are supposed to have.

I feel very sad about that.

It feels like it is all my fault. If I hadn’t been such a needy piece of shit…

Dude, my needs are nothing compared to the needs my sister had as a parent. She had aunts, uncles, her mother, and her siblings all show up constantly because she needed help. My sister didn’t spend a lot of time dealing with the problems in her life because there were always people there trying to help.

I’m not saying I’m looking for codependence. I think I have alienated enough people by not wanting their help that the door couldn’t even be opened for me at this point.

But I notice that when people are having a hard time with meeting their life obligations they are absolutely ok with just dropping the commitment to my kids. They weren’t the idiots stupid enough to get knocked up. This is my problem.

People have to put their own oxygen mask on first. I get it. But I’m sitting in a row where I’m the only one available to help my kids. So maybe I’ll get mine on first and maybe I’ll make sure my kids are ok first. Because if I don’t take care of them no one will. I am thoroughly ok with the idea of them surviving and having to navigate the world without me over the idea of me living and them dying. Oh fuck no. I won’t save me first. I wouldn’t be able to live with the loss.

I’m very scared because we need to update the custody paperwork stuff with our lawyer. One person who was supposed to be a point person for our estate up and moved to the East Coast and we don’t really speak any more. One person no longer speaks to me because she didn’t like what I had to say about her family in the first book. (Fair enough.) And the other folks are just getting… busy. They aren’t available any more. Sorry.

But if I want to call and chat that would be ok.

Wait… you gave me a lifelong commitment that you are now backing out on and you think I could call you to chat for emotional support?!

I’m sorry, have we met? I’m Krissy Gibbs. I have severe trust issues and if you don’t jump my hurdles then no we will never be having intimate chats about my personal problems. I can write them on the internet for anyone at all to see–that’s different.

I only sit down for intense one on one conversations when the person has shown a pattern of showing up for commitments and prioritizing me in their personal life. Prioritizing my kids is awesome and I’m grateful but it is different from prioritizing me. There aren’t many people in this whole world I have sat down and actually talked about my issues with.

People can’t handle it and I’m not going to open myself up for more rejection from someone who is already in the process of rejecting me. I’m not stupid.

I have to keep this train running. Whether any one else wants to help or not. That means that I can’t lean outside my comfort zone for something that for someone else would be support and for me just creates more stress.

I support other people managing their boundaries with me. By all means push me away when I get intense. (But do people really have to keep telling me, “I stopped reading your blog. It’s too intense.” Do you not understand that my assumption is that people don’t want to read it and I am shocked by the people who continue to keep up? You don’t need to tell me. That was already what I assumed.)

“Here confide your sadness and lack of coping skills while I flip you off with both hands the whole time.”

Err, I’ll pass. Thanks. I don’t exactly feel like I have a warm and fuzzy welcome.

I’m scared of the future. I feel it was inappropriate for me to have children because I have no where for them to go where they are actually wanted and safe if something happened to me. They have their choice of abusive biological families or my friends who don’t really want them. Some of my friends would do it if it meant keeping them from being abused but they don’t want them. And the joint custody stage is just over.

I’ll adapt. I always do.

Sometimes I draw great comfort from the fact that whatever things happen to me at this point–no matter how unfortunate they might be–I have been through worse and I ended up on top. I will continue to reinvent myself to be whatever I need to be.

Yeah, I will always have rocky periods. I will always struggle with general self-worth, I’m afraid. But I will keep going and I will keep changing whatever I need to change about myself in order to meet the carefully very small list of things I have agreed to do.

Under promise and over deliver. That’s my motto.

I have a great network though. And talking about my issues with the word “family” is probably pretty alienating. There have been a fair number of people who have told me they consider me “family”. My response, “Really? And just how many of your “family” functions have I been at? None. Yeah. We aren’t family.”

We are friends. We can be tribe. I love the word tribe. We can be contacts. We can be a network. We can be part of a community together.

I love and respect you and think you are doing as well by me as you should be to some random friend. But you don’t treat me like family and don’t demean me and your family by conflating the two.

Friends share what they have left over. Family keeps giving whether they have “extra” or not.

My aunt didn’t take me in to live with her because she had extra spoons. That was not a woman who had a spare *anything* in her life. She took me in any way. Even though I was violent and reactive and difficult and I acted out sexually all over the place. She let me live with her until *I* left. She never asked me to leave. Auntie never withdrew her support. That was all me.

When Auntie was sick she fucking got out of bed and took care of everyone anyway. That’s what you do. (As I got older I sent her back to bed and I did her chores. Because that is also what you do.)

It is hard feeling simultaneous gratitude for what people have given me and sadness that they are done. It is hard dealing with the bitterness of being told I’m family and watching as I’m dropped. That’s what you do with friends when you want to do the slow fade because you don’t have the ovaries to say, “I want to end this relationship because I can’t handle how crazy you are.”

Fair point. No one needs to handle how crazy I am. I get it. I’m sorry I have impacted you so negatively. Please take care of yourself.

I need to stop looking around me for the help that will not come. I’m it. Whatever will be rests on my shoulders.

I don’t feel bitter about that. I feel kind of sad. I had quite a group of people I used to spend a lot of time with. I was told adamantly how they would all “be there for me” when I had kids.

Don’t listen to what people say. Look at what they do. Many of my friends are faaaaaabulous occasional babysitters and they’ve made very careful sure that they never even hinted at being available for more than that. They are under promising. I could probably ask for more help in an emergency but they haven’t promised me a god damn thing because they are smart.

I think that my fascist attachment to “but you promised!” probably makes people feel bad. They meant it when they promised it but they didn’t understand what they were actually promising. They meant it for a while and then life circumstances changed and they can’t handle it any more. There is probably at least some piece of shame or inadequacy or disappointment or sadness or something in there. When folks have those kinds of feelings the standard response is to look around and see who you can blame for them. I kind of assume that’ll be me. I shouldn’t remember and hold people to promises. They didn’t really mean it and I’m being a control freak asshole by bringing it up.

Geez. Don’t I understand that they are just available when they have nothing better to do? Geez.

Raising kids is hard. It doesn’t wait until you have nothing better to do. It is the better thing you have to do.

I can no longer plan my life around the idea of having breaks provided by other people. Well, I can hire the neighborhood kid for babysitting. I’m going to be doing more of that. That is one of the only options that is close to within my control. But I won’t think of it as a big break either. It’s an hour or two off at a time so I don’t lose my fucking mind.

“I can see you are struggling and I don’t want to watch.”

Story of my fucking life.

You know what? For all of my struggling I’m still here. I’m not dead yet. I may swear a lot but I don’t hit people any more. I have completed life phases successfully. I have set a lot of goals and met them. I have done what I have said I would do.

The next thing I need to do is get a handle on the yelling in this house. I’ll do it. I’ll find a way. I can’t handle that as a trigger any more, not without anxiety medication.

I sat Shanna down and started talking to her about what coming off the medication means and that I am doing it right now.

“A long time ago–way before you were born–stuff happened to me that kind of changed the chemicals in my brain. I get TOO angry. I get TOO sad and I have a hard time calming down. This is not your fault at all in any way. It is just how my brain works. It is really hard for me to have patience. You know the medicine I take? That medicine gives me more patience and helps me not feel so angry or so sad. It has helped me to be patient while you were a baby and you just flat needed my patience. But every medication is good and bad at the same time. This medicine is hard on my body in some ways that aren’t good for me in the long run. I can’t take it for the rest of my life. I have to come off it. It’s going to be hard to adjust as I have less patience and I feel more angry and more sad but we will have to find a way. Step one: no really you can’t scream in my face any more. I’m afraid I will hit you out of reflex because I am no longer taking a medication that gives me extra pause. Hitting is wrong and I don’t believe it will ever be ok to hit you. We can’t do this screaming any more. Stuff has to change.”

So I’m reading up on screaming in children and adults. I will make plans upon plans. I have to eliminate the screaming. I’m going to break every wall in the house if we don’t.

It will all be ok in the end. If it’s not ok, it’s not the end.

Back to the drawing board.

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I got news today I didn’t really want to hear. That’s my problem and not the problem of the bearer.

In January I am scheduling *one* home school outing I have to drive to per week. I have therapy twice during the month and I’ll have to drive to that. I’ve scheduled 11 hours of scattered babysitting help from the home schooled kid a few doors down. I added swim classes again. In the next week I need to start going to observe martial arts studios. I scheduled the doctor appointment for the 15th at 8:30 in the morning.

After all that I need to just stay home and not have any projects. My project is calming down. I have no more spoons and no one is going to show up to rescue me. Life is like that.

We will read books and play in the yards. We will walk the neighbor’s dog. We will have no more than four hours in a given day where I have to be “on” and dealing with anything. One of those days of the week “on” will be walking to the farmers market.

Slower pace. Do less. Be more boring.

Sometimes I think it is very good for me to be reminded that I should only depend on myself.

Noticing stuff.

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I just finished reading a book that went into a lot of detail about reading body language. In it they mentioned “emotional leaking” which is more or less when you are having strong feelings and you are trying to verbally express something other than what you are feeling. Like you are expressing support for someone while flipping them off with both hands the whole time you are telling someone how much you care about them.