New study. Childhood abuse causes a different manifestation than adult trauma. I mean, well duh and all.

But it made me think.

It is hard knowing that I absolutely deserve every person who has stopped wanting to know me. I am not easy to know. I support people moving away from sources of toxin in their own lives. If I am toxic to you then you probably shouldn’t know me. I agree.

With every passing year I feel more like I am just not good for people. This feeling makes me hate myself a lot for wanting connection so much. I feel about as evil as HIV+ people who have nonconsensual bareback sex. It’s just not cool to put toxin like this into the air.

Some days I wake up feeling angry and hateful. But I’m not allowed to hate anyone in my life. So that means I just spend a lot of time hating me.

I know I’m a whiny pathetic person. No one needs to point it out. I am spoiled and ungrateful and stupid and bad. I know.

The hardest part of changing my writing is assuming that my reader has never met me before. I think for so long I’ve just been writing for Noah.

Anyway. So I have this friend Mollena. She’s a speaker, a writer, a presenter, a performer, she’s been a working actor since she was five. She’s been a lot of places and done a lot of things that would probably make your head explode. If you ever get her in a room say, “Tell me about when your dad took you traveling”. I promise you that you will like the story.

Mollena is someone I met in the bdsm community. Specifically she is a sex educator. She teaches classes about dynamics in relationships. She was asked to speak at Yale among I just don’t wanna give  her resume. It’s way more than a page long. She’s cool.

Specifically

She’s awake and responsive but she’s in so much pain that she’s not able to breathe consistently. They need to put in a feeding tube. She needs another surgery. Her broken ribs are complicating everything.

Apparently there are strong wishes for no prayers. I’m allowed to send positive

It occurs to me that there is a word to describe the problem I have with female friends: “Codependent“. I’m an enabler. I like to take care of people and “fill in the gaps” on what they “can’t do for themselves”. I want to take care of people so they will turn around and fill my emotional needs and take care of me.

I totally set myself up as the victim and feel like people are persecuting me when they choose to step out of the dance of dependence. I’m a serious asshole that way. When I stand up for my needs I feel like shit. I feel like I am violating the contract.

So I tend to not take care of myself until I completely explode and pull a nearly Borderline black/white thinking trick and decide that the person who can’t meet my needs has to be cut out of my life entirely. That’s not helpful.

I need to learn h

We put in ~ 40 screws out of 66 before the battery on my drill died completely. Not bad. The corded drill isn’t buff enough to do this work so I’m waiting till tomorrow. No biggie. We didn’t test the tent.

I’m up to about three weeks of having one normal poop a day. For the last few days I’ve been eating a fair bit of garlic. I’m breaking all the FODMAP rules and still pooping normally. I’m done tracking food.

In the past ~20 days I’ve had a few days with one normal poop and then a small squirt of diarrhea later in the day. I consider that acceptable. I don’t have any desire to continue tracking. It doesn’t seem to be doing me any good.

I am deeply frustrated that I did the process and found… no clear connections. I *am* pooping normally… which is a big change. Near as I can tell the fast or some combination of just dropping foods out for a while was good for me. I don’t know.

I’ve spent the last two days reminding myself that how other people feel about me isn’t my business. I’m having really big feelings. I am so ridiculously insecure. But I’m not reaching out for any validation. It is inappropriate to ask and ask and ask.

Sometimes I feel very sad that there has never been a period of my life that is safer than right now in which to make mistakes… and I still don’t feel safe enough to make many kinds of mistakes.

I don’t even know what I would “want” in terms of validation from people. I feel like folks have generally been very decent to me for a while here. Well, my friends are being fine. I haven’t had a sticky moment with a friend in several weeks. Notice how I’m not going out as much as usual. I think there’s a connection.

I’m not having good luck with all people but that’s different.

I feel like I am not good at figuring out perspective. Either I am underestimating or overestimating how important something is.

A long time ago I spent a lot of money trying to have a cross country relationship with someone. I found out that person got married on my coast just recently. Interesting.

I lose people. Lots of people. Mostly I think of it as “my fault” but I shouldn’t. I can’t have relationships with thousands of people–it isn’t physically possible. Given how many people I know I probably can’t be closer to anyone than I am.

Sometimes it is really hard knowing that I have to carefully balance out not seeing people for too many hours in a year or we have problems.

I lost that relationship partially because the person in question could only handle the strain of so many bi-coastal relationships and I was an outlier. Everyone else was wound into their life more fully. So I… just didn’t fit.

I’m used to that.

Day before yesterday we went to the gym for weight lifting. I hear it is “good for me”. I hurt. Sleeping is hard. I spent yesterday compulsively asking questions about “Do you think it is my fault?” Noah is so good at answering that question–he never tells me I was just fine but he implies that I tried. He’s cagey.

Bitch, asshole, cunt. Why do we love these words so much? It isn’t just me who has a love-affair. I self-identify easily as an asshole. Yup, I’m self-absorbed and I’m going to default to thinking my needs are more important than yours. I’m not sorry. Bitch is harder for me. Asshole I view as more passive–not attacking anyone but not doing anything unless motivated by selfish need. Bitch is more aggressive. Bitches attack. Bitches are willing to savage people just because they are having a bad day.

Notice how gendered these assumptions are? When men withdraw and refuse to engage… they are an asshole. When a woman chases cause she’s pissed… she’s a bitch.

Sometimes when I talk about my friends in therapy (because holy crap have I processed about *all* of you in therapy) my therapist says, “Wow. You know a lot of survivors. Do you understand that you are finding the most extreme people in society and these experiences aren’t average, common, or easily understood by most people?”

To that I channel Big Mac and say, “Yup.”

It is hard

I went back through all the reviews of the contracting company I’m working with. Five stars, four stars, very rare three stars. I think they are suppressing negative reviews

Today Shanna announced that it is sometimes appropriate to wear all black. That is a milestone sorta moment.

I’m thinking about the overlap of the movie The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio and failure.

What does failure mean? We are all small pieces in the stories of one another’s lives.

I spend a lot of time thinking about the past. It seems to me that other people believe the past should be over and done. In thinking about the past I understand the present. Through perspective I get why I’m doing what I am doing. Why I will do what I will do.

Connect, connect, that’s what we all want. Whether it is through selling something or through buying big old big-ukkkie yuck well. Or something.

What the fuck was that?

I don’t even know.

White men help white men. White women help… I don’t fucking know.

Sometimes I feel like a race traitor. I don’t type that very often. But I think it. Often. Especially when I watch movies like like “The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio” and watch how white men are supported without ever knowing the price of bearing them.

No one ever says life is easy. This is true.

I think about the past because it helps me figure out why I want to do what I want to do.

I want to forget. I want to stop thinking about pain. I want to stop hurting.

I don’t know how.

I’m told, by asshole men, that the path forward is just to forget. To stop thinking about the things that have happened to me. The things that shaped who and what I am.

I am not a dumb grazing animal standing under a tree. I am a complex being. I am not important. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just not stupid.

To be fair I’m sure there are asshole women with the same opinion. They just feel less need to track down my Twitter feed to tell me how stupid I am.

“That’s not enough”

“It never is”

“How is Dad going to fill the freezer when he can’t even buy the milk?”
“I have no idea honey but at least he has a goal.”

(From the above referenced movie.)

I feel sad. I feel disconnected. I feel like my bills are not the point of life. I pay my bills. Oh fucking well.

I feel happy. I feel connected. I feel like I am unusually well connected with friends.

All along the way we toss out some of the most interesting, most enlightened people.

I think a lot about bravery. Why do we try the things we try? Do we have to see someone else do it first?

Just try. Just try. What the fuck does autocorrect do anyway?

Violence, meanness, write it down. There is just a hole lot of mean in the world.

This is literally just what is pouring out my head as my fingers hurt.

Can’t type enough.

My problems are many and varied and are never that I’m not happy enough

We leave in less than three hours. We’re packed.

I don’t post things here to talk to people unless I name them and know I talk to them we