A second kid RSVP came in. I don’t even think she’s a blog reader.
Oh good.
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Grief
I think I’m grieving for a bunch of relationships I thought would last longer than they would. It is resulting in me feeling very prickly about people in general.
I trust that people will stay in my life, out at arm’s length. There are friends where I don’t feel pent up pissiness or bitterness about the fact that we see each other every five years or so. It feels ok.
Then there are the people where it feels like a betrayal.
It depends on how much I felt bonded to someone before they distanced themselves or walked away. I gain too much of my self esteem from people liking me. Having these people change their minds…
It feels like an erasure of any value I might have had.
I know that isn’t “how it works” but it is how it feels.
I’m doing one of those things where I feel drifty and distant and wrong.
And people bitch about *my* lack of tact.
Future Middle Child turns seven on Monday. They asked for a party this weekend. They haven’t been able to have a party at home in years because we travel on their birthday so often. It seems more than fair to let the kid have a party sometimes.
But I’m seriously exhausted. So I told kiddo they could send out 10 invitations because that limits the crowd size we have to accommodate. We know waaaaay more people than that and I just can’t handle inviting “Everyone” to every thing. I have limits.
FMC split the invitations approximately half and half between non-breeder adult friends and kid friends. When kiddo made this decision it seemed a little interesting to me. Why not more kids?
Ah. Now I understand why. We’ve gotten a positive RSVP from one kid and all the adults. Kiddo understands the people in our lives. That’s why kiddo asked a bunch of adults… who are willing to show up.
I just wish that the parents of kids could say “no” instead of saying, “We were invited to a different birthday party on that day and we are WAY closer to that family so we are going to their party instead.”
And people like to harp on how I lack tact? Oh for fuck’s sake.
No is a complete sentence. You don’t need to tell me that other people are more important to you and that’s why you are saying no.
I’m actually getting to the point where sending shit out to our Google Group is similarly challenging for me. I feel like I should cull the list of people who are rude in how they decline invitations so I don’t feel so freaked out about sending out a big group invite.
Every time I extend an invitation you don’t have to use that as an opportunity to tell me I’m not important to you. It’s just not fucking necessary. You can say no. You can say you are busy. You don’t have to say, “We were invited to something else by folks we care more about.” That’s shitty.
But folks who don’t have mental health diagnosis are generally not open to feedback about their behavior being rude as fuck in my experience. I think I should just cull the list.
If I haven’t had a pleasant conversation with you in over a year or if you have never responded whatsoever to a single invitation… you are now off the list. Cull, done. If I’m using this group to manage my social anxiety and having some people in the group means I can’t use the group anymore because of increased social anxiety… I get to change the terms. I’m permitted. And I get to do it by fiat.
Calm or productive
This morning started out a little rough for me. I asked EC a couple of weeks ago to cull the multiple boxes of school stuff from last year and pick out which items she wants to put in her portfolio. I guess she didn’t understand what I meant. She threw away all of her previous work from grades K-3 and she threw away her sibling’s portfolio work (only kindergarten) and she filled the portfolio’s with random memorabilia and knick knacks. I didn’t discover this till today, so there’s no chance of climbing through the recycling and getting stuff back.
I about blew a gasket.
I didn’t call names. I didn’t scream about how terrible they were. But I did scream that I was very angry. When I calmed down I said (perhaps inappropriately) that a lot of the reason I am so meticulous about keeping this documentation is because I need to make sure no one can ever say I’m not educating my kids and take them away. EC internalized this as “I threw away the portfolio documentation and that means I’m going to be taken away.” We’ve since talked about how there aren’t actually legal requirements to keep this documentation and my fear of CPS is very irrational given that we are unlikely to be looked at as a family at risk. We talked about the difference between a rational fear and an irrational fear.
I think we’ve all calmed down. But I’ve been the opposite of productive since then. Because I need to put most of my mental and emotional energy into calming down. I uhhh also neglected to take any pot till 1pm, which doesn’t help.
Noah says I didn’t cross a line but the line was getting reeeeeal close and I was teetering.
It’s weird having another adult in the house to walk around following me as I rant. It makes me think I’m glad he missed the first three years of my parenting because I was a much bigger bitch.
My poor children.
I sent out another email looking for a therapist for EC. She has fallen through the cracks in the past few months because the folks who looked possible for her didn’t pan out. I need to get that in line though. It’s not ok that she justifies me screaming at her. That’s fucked up and not ok and she needs to have her own therapist who can help her feel like no one should be screaming at her. Not even her mother.
She isn’t always ok with me screaming at her. I don’t get a free pass. But if I’m yelling at her about something she really did she will often say, “Oh I deserve this one.”
NO. YOU MAY DESERVE TO HAVE SOMEONE TALK TO YOU SHARPLY BUT NO ONE DESERVES TO BE SCREAMED AT UNLESS THEY ARE COMMITTING ASSAULT. SCREAMING IS A SIGN THAT SOMEONE HAS LOST CONTROL AND THAT’S BULLSHIT.
She needs a therapist. I say it to her all the damn time. I phrase it as, “I lost control and I was wrong.”
She doesn’t want me to feel bad.
That’s broken and we need to fix it. I get to feel bad for my shitty actions, too.
Really lucky
Holy smokes. This pregnancy has been… so incredibly supported. My friends are stepping up in ways that shock me. One gal in particular, Rose, has delivered: a bassinet, changing table, a swing, most of the clothes we will need for the first year, bedding, a baby carrier, toweling, and maternity clothes.
I wasn’t looking for this support. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t beg. It just arrived as this beautiful gift from the universe. I have a wonderful friend who saved everything from her last kid and she wants to share.
I first met Rose in I think 2001ish. She doesn’t remember me from that period. We started talking a lot more last year. She has spare maternal energy lying around. I appreciate such folks.
Other fabulous friends have passed on more maternity clothes and supplies I’ll need before/after the birth.
It’s starting to look like the only thing I’m really going to have to buy are diapers. That’s ok. I love buying Rumparooz because they are the cutest darn thing ever. The prints! Oh they are so cute. There’s not much in this world I think is more precious than an enormous cloth diaper butt on a baby. It’s weird… but man that sight makes me choke up with joy.
WHEN DID I BECOME THIS PERSON. Err, over a decade ago.
And my Jenny is even going to be sending me super tiny diapers so I don’t need to get any for the first few weeks.
I have arrived. I am there in life. I have friends and family and support and love.
I feel so incredibly lucky. I didn’t think this would happen to me. But here I am.
Do you know what is incredible to me? When I started on the parenting journey some of the folks I loved the most told me they didn’t approve. They thought I was going to do a horrible job. In the past nine years of parenting what has happened is I started off doing ok and I’ve improved. I am way more calm. I am way more able to communicate in useful, effective ways that are appropriate for children (or for anyone, really).
I got my first real shot at learning and growing and developing in a stable environment. And I have blossomed. And my friends tell me so and can point out specific ways I’ve changed and grown and they can tell me why they are impressed with my progress.
I’m not sure I’ve changed my spots. But I have developed some interesting stripes to go along with the spots.
My children continue to be my favorite people.
I mentioned to my kids yesterday that I had mentally observed that our Disneyland trip was scheduled for when I am 35 weeks pregnant. The first thing my kid said was, “Wow mom that’s really late in the pregnancy. I think we should cancel.”
Then the other kid suggested, “Would it be possible to move it up and go earlier? It’s really not wise to go at the very end.”
My kids are so awesome and wonderful and nice to me.
So I called DVC (the Disney time share company) and explained my situation. Of course they were happy to find a way to get us in early. In fact… we are going in two weeks. The week between our anniversary and my birthday.
It’s a really good thing I hadn’t invited someone else and scheduled around their conflicts. I get to just… do what I want. That’s so much easier.
We are looking into what California missions we are going to visit on the trip. It’s 4th grade time… we need California history this year….
And we are debating between 2 and 3 days in the park leaning heavily towards 2. Because mostly we want to go rest and just be mellow together.
I love my family.
nosiness
I would sincerely like to know who comes to my website constantly from http://www.bond-hardware.com/collections/necklaces-chokers because it seems like such a random referrer to get all the time.
The thing about these logistics
So far my labors have been 49 hours and 9 days. I can’t pick someone for logistics who is going to have work conflict. I need to make the assumption going in that someone might have my kids for 72 hours.
Even though my labors defy sanity for length… I am not comfortable with Noah needing to take off and drive 1-2 hours to drop the kids off. San Francisco, Oakland, or even San Jose are quite a ways away. I keep being told “third babies fall out of you”. If I have my first quick birth and Noah misses it… I will be pretty freaked out.
Kids can’t go past the lobby so if my kids are in the hospital… Noah can’t be in the room with me. So waiting a long time for someone to pick the kids up is also mixed.
I think Plan A (or at least the person I’m approaching first) is a kind neighbor for whom I have babysat a number of time. She used to live right next door but now she’s a mile away between my house and the hospital. She doesn’t have a job and she has a lot of available time. She would be ideal if my kids won’t cause her to have panic attacks because they disrupt the routine in her house so much.
I’m nervous about Plan B. My first impulse is to ask the neighbor who lives down the street who babysits for us sometimes… but she has a real job.
Plan C is probably going to be seeing if someone is up for spending a few nights here around the due date. Someone who doesn’t work and who would be happy to hang out with the kids for a few days.
Plan D is probably a solid list of people with jobs who might be willing to hand my kids off all over the valley. Sigh. This plan sounds too much like my last labor where EC kept coming home and going out again because no one had much ability/interest to keep her for all that long at once. Folks only wanted her for a few hours at a time then I had to find a handoff. That was incredibly stressful during my nine day labor.
Folks having jobs is a big hiccup. I need to respect the parameters of your life. You only have to offer what you have to offer. That’s appropriate. I also have to figure out how to make sure my kids are taken care of. It’s a balance thing.
Logistics
We are starting to talk about what we are going to do during the next labor. Who will stay with the kids? If our beloved babysitter was still here it would be no question. Instead this is an incredibly tense question and I feel really anxious about the fact that Plans A & B are probably going to involve asking to impose on neighbors. Plans C & D are probably going to involve asking if there is a way to impose on friends who live farther away and that’s even more terrifying to ask for help with.
It is scary to ask for things when the “no” makes a serious hiccup in my life.
Morning fuss
I feel like there are so many different tracks of thought in my brain that the trains are going to collide soon and it will be all bad.
But typing is hurting.
Marriage and being a whore.
Being a good enough mother.
Separation and unity.
Am I really a piece of shit who deserves to lose my kids because I couldn’t get my suicidal thoughts under control before my kids were born? What if my kids don’t know I have those thoughts because I have successfully hidden it with them for nine years and counting? Am I really not allowed to have thoughts I don’t share?
It occurs to me that the contradictions the pain doctor is talking about “You have low markers and high markers at the same time and that’s bad” is part of why most doctors my entire life have had no idea what to do for me. I have the problems that come from being on the low and high end of issues at the same time. How the hell do you treat that?
The vitamin shots make me feel like shit. I hear they are supposed to “fill you with energy” but they fucking fill me with nausea.
I feel like the pain doctor is echoing what the mental health people have been saying to me for decades. “You shouldn’t be alive. Your existence is improbable.” Ok. Fine. But I’m still fucking here.
But why don’t I stop thinking about myself as weird. Wouldn’t it make my life so much better? Yeah. Whatever. I’m sure it would make everything just shiny if I stopped advocating for my weird as fuck body that has unusual reactions to almost everything. Sure yeah. Start treating me like I’m just like the 50%. That’ll solve my problems.
I’m tired of feeling this tired. I feel like I’m sleeping better than normal for me. I was in bed for ten hours last night and I think I woke up three times. That’s not horrible. But I’m soooooooo tired.
I threw up again. Second time this pregnancy. Once per trimester so far. Both times I threw up when a pill hit my gag reflex, it wasn’t nausea.
I cancelled with the woo doctor for this month. If I’ve been taking huge handfuls of vitamin pills for over a year now and my body has no detectable load of vitamins I don’t think it’s worth continuing to pay for the treatment. Especially since the vitamins she has me buy are hella expensive. I’ve been paying $600-$800/month for vitamins. And tests show that my body has no detectable load of vitamins whatsoever. That’s… frustrating.
I’m trying and I’m trying and I’m trying and so many things fail anyway. But if only I’d tryyyyyy.
I think of myself as a really successful failure. I fail all over the damn place in so many ways. But I get up and I keep trying so some of the crazy shit I try works out.
I think it is funny that I’m feeling awash with calm since I fired my therapist. I spent a lot of spoons gearing up for arguments with her about my life choices she didn’t agree with. Towards the end she was on an absolute campaign to get me to stop using pot and get on other medication because her psychiatrist friend believed that was the One Twue Way. I’m glad I fired that psychiatrist. I feel… less pissed off about being judged.
My shrink believed that you could have a “totally close relationship” with someone you talk to once or twice a year and it’s messed up that I want to talk to anyone more often than that. She really didn’t understand my desire to have closer relationships than that and she actively discouraged me. She really wants people to spend most of their time alone. That’s a lifestyle choice that’s fine if you want it. It’s not the One Twue Way to be though.
I don’t think I should be allowed to hold people hostage. I don’t believe I should shove my way into most of my friend’s lives more often than I do. But if I have friends who also want to talk to me as much as want to talk to them and we prioritize doing so frequently… that’s not wrong. Even if she thought it was. Even if she believes that people should be more “independent” than that.
White Americans are so weird with their “independence”.
When I said that I model my family dynamics on what I have learned from my immigrant friends from other countries my shrink told me that white people can’t do that.
White. People. Can’t. Do. That.
We aren’t allowed to be close and enmeshed. We are required to be isolated islands doing our own thing. I mean, I’m big on creating room for separation within my enmeshments. My kids have individuality and their own stuff to do and their own friends… they aren’t required to be my shadow or exist for my sake. But we spend a lot more time together than is common for folks of our ethnic background. We like it. My nine year old is still actively resisting lots more separation.
I keep offering it…
I ask her all the time if she wants more space from the family. More space for herself. She’s gotten from “NO” to “I can tell I will want that in a few years… but not yet.”
But I’m doing everything wrong by not forcing separation. Right.
Sigh. What is right? What is wrong? Doesn’t it all depend on where you are standing and what your values are and what your goals are?
How could there possibly be One Twue Way?
This is me.
Ugh
The fourth IV vitamin injection has me feeling nauseous, dizzy, and my neck hurts so bad I’d be ok if someone wanted to chop my head off.
Health. Yeah. That’s what I’m pursuing.
Moar doctor
Pain doctor yesterday. The previous visit was the “shit you are so low” visit. This was the “shit you are so high” visit. We looked at inflammation markers and heart disease stuff. Apparently I have that thing where your body produces a fair bit of cholesterol regardless of what you eat. I was told that if circumstances were different he would want to address that. But my cholesterol level is so low that he wants to encourage me to eat anything I want.
I feel like I’ve landed in the twilight zone. A bunch of medical providers are telling me to EAT ALLLLL THE THINGS. JUST EAT. DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. JUST EAT. AS MUCH AS YOU CAN. AS OFTEN AS YOU CAN. I didn’t know doctors were capable of saying those sentences. It’s surreal. Even during my previous pregnancies and I was vomiting constantly I still got push back about “not eating too much”. Not this time!
EAT ALLLLLLL THE THINGS.
I now have a list of supplements to go buy. I want to cry. No more.
I’ll take them. But I’ll whine too.
Home!
I love my home so much. FMC had a hard time going to sleep because they wanted to stay up and talk and cuddle. EC was awake before me and the minute I indicated consciousness they were all over me. Noah has been cuddling me lots.
I’m so happy to be back in a place where touching is ok. Where I’m allowed to want to put my body up against another body without worrying about sending mixed signals. No, I’m not flirting. I just want to feel alive next to your aliveness.
The flights were delayed so it was a very loooong day of travel. Totally worth it to be home.
I have a huge pile of mail to cope with. Otherwise my household runs pretty much like clockwork with or without me.
I learned that from a teaching book.
Grown ups
We all hung out for a few hours yesterday. I think four hours total in the day. They had other stuff to go do. I rested because that’s seriously what I need to be doing with my life right now.
The time we spent together was… a little awkward sometimes but ok. I think the conversations were all positive if occasionally stiff and the specific behaviors that had been bothering me previously were not repeated.
Phew.
I understand that they had a very stressful week aside from me being here. Recovering from surgery while doing two weeks worth of work in a week… that’s stressful. It is very important for me to keep in mind that these people are 99.99999% not reacting to me. They are reacting to what is going on in their lives.
It was a good trip. I’m glad I came. There were a few hours with a few tense interactions because we don’t actually know one another. I think that’s pretty damn good if that is as negative as it got. There was no open hostility. There was no fighting or bickering. I had moments of feeling triggered.
That’s really not the end of the world. I kept my feelings and behavior in check.
Well done on being a grown up, everyone. That was nice.
Because I’m a narcissistic asswipe I feel good about the fact that part of the tension in the trip was about me emphatically stating a point of view that had not been previously been considered because it necessitates life experiences they haven’t had. By the end of the trip the conversation evolved to the point where they figured out a way to include my point of view while maintaining their own standards and beliefs about something that is coming up in their life. I don’t want to give specifics about the situation so cryptic shit is cryptic. But my take away is that I did not necessarily share my point of view in a tactful way (I vary in presentation) but they did really hear me. And they listened because I was talking about a type of interaction with vulnerable populations that they care about getting right.
You really can’t ask for anything more than being heard.
So a lot of my preparation for walking away was bitchy and totally unnecessary. I’m glad I didn’t manifest those feelings more loudly. I think I managed to keep those feelings like 98%-99% under wraps. I’m glad.
These folks were nice to me. I hope I didn’t communicate my distress more than I meant to. Y’all know. But my IP tracker says these folks haven’t checked out my blog. Given how overwhelming their life is just the now that makes sense. I’m kinda hoping it stays that way. But if they do come reading, hi. You are lovely people and I appreciated the time with you. I learned more about controlling myself and being a grown up. Thank you for the opportunity.
I see my family in 11 hours. I can barely wait.
Trying to be a grown up
I’m not having a bad trip. I’m just trying to manage some feelings I’m having and I’m trying to figure out what set of behavior is what I consider an appropriate reaction to situations that have bumps.
Bumps are part of life.
I have been incredibly cordial on this trip. I have managed my moods beautifully, in my opinion. I’m proud of myself. But I’m feeling some feelings and processing them here helps me not explode inappropriately.
I want to learn how to save my explosions for appropriate situations where they are both effective and useful.
I don’t think I want to stop exploding… ever…
It’s a fucking useful tool to have in my tool box and I don’t care who thinks it isn’t nice. Life isn’t fucking nice.
But I want to learn to have better control over it. A tank is not a bad weapon for a military to have. It’s a shitty fucking tool for a police force to have.
Perspective. Context.
I mean… I don’t think we should make war in most of the places our country chooses to make war… but that’s a different conversation.
I’m a violent person. But my goal is that someday I will have such control that my violence only comes out when it is absolutely necessary for serious protection or someone says pretty pretty pretty please and they are very cute and my husband says it’s ok.
That seems reasonable.
I’m not completely there yet. But I’m getting closer.
I did not explode with violence last summer even though someone escalated to threatening physical violence to my family. I deescalated and just got her the hell out of there.
I’m irritated right now. I’m not threatened. No one is going to hurt me. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. I don’t have to like the way everyone behaves. I need to learn how to not give a shit.
Honestly… fuck. This is like when y’alls boyfriend who moves to Australia used to be in a room with me. I feel like I’m in his position. I want to pick and pick and pick and just point out little irritating things about the stuff that is bugging me.
This is why I don’t campaign against him. Because I know I’m irritating as shit and it makes sense that I irritate him and he wants to pick on me.
CAUSE I FEEL THE SAME FUCKING FEELING SOMETIMES.
I get it. Irritating people are irritating. Sigh. And I need to put my big girl panties on and deal with it. It’s fine. I can be nice.
24 more hours. If I feel like I might get rude I’ll just opt in to a hotel for the night.
I don’t need to be an asshole. It’s entirely optional here. I get to decide what kind of grown up I want to be. I am capable of changing the conditions if they stop working for me.
It will all be fine.
I want to be charming. In exactly that way that monsters are dangerous for being charming. Is it manipulative? Well… yes. Charming is more likely to coax the behavior I want.
Long term enlightened self-interest, mother fucker.
Limits
How to write about this. For documentary reasons I try really hard to write down what’s going on for me. For reasons of tact I try to figure out how to do so without blowing things up in my life.
I’m having feelings over how some interactions have gone.
It is interesting to me to note that as I am feeling some objection about some interaction the way I am phrasing this in my head is: even my children don’t get to talk to me like that.
It’s funny how we develop standards and boundaries. Teaching my children how to treat me has been one of the best experiences of my life. In large part because it has worked. My kids are hella polite. They can code switch between many different behavioral expectations. At this point… EC can even handle sitting quietly through a class-like setting.
I thought this day would never come. And yet! With patience and tolerance she has eventually gotten here.
But it’s bigger than that. My children respect me. My children listen to what I have to say and they don’t cut me off to talk about unrelated subjects very often. When I go out into the world I am reminded that other people do not respect me and they do not listen to what I have to say. They are very happy to talk over me and bring up an entirely unrelated point.
You know what? I don’t need to engage with this much. I can… just opt out. I’m not dependent on anyone’s help anymore. I love this feeling so much. It’s like what I learned on the road trip: no amount of “help” is worth putting up with someone who will degrade me in even the smallest of ways. Like the dude who called me stupid. Like E’s parents who wanted to rant at me about domestic violence and home schooling. Like the woman who told me I was wrong for asking to sleep in the same room as my children.
Bye.
I can keep moving. I don’t need this shit.
IT’S THE BEST FUCKING FEELING IN THE UNIVERSE.
I don’t need you. Bye.
It’s all shivery and glowy and powerful. Muahahahahahaha
I asked Noah if being unwilling to take shitty treatment is the same as having self worth and he agreed that it’s kind of different. I may not think that I’m that awesome, but I’m not going to take no shit off of no one.
Why not? Because I have already taken the limit of shit I’m willing to take in this lifetime. I’m full up. My childhood was enough for ten lifetimes. When I needed help in order to not die, I took shit with the help.
I don’t need help from anyone. Err, except for Noah. And you know what?!?!?! He gives me less shit than anyone else alive.
For the life of me I don’t understand his way of measuring cost/benefit because Noah deserves way better than I give him. How do I learn to give him better to be more appropriate? It’s complicated because often I’m giving at the limit of what I know how to give and feeling like I must come up with more is very frustrating. When I get frustrated at my limitations… I take it out on the people around me. Which is the height of shitty and unfair.
One more day to get through. Then a day of travel. Then I get to go home and crawl into a snuggle pile with the people who love me best in the whole world.
I can barely wait.
Lately the pile includes me leaning my head on Noah’s chest while FMC lies more or less on top of me and EC lies on my legs to be also on dad. It’s glorious.
I lean on Noah. The kids mostly lean on me. They lean on him more with the passing of years and that feels really awesome too. Developmentally it is normal for children to bond most with their mothers early on. Branching out to heavily include dad before puberty is also very appropriate.
Sometimes I feel this feeling of elation. My children are developing normally. My children are hitting normal stages. My children are demonstrating appropriate change over time.
HOW DID I NOT BREAK THEM ALREADY?!??!?! I DO NOT TRUST THIS MAGIC.
The reason I hurt peoples heads is because these times when I suddenly use caps… I do more or less shout those sentences. I’m so irritating.
I’m passionate.
Which is part of why I’m way more palatable via text.
So I was the recipient of some behavior I have a problem with. I’m going to put my big girl panties on and figure out how to handle this without being nasty.
Is it nasty to say, “If there is ongoing punishment for having opinions that are not what you want me to have… how about if I just leave today and stay in a hotel. That’s totally ok with me.”
I think I’m going to pack and be ready to walk out. That was a beautiful prescient moment I had in E’s parents’ house. I was 95% packed before we walked down to that fateful breakfast where his father pissed me off for the last time.
Yeah… I’ll be packed before they wake up.
Maybe I’m throwing a temper tantrum too. Maybe I’m demonstrating that if you throw a temper tantrum in my direction because you don’t like my opinions there are consequences. I. Do. Not. Reward. Tantrums.
It’s a parenting standpoint I’m quite firm about and I sure as shit am not going to indulge a grown person in such bullshit. But I’m afraid I’m a hypocrite who indulges myself in temper tantrums. Shit.
This is part of the problem of demanding better treatment. If you don’t also hand it out… you are a piece of shit. I’m not sure I always deliver on the behavior I expect to receive and that’s shitty of me.
That’s something I need to work on. A lot.
Play space observations.
I checked out ACAL. (Alaska Center for Alternative Lifestyles) It was more a walk through than a visit to a play space because while I was there the woman who runs the space was there and setting up but she says local players don’t show up until later. I was not feeling physically up to waiting a few hours for folks so I stayed about an hour and looked around then I left.
First: the equipment and the art are absolutely top notch. I’ve seen some shitty bdsm equipment over the years where you are taking your life in your hands to use it. This place had quality gear. The art was 100% done by local folks (she said) and it was really good. Even the art that was consciously copying the Tom of Finland style was localized and fabulous.
I’ve seen a lot of art here in Alaska. The use of color and bold statements are amazing. Now that I’ve gone to museums and galleries this house seems… more like a product of its place than an aberrant freakishly impossible art compendium. I still think this house is amazing… but all of the art in Alaska is amazing.
The lady who runs the play space is definitely connected to the wider world of bdsm. She could talk a really good game. She can rattle off all the big name presenters and talk about different play styles and the fads that come and go. She gets out to big conferences all over the place and she brings a lot of teachers up here. She has a great patter.
I hear that she’s really shitty at paying people and that she threatens to out people who don’t comply with her demands. So she had a fantastic first impression… but I’d be wary if I seriously had to deal with her.
She’s definitely charming, I’ll give her that.
The space reminded me of the last Castlebar space. It was cold. The roof drips so there are puddles of water all over the place. It was a huge warehouse kind of feel and it was cold and kind of spooky. I thought it seemed like the kind of place I’d love to get tied up and hit. The dirty/industrial look is very much part of my kink milieu.
Their rules were unusually flexible and tolerant. They permit types of play that many play spaces won’t like water sports and messy blood scenes. The only serious no’s on the list: guns, scat, and inverted self suspensions while you are alone.
Err, that’s all legit. Sure.
She says she can’t allow scat because like someone bringing fish into the office break room and microwaving it… that’s a smell that doesn’t go away and it’s not fair to force other people to smell it. I thought that was incredibly civilized of her.
And on a slightly different note: I have recently learned that a bdsm group in Canada has to include carefully differentiating between puppy play and bestiality in 101 classes because bestiality is legal in at least some parts of Canada and there is a local K-9 sex group and they want to make sure the newbies understand the difference. I FIND THIS DISTURBING.
Shit dude, tell me your friends fuck dead people and I’ll shrug. Not my thing but whatever. You aren’t impacting a living creature who can’t consent. Kinda gross… but whatever. DOGS ARE NOT CAPABLE OF MEANINGFUL CONSENT AND THAT’S JUST COMPLETELY FUCKED UP.
We all have our weird little lines.
Ok. That’s long enough.
I used to schedule two week trips and decide at the ten day mark that I was ready to go home. This time I scheduled a nine day trip and after six days… I’m ready to go home. Deep sigh.
I want to snuggle my family. I want to not feel wrong. No one is doing anything bad… this just isn’t an environment set up for me. From almost everything in the house being breakable to the fact that they are both very quiet and when I can’t hear people I tend to talk louder. Then I hurt their heads. Then I feel ashamed of myself for being too gross and loud and too much and…
I want to go home to my fucktastically loud family where I’m not bad for the volume of my voice.
Everyone is COMPLETELY ENTITLED to have their own preferences for sound volume. I just… can’t hear very well. I’m still passing hearing tests. I think partially because fucking hearing tests are always “can you hear this isolated sound in an otherwise silent environment” and my problem is that if there is any background noise at all I have trouble picking out the morphemes of language. It all becomes a blur. And if you mumble at the same time? Well… let’s just say it probably isn’t a fucking mystery why my children E.N.U.N.C.I.A.T.E. They really want me to hear them.
My house is set up to be safe for me. Not other people. And the thing is… it isn’t about the physical building. It’s about the home and the people. Home is different than a space. Home is the feeling that you are allowed to be somewhere; that you are where you are supposed to be.
I wonder if my home is as safe for the other people who live there. I should probably do some checking on that.
Noah and my kids shine with love for me. They are basically incandescent. And sometimes I get too loud for them, too. Just like they get too loud for me sometimes. And we signal each other in a way that doesn’t trigger this shame spiral.
At home I can feel sheepish and not ashamed. Yeah. I get too excited.
My friend pointed it out in a super polite way. I’m not complaining about his method of asserting that his physical boundaries were being crossed. I’m struggling with my internal set of feelings about being almost 36 fucking years old and I still don’t have that great of control over the volume of my voice.
Noah asked: “Which behavioral/emotional modification are you currently thinking of and trying for?”
I don’t know for sure what I had in mind the exact day I typed the original post. My memory isn’t that good.
But I’m always trying to work on more constructive expressions of anger. Anger is not wrong and anger is not bad but acting inappropriately while angry is a serious problem. By the time my children are adults I hope that they will be proud of how I manage my anger. I have already come a long way in their lifetimes. I hope that I keep getting better. I don’t know if my children will be proud of me. I can’t ask them to be. Not ever. I have to just try and earn it and hope for the best.
I’m still trying to swim through the grief I feel about my mother. I would like that to feel less like dropping a plugged in hair dryer in the bath tub. I would like to get to the point where I am not crying about missing her so often. If I stop and feel sad for a few minutes once or twice a year I think that’ll be reasonable. It’s still way way way way way more often than that. It interferes with time I’d rather be spending in other ways.
I am trying to figure out what I need to do to get my shit together and stop taking so much out on you (Noah). You are my “safe” person and that’s mixed and complicated. I don’t need to dump so much on you just because you won’t abandon me the way anyone else would.
I was doing great on sleep regulation till this damn trip. Now… my sleep is shit. It’s almost 1 in the fucking morning here. It’s almost god damn 2 in my time zone. They haven’t gone to bed yet. So I’m up like a hypervigilant freak.
awake awake awake awake
I need my children because I regulate off of them. I regulate myself by force of will for them. When they are not with me… I spend too much time in my head. I spend too much time feeling like everything I’m doing is wrong.
I’m too sensitive. I’m too needy. I’m too particular.
Let me god damn tell you: it’s fun reading stuff about autistic folks at this moment in my life. Something I hadn’t really expected… I’m finding the diagnosis funny. Like, it makes me feel more amused with myself. But only in certain ways and that doesn’t mean I want anyone else to laugh at me. There are an awful lot of behaviors that I’ve spent years in therapy trying to eradicate and I suspect I would have been better served by being taught how to cope with who I am instead of being told to change who I am.
The fact that I taught myself facial expressions in the mirror… there are so many funny little things like that. I have done a lot of self therapy and I use a lot of techniques that overlap with recommended autistic therapies.
I’ve been doing them for a long time. I practice in the mirror. I make up scripts for how to have conversations. I have spent years documenting my attempt to train myself through writing to be able to see ambiguities in life and not treat everything as a black/white. I mean shit, I’m fucking doing it now. Keeping it on topic. That’s one I really fucking struggle with. It’s complicated.
Another thing I’m trying to figure out is what having self worth means. I can rattle off a list of accomplishments, sure whatever. But I don’t value most of what I can list off much. Whoopdie fucking shit. I mostly walked a marathon.
I’m way more impressed that someone I loved was willing to come help me get through that experience with grace and humor and compassion.
I don’t take pride in my writing, not really. I don’t… see much to take pride in? Ok, so I have the typing equivalent of verbal diarrhea. I don’t write “seriously” or about a real “topic”. I just fucking blather because it helps me not be physically violent in the rest of my life. I organize my feelings. This is my meditation.
Now I lay my thoughts to rest
Each and every day puts them to the test;
If I should die before I wake
My thoughts are here for you to take.
They went in their room. I should probably try to sleep now. Maybe I’ll tell you later about the Anchorage bdsm play space I went to. I only have comments on the building because… uhh… only one person was there and she was kinda busy.
Identity and behavior
My buddy said an interesting thing to me yesterday. We were talking about my obsession with being unique. He said, “There’s a big difference between acknowledging that something is true about yourself and using something as your identity.” He used examples from his life that I’m not going to repeat for privacy reasons.
I said, “Ah. But there are reasons I lead with my weirdness. It’s not random. When I try to lead with ‘Oh we all have lots in common, see we have so much in common’ I start talking to folks and then I get to little details about my life and folks often will literally physically put their hands in front of them to energetically shove me away and they’ll say something almost exactly like ‘No. I’m not like you. My experiences are NOT LIKE THAT.’ If I lead with ‘I’m completely weird’ then other people try hard to find connections and they don’t get mad at me when it turns out that… their experiences are not like mine. It’s a protective measure.”
My friend stopped and thought real hard about that.
I love when people actually stop and think during a conversation. That shit is hawt.
He kind of nodded and admitted that it makes a lot of sense that people react differently in those cases.
Then the topic shifted.
*I* think I have things in common with everyone on the planet. But I also think that if I try to get people to think they are like me they get upset. If I tell people that I’m really weird… they have more patience with me. They are more capable of looking at me as a weird alien culture who might have an inch of crossover with them and hunh isn’t that interesting.
When I was a kid I used to cry because I didn’t want to be weird. I hated that people constantly told me how weird I am.
Oh, here’s a thing my friend said: he said that often we self identify with a negative because we want to eliminate the sting when someone else uses the negative.
It is kind of like that only I don’t think that being weird is a negative anymore. I think it is a fact and people will acknowledge it whether I bring it up or not. If I bring it up then people can’t bludgeon me with it. So… exactly what he said only I don’t think it’s bad/negative and other people might.
It is interesting reading stuff about autism lately. One of the key phrases I see people use to describe themselves repeatedly “I feel like I come from another planet.”
I feel like I came from this planet and then I had a completely weird set of experiences that other people can’t understand.
So many opposite extremes in my life. Poverty and wealth. Health and dysfunction. Fitness and physical degradation. Violence and the conscious choice to be gentle.
I talk a lot about being a violent person. But I’m a violent person who doesn’t hit people. I’m a violent person who doesn’t use physical intimidation. I’m a violent person who doesn’t verbally threaten people.
Violence is such a complicated topic.
Being in Alaska frames some of the violence differently. Most people here hunt. You know what? I don’t think hunting is violent. It involves killing… for survival. Is that violence or is that life?
When people are fighting other people in a civil war… is that violence or life?
I watched a video in the museum yesterday. A woman was talking about her grandmother who taught her indigenous survival skills, “I quickly learned that my grandmother didn’t take no crap. She was a tough woman who was only going to allow people to treat her with respect.”
Can you be that and not be violent? I sure hope so. Because I’d love to have people think of me in a similar way.
You teach people how to treat you. And I am not interested in taking crap from anyone.
There’s this dude in my extended community. He dates several people I adore. I feel that he has really useful, awesome relationships with them. He does wonderful things for their lives and self esteem. I can’t fucking stand to be in a room with him. He does nothing but give me crap. Or ignore me. There isn’t an in between.
It’s ok that other people are motivated by teasing and taunting and I am not. It is ok that someone can be wonderful for many people and completely a problem for someone else. We don’t all have to need the same kinds of support or the same kinds of relationships.
That’s been a lovely thing to feel deep in my belly as I get older. He’s a fantastic influence in their lives. I would not say words or make gestures that might fuck up their relationships. It would be cruel and evil if I did. But that doesn’t mean I have to like him or be near him.
That’s such a wonderful, freeing thing to feel.
When I was younger I had trouble with the geek social fallacies. “The friends of my friends have to be my friends.”
Naw dude. Make your own damn friends.
A woman I love very much is having a hard time with someone she loves very much. The person she loves is struggling with big life problems. My friend wants me to get involved and be supportive of her friend. She keeps asking me to reach out and indicate love and support and offer myself as a sounding board because I give such good advice and I’m so good at helping people.
Err… no.
I love you. I’m sorry your friend is suffering. No. I am not in a profession where such a reaching out would be appropriate and it would be codependent as fuck for me to add more drama into my life right now. I can’t reach out to a person in crisis and invite them to lean on me right now. It would be wildly inappropriate given what I’m trying to do with my life in this moment. I’m trying to calm my body down. I’m trying to heal a lifetime of physical damage from my life experiences.
I can’t take on a project meth-head right now. That would be highly dysfunctional.
Even though your friend deserves all the support in the world… it can’t come from me.
Boundaries are complicated and hard and have to be looked after. It’s ok for people to ask for things I don’t want to give. But I need to be on my toes about saying “No”.
I think this is a positive step for me?
And that’s the end of my attention span.