Category Archives: adult-only

Published in the adult-only category

Perspective

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I know that many of my perceptions are wacky. That’s a lot of why I record them obsessively. I can track where I’m wrong and where I turn out to be correct. I often notice that I’m about to get dumped by tracking my perceptions. I notice that I need to leave relationships because I track. I notice that I need to give people more chances because even if I feel worried that I’m bothering them… look at how they still show up.

I track my life because moment by moment I can’t tell how I feel about my life or what is happening to me. Moment by moment I’m swimming in an intense soup made up of lots of chunky flavors, many of which are a distraction instead of being the focus of the soup. Because really, do you want huge chunks of iceberg lettuce floating in your tomato soup? Not so much.

There are moments when I’m capable of feeling bathed in the love of my friends. That moment is not always when I’m talking to my friend. Sometimes when I’m talking to a friend I feel lost in my own self-contempt and I can only perceive that in my mind my friend should revile me. I’m not capable of having feelings beyond that in many moments of being with/near my friends. It isn’t because my friends are doing a thing wrong. It is because my brain, even after all these years of friendship and living in a forever-home, still doesn’t register moment by moment that I’m safe. It’s not as pervasive or awful as it was…

But it is absolutely true. I have difficulty perceiving people as doing anything other than shunning me. Even when they are inviting me to their house for a chat. Even when they are making appointments to see me.

It isn’t your fault and I try not to take it out on people when I feel like I’m about to be shunned. But god damn if I don’t think I should be shunned basically all of the time. When you do not do so it just feels like you haven’t done it… yet.

I feel like I am constantly about to have everyone I love tell me to go die in a fire. I’m afraid of this because if I felt like this really came from other people who I’ve set up as the important judges of my life and I got this message on the wrong day… I might go do something like that.

I have a weird thing in my behavior. When I feel unworthy I am more likely to comply with indications that I should hurt myself as punishment. I know I’m bad. I know I’ve hurt people. Of course I deserve punishment for that.

Isn’t that just how it works? You are bad. You deserve punishment?

Only it never worked out that way for the rich white people I knew. They were given more chances to abuse again. Only trash gets punished severely for stepping out of line. Or non-white people. They get punished extra for daring to not be exalted and white. I hate systems of authority so much.

When I was a kid and I fucked up in some standard kid way (like “painting” the bathroom walls with my Barbie hair and water) it always came with intense screaming and hitting. I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes that impacted other people.

Why the fuck didn’t my mom hand me a stack of towels and tell me I had to clean it up then I had to wash the laundry?

Why did I have to be beaten?

Last year I tried to make friends with someone. But it got complicated by extreme lack of sleep. When they got angry with me and started berating me in public I reacted like they were my mother. Because she is the same size and shape as my mother. I was told I was just a racist bitch who was behaving the way I was because she was brown.

Sigh.

These things are so complicated. I’m not going to defend my story to her. She gets to think I’m just another racist white bitch. That’s fine. Am I a racist? I sure as shit am not going to deny it. I try hard to look for signs of racial prejudice and stamp them out. I definitely know that I have escaped some of the standard racist white person actions.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not racist. I participate in a system that on a large scale penalizes people of color. I never get to claim to be not a racist. As long as I am ok with buying things made in sweat shops over seas and I never have to figure out how I feel about exploiting people of color for my ease…

I never get to say I’m not racist. Because it’s a lot bigger than “Am I upset with this person because they remind me of my mother or am I upset because they are a brown person daring to yell at me”.

I don’t think I get to say that she is “wrong” in her perceptions of me as a racist. I just don’t. I put scare quotes around that word because when one person judges another person’s motives right/wrong become so complicated and layered and…

I was told that being upset about being yelled at and threatened was the same thing as police shooting innocent black children.

Maybe that’s true.

Maybe it is all part of a continuum and I don’t get to pretend I’m right or innocent. Maybe I did something heinous and awful and terrible.

I was told I was going to harm them with my venom after the fight. I was told I was going to refuse to feed them, like other white people have; I was going to throw them out to be homeless and at risk… like other white people. But I continued to provide tasty, nutritious food after the fight. I asked, “When would you like me to arrange your flight home?” I didn’t say, “Figure out your own way, bitch.”

I tried my best to be honorable. But I’m being honorable within a racist system that prioritizes my feelings about someone else’s literal safety.

I don’t get to say I’m not racist. Even if I’m trying. That doesn’t really matter.

I do struggle to get past the set of statements that her hitting me would be “education” but white people looking at her is violence and she’s allowed to defend herself however she sees fit… but she’s not violent; we are.

I struggle with the belief that only white people are ever violent. The history of the world kinda shows that not just white people perpetrate wars and genocide. But I’m racist if I bring that up.

Ok. I’m racist.

Now what?

What is the point of declaring someone racist or bad? What do you do with that? Shame, clearly, but since when has shame motivated positive change.

I’m not saying “Be nice to me or I’ll stop being your ally.” I’m not your ally now. I may or may not be your friend but I didn’t sign a contract saying I will provide specific aid in exchange for you providing specific aid. That didn’t happen. We ain’t allies. And if I do sign such a contract you being nice won’t be the point. It’ll be that I absolutely must depend on a set of aid from you so I simply must do my share. It’ll be selfish as shit.

Will I stop making friends who are not white because some not white people have told me I’m a racist bitch? Well, no. That would be mean to the people in my neighborhood and my life who are not white whom I’ve been friends with for many years.

I don’t think that having a negative experience with one person needs to define the rest of my life. I’m not afraid of brown or black women or men or nonbinary people in aggregate or even singly unless they start yelling at me that they will hit me.

I feel like… I feel like it’s ok that I feel like this. I don’t get scared until you start telling me that you will “teach me how to behave”. I know you hit your kids. I know you hit your kids and tell them they aren’t allowed to cry because you don’t want to hear it. They told me. In front of you. And your facial expression clearly indicated that you knew it was a problem and you were not happy with your kid saying that in front of a white bitch.

Boy you were pissed when I told your kid that anyone who tells them not to cry when they are in pain is wrong.

Oh well. He needed to hear that for once in his fucking life.

You were wrong to lie and tell your son you weren’t crying when we fought. You were lying. I don’t give a shit if I pissed you off by saying, “Of course we were crying. We had really big feelings and when you have big feelings they need to go somewhere. Crying is one of the most healthy ways of dealing with those feelings. When you cry you don’t need to move the feelings into another area of your life and act out badly.”

I thought your head would spin around and pea soup would start flying across the room. You were so pissed that I thought I had the right to share “my” culture with your son.

I’m sorry I traumatized your family by saying it’s ok to cry when people hit you. I will probably do that kind of shit again.

Even though you hate me and view this as one more usurpation of your right to indoctrinate your kid into your culture. You spent many of the hours you were here complaining about how it is fucked up that your culture has no support for your mental illness and it is fucking terrible that you have to go to white people for help… but you hit your kid and tell him he isn’t allowed to act like it hurts.

Fine, I’m racist. But that doesn’t absolve you of doing your own work within your family.

Other people being fucked up does not absolve me of my responsibility to deal with my behavior within my family. I still have to look at my children and see what I’m doing wrong. I still have to grow and change. I have to give my children support against me. I am not infallible. I am not perfect.

If you believe that mothers cannot be questioned no matter what… I’m pretty sure that’ll lead to a few problems sometimes. Especially if you think it’s fine to beat your children.

But I’m just a racist white bitch so what do I know.

I wish I could stop thinking about this interaction. I really do. I waited almost a year to write this explicitly about it. I rarely avoid thinking about it for more than a few days. Is this one more demonstration of how evil I am?

I don’t care if it makes you mad I am going to use my reality distortion bubble to tell kids that it’s ok to cry when they are in pain. Even if they are black. Black children deserve to be able to acknowledge to themselves that they are in pain too. I know you think that I’ve never raised a black child so I don’t deserve to have an opinion. I’m sure you are right. But I’ve been around human beings and all the human beings I’ve known have had emotions and they had to deal with them.

I sure hope that you are right that your black sons need to be beaten and told they don’t deserve to cry when they are in pain because that is the only path to black manhood. If you are wrong… that’s going to suck for your kids.

But you’re right. I don’t get to decide you are wrong. That’s one of the many things that white people do. We think we know best in all situations and we don’t.

I’m still going to be that asshole who tells these kids that their feelings are legitimate and they get to have them even if they inconvenience the people around them. Even if their mother doesn’t want to hear it.

If talking to your children this way means I am a racist pig, just like the police who shoot black children, as you screamed at me, then ok.

Ok.

One of the advantages of not believing that I am a good person is that when I fuck up… it is basically par for the course. If I do something awful…. well… bad people can’t do good all the time. That’s just not a reasonable expectation. I’m a bad person doing my best to do good things as often as I can.

I’m going to miss the mark a lot. Maybe this is one of the times.

I hope I didn’t actually hurt those kids by telling them that it’s ok to cry when they are in pain. But I might have. I don’t have the scope to know.

That’s the thing about actions. It’s hard to predict how they are going to go in the long run.

I’m sorry that I could not care for your children all day, then listen to you process how white people have wrecked your whole life and culture all night long and do that while providing the chipper physical demeanor you needed in order to be happy. When I started crumbling and you screamed at me that it wasn’t ok… yeah I finished crumbled. Like a fragile whiny white bitch. It’s true.

I will fail under a lot of kinds of pressure. That’s true.

Is that part of being racist? Probably.

You asked how my friends handle me having strong opinions because when you screamed at me and shamed the shit out of me it didn’t get you what you wanted. Well… they start by letting me sleep so I can have rational conversations instead of losing my mind.

I’m terrible about boundaries like that. If someone is a guest in my house and they want to sleep all day I cover for them with their children. When that same person then has the energy to stay up all night and I’m supposed to be an audience… I’m shit at saying no. Even though I should have said, “You know how you slept all day and I didn’t? I need to go to bed now.”

I was wrong to not enforce those boundaries. It is part of why things ended so badly. I absolutely deserve responsibility for all of my failures around not being able to regulate my voice anymore after days of no sleep.

I wanted to listen to you. I hurt myself to do it. I listened patiently for long enough to know for absolute certain you were never interested in a conversation. You just wanted me to listen to how white people are shit and they’ve ruined your life.

I did listen. Night after night. I know. All white people are shit. We should all die. I know.

I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know

White people traumatize you by existing and they should disappear so you can go back to living how you want to live.

Only that’s not possible for eleventy million reasons I’m not getting into and oh man.

I honestly don’t know where to go. There isn’t another country in this world that wants me. If I wanted to leave this continent so I stopped being a colonizing piece of shit… I don’t know where to go. Which doesn’t mean that things should continue as they are.

I’m not your ally. But I do think the US government needs to give more land back to the Indigenous people. I do think the US government owes reparations to the descendants of Africans we kidnapped and enslaved and dragged here against their will.

Oh fuck yeah. Not because I’m an ally. Because I think that is how the US will move forward as a powerful country. It’s enlightened self interest. I want to live on a continent of people who are treated honorably and who live with dignity and safety. It’s a selfish motivation.

I want the police disarmed partially because the motherfuckers need to stop shooting black people and partially because they need to stop shooting ANYONE. WHAT THE FUCK. Your job is to protect and serve, not to feel intimidated at the slightest provocation and shoot innocent people. What the fuck.

But part of living with dignity and safety means that when someone hits you, you get to decide if you are in enough pain to decide if you need to cry or not.

It’s all so complicated.

When you take two people with chronic severe physical and mental disabilities and you put them together…

Sometimes there are fireworks.

Is that because of racism? I think it can be and I think it might be influenced by more factors. How many people are truly motivated only along one axis?

I’m not saying I’m a good person and you are bad. I don’t believe that. I’m saying I think that situation went to hell in a hand basket and I know I did wrong but I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.

I’m pretty sure that there is rarely a situation in which I am genuinely The Problem. I think that problems arise based on difficult interactions between people. All people have problems and that doesn’t mean that it is all their fault entirely when things are wonky.

Sometimes people can do the best they can and they are still embedded in the broken systems that created them and they are still acting out oppression even if they don’t mean to at all.

My intentions aren’t important. Not even to me. The results of my actions are important. And I don’t get to decide what those results are.

I wish

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I wish it was politically possible to do a study of the outcomes of women who have mental illness during pregnancy that actually randomized SSRI’s & other medications vs pot vs unmedicated spikes of emotional distress.

I would sign up to be randomized. I would fully comply with taking heinous medications that I know hurt me if it would help people on a larger scale understand what happens.

I worry a lot about the emotional spikes I have because I feel ashamed of needing pot. One dose a day is… not the best thing ever. It means I come up and down every day. So I have these wild grief/sobbing periods and that doesn’t seem healthy.

Drifting through alienation

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3.5 hours of sleep. That’s how much sleep I’ve been getting every night. The only way I get more sleep in 24 hours is if I nap. This has been going on for days.

I feel really overwhelmed with sadness. I don’t belong. I don’t fit. I am not part of a group larger than the nuclear family I am creating and that hurts. I’m not denigrating my family, I’m grateful for them. I’m completely certain I’d be done without them.

I don’t fit in a community. I “know” I have friends. But the fact that most people can bear a few hours per year of my company because I am so terrible…

I don’t see a lot of good in me. I see that I am bad.

I am starting to feel worried about being extremely depressed throughout my pregnancy partially because I am refusing to allow myself to take much pot. That’s so complicated.

I am having a hard time with how much exercise my body is demanding. Yesterday was so hot we barely moved. So by 7pm my legs ached and burned and I finally said, “Let’s go walk through an air conditioned store.” I NEED a level of exercise I don’t usually maintain or everything feels so bad I want to scream and rip my skin off.

I’m having a hard time with the whole “neighborhood friends” thing. People keep moving. It’s hard to keep trying knowing that it will take a whole bunch of energy from me and then people won’t reciprocate because they’ll move.

I feel pointless and stupid. I feel so sad.

My kids are in an intense sibling rivalry stage. Probably the most intense of their lives and I’m struggling to not be an explosive bitch.

I’m struggling with the fact that most of the people I know don’t want to spend time together unless you are out doing something expensive together. I have this visceral feeling that spending money all the time on entertainment is toxic. So I opt out of things that we could technically be invited to and then I feel alienated and alone. Because I opt out. Because people really don’t want to spend time together without a separate distraction/focus very often.

I miss my mother.

I miss Claudia.

I’m worried about my cat.

My mama could make a good time last all day and only spend $5.

I feel like who and what I am is inherently bad and nothing I can do will change that.

I feel like I am most interesting when I want to be abused and when I don’t then I’m just too much fucking work.

I’m not eating that many calories either. I’m not hungry. Tracking on the fitbit makes me crazy. But I know I’m going to have to argue over whether or not I deserve to have food while overweight so I need data.

I feel like I have an extreme form of cabin fever. But I don’t really want to go anywhere or talk to anyone because I feel like I am a terrible piece of shit who should not inflict my horrible presence on anyone.

The kids and I negotiated that they will go to the part time charter school operated through the district next year. We need a little more space. It’s only a few hours a week (under 10) and I feel like that’s a wise transition for my children with ants in their pants.

Someone recently told me to just send them to school and make them adjust. I think Stanford was right when they said that my kids would have severe emotional and behavioral difficulties if forced into a standard classroom right now. They are so distractible. They have so much energy they can’t stop moving.

All of us do a lot of flapping/stimming. I think it is kind of funny. No one shames anyone in this house for having weird tension outlets. I don’t really want to send them to school so they can find out how “weird” they are.

Why do I feel so ashamed of myself I want to curl up into a ball and cry for years?

I don’t fit anywhere. I don’t belong anywhere. I’m not good at making Noah feel loved and that’s one of my main jobs in this life. I can’t seem to figure out how to convince my Future Middle Child that their life isn’t a shit sandwich that must be reviled. Your life may not be 100% perfect, but I struggle to see how it is that bad.

I can’t imagine being them and having what they have. I’ve never in my life been loved and cosseted the way my kids are and it still isn’t enough. What I have to give is not enough. I am not enough.

Maybe I know a little bit about how my mom felt. She was never enough either. Lately I feel really ashamed of myself and I wonder if I was as ridiculous as my child is. Was I similarly demanding about how nothing was good enough no matter how good?

I wanted a home and to live with my mother and my siblings full time. I wanted to go to the same school for more than a year in a row. I wanted to have people in my life I knew for longer than a few months.

My mom couldn’t provide any of that. It wasn’t her fault.

I feel like it is all my fault my child isn’t going to have a more consistent set of people in their life forever. I chase people off. Folks can only stand me for so long before they wear out. Because I am bad.

I’m only 5.5 fucking weeks pregnant and I’m already having a hard time wearing some clothes. They are too tight in the waist and they hurt. I’m not going to be able to wear most of my pants-that-fasten past 7 weeks. I can tell. I haven’t gained any weight at all. Things are just shifting. Like they do.

I’m going to go walk before I talk to Jenny.

I WANT!

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In a few weeks when I start needing maternity shirts… I’m buying this: http://www.cafepress.com/mf/77953219/fck-gender_maternity?productId=1437421518

This is also lovely: http://www.cafepress.com/mf/86443698/gender-is-not-binary_maternity?productId=1225027311

AWAKE

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It’s 3:40. I’d love to be asleep. I got 2.5 hours of sleep. I went to bed at fucking 8pm. It’s been a long night.

I didn’t manage to talk to my family about the phone call yesterday. I will when they wake up. I heard back from the therapist we met with last week. This person seems to ‘get’ how I do therapy. They are encouraging us to set up relationships with therapists for most of my family members and a family therapist. In their opinion it would be good to have an intensive 2-3 months for “getting to know one another” then back burnering the relationships until a crisis hits.

I love this therapist. I think that is precisely the correct way for someone with my problems to do therapy. I need help sometimes. I can’t figure out what to do on my own. But if you try to meet someone during a crises… that doesn’t work well. You need to establish contact during a time of relative calm and get to know one another and establish trust. I can’t establish trust if I’m hysterical. I don’t trust anyone then.

This is going to be expensive. But it will help me get where I want to be in 20 years.

The family therapist will work with all four of us sometimes and hopefully sometimes just me and Noah.

All four of us get to spaces in an argument where we have trouble listening and hearing someone else’s point of view. Outside intervention helps that process.

I’m happy that this therapist is very concerned that Eldest Child not is acting like Future Middle Child is The Problem. That’s not true. Ok, so FMC (how’s that for a new nickname?) is very explosive and has anger issues that need to be worked on so they stop hitting their sister… but that’s not the same thing as being The Problem.

It’s more complicated than that. It always is.

They are recommending somatic work for me. I’ve done primarily talk therapy my entire life. I have never worked with a somatic therapist. I think that it is a good suggestion to focus on what is going on in my body with my emotions in the moment instead of always trying to talk/process old trauma. That seems like it might have some genuine value. Especially while I’m pregnant and having ALL THE EMOTIONS right now. This embryo, soon to be fetus, needs me to calm the fuck down.

I’m thinking a lot about my brother Tommy. My mom cautioned me against a third child because… look at my brother. Tommy was born after 45 minutes of labor and he didn’t stop running until he was hit by a car at 12. He was an alcoholic and drug addict. Yes, by 12. He was sensory seeking to a degree that my mother truly could not cope with. Given how I’m physically feeling since this pregnancy started (I mean for fuck’s sake… it’s been like 2 weeks and my body has EXPLODED with energy) I am already thinking ahead to a highly sensory seeking child. Given that I’m god damn tired already from dealing with children for 9 years… oh goody. I see why Tommy threw my mom for a loop. She was tired too. Tommy and Sissy are about as far apart as EC and Lightning will be. And my mom started at 19, not 27.

I keep feeling like we should move away from a city. I feel constant anxiety about all the things I could/maybe should be doing. I should find a way to fit in more cultural experiences. More activities. More socializing.

But I’d kinda like to be boring as fuck and live my life as a home body in the woods. I went back and forth from cities to the woods as a kid. I always liked the woods better. I like people in cities… but I get so overwhelmed. Too many options. Too many decisions to make. I’m too exhausted to face my social calendar by the time I’ve made all the decisions I have to make in order to decide what things to do.

Wouldn’t it be nice to come “into town” a few times a year and have a lot of experiences then and go home and… just live.

I really like being outside and exercising with the kids. We are getting seriously into our bike rides. Yesterday the kids and I did 6.3 miles. We are prepping for this summer when we will ride our bikes 3 miles each way to the water park. (I love our tiny, dinky little water park. Two big slides. One circular/lazy river thing. One pool. One toddler splash zone. It’s small and usually not crowded.) In order to handle the 6 mile ride round trip, plus swimming, plus their daily PE classes… we have to work up to that before we get started. That’s going to be a lot of damn work.

But it feels so good.

I’d love to take my kids hiking in the woods more. But the drive to get to woods kills me.

I like how when you live in the woods it is a lot easier to get up and just do your thing. There are fewer bright, shiny distractions. I’m a reader. I like making shit. I never run out of things I want to do. I don’t get bored.

Only boring people get bored.

Sometimes I get restless and that’s a cue I need to switch activities… but that isn’t truly boredom. Boredom is forcing yourself to not pursue change.

I’m never going to stop having friends. No matter where I live. I spend most of my time with my friends on the internet anyway. This week I had a Skype date with my Sarah and we both cooked dinner at the same time. It felt *wonderful*. It felt loving and tender and fun. We got to talk about what we were separately making and everything else in life. It felt validating and inspiring. I love my Sarah so much. I’m so glad she likes talking to me and helping me puzzle through life.

I’ve been talking to my Jenny weekly on Skype. I’m getting to see my newest niece a lot, granted slightly pixelated but whatever. That feels really nice too. We are so different in personality but we like each other. It feels like family. This relationship feels like, “Even though you get on my nerves I still love you.” Specifically I usually feel like I get on every nerve Jenny has. I’m way too fucking argumentative. But she loves me anyway. Even though I’m difficult and irritating. She’s loved me for almost 24 years and counting. Only 6 years to go before she is the longest relationship of my life.

My Pam is checking in on Skype as she can. I find it funny that one of the things Pam believes is most true about her is that she’s a bad listener. But she’s one of the best listeners I know. She is so curious. She is so interested in finding out about why things work the way they do. She is absolutely determined to be part of change in this lifetime. I respect her so much. I love her. I love how she laughs and the stories she tells. I am endlessly grateful that she shares her family with me. Her sister is a delight and a joy and I’m glad I get to adopt her too. Pam’s mom is really awesome too. She used to bring my kids over to hang out with her grandmother before her grandmother moved back to Taiwan.

My children are very blessed.

Many other people are checking in on IM services. I’m having long conversations with many people who love me and whom I love.

My existential loneliness shit is… not because I’m actually unloved or abandoned or ignored. It is about brain chemistry.

I miss Twitter. But I’m going to get over it.

I think that if I moved to the woods, where it was cheaper, I’d fly to visit friends a few times a year and otherwise be ok.

I don’t know about my family for sure, but I think they’d adapt.

Do I want to leave my bathroom? No. But if I could sell this house for serious bank I could move somewhere else and build an entire house to my specifications. I have ideas. I have stuff in my head. I should start sketching just because.

Since I won’t be traveling the world with my family… what should we do instead?

My real dream is to buy a piece of land that is zoned for multiple houses and build a main house and a bunch of smaller houses so my friends could follow me if they wanted to. Or I could find people who are local to whatever area and make connections. I’m adaptable as fuck.

I would seriously love to be responsible for essentially a whole housing development of weird houses. Because you know that my designs are going to be wacky.

And by housing development I’m thinking 5-10 houses.

But that was yesterday’s random fantasy. Who knows what will happen.

I feel less self hating today than I did for several days. That’s good.

In utero names

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I called my first pregnancy The Lizard. I called my second full term pregnancy TBD. This time I want to call it Lightning. When you are hit with lightning you are so consumed with energy that sometimes you die. That’s kinda what I feel like. I am exercising more than usual. I am sleeping less than usual. (2.5 hours tonight according to my fitbit.) I feel like I’m vibrating with excess energy. I feel like I’m about to burst into flight and shoot towards the sun, the only source in the universe with more energy than me right now.

This is incredibly overwhelming.

Maybe kiddo will come a bit later than Valentine’s Day. I was curious about when Pisces starts so I googled to see the dates. I got this:

The Pisces (born February 19 – March 20) is known as one of the more mysterious of the zodiac signs. Pisces have a lot of feelings. I asked my friends which one of them was Pisces and one of them exclaimed, “Right here, with ALL THE FEELINGS!” so that should tell you something.

Given ALL MY FEELINGS RIGHT NOW I’m kinda wondering if this one will bake extra long to make it to the explosion of feelings sign. Given that Aquarius supposedly rejects expressions of emotions…

Tommy was a borderline Pisces. He was born at 11:58 February 18th. He just couldn’t fucking wait two more minutes. My dad was so mad. He had to pay for an extra day in the hospital because of the timing.

If my kid manages to be born on February 18th around midnight… I’m in so much fucking trouble.

drips and drabs

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In an attempt to deal with my racing thoughts I’m going to leave this page up for the day. I’m going to try and never write more than a few sentences at a time for arm strain.

Do you know why I keep seeing the woo doctor? Because when I go in and stick my hand on the silly metal plate she comes back with, “By far the biggest thing to handle this time is emotional instability. The emotion that is coming up as dominant is alienation.” Shit. Ok fine. I’ll take the pills and drops. They do help.

I need to catch up on Mint. I’m freaking the fuck out. I feel like I try to get a handle on money and then, “Hey, wanna spend $6,000 repairing your kitchen?”

Do you know what I love about Mint? It is mostly a game I play with myself. Does whether I stay “in budget” in a certain random area really matter? No. At the end of the day the only part that matters is whether all of my bills are paid and there is still money in the bank. The distribution… isn’t ultimately that important.

I finally had that conversation with my trainer about boundaries. As I expected he spent a lot of the conversation looking like he was in pain. He was nice about it. He said thank you for telling him about my issues and he will work on treating me more appropriately. Can’t really get a better reaction. (He’s the sort to lecture me extensively about how it is Never Ok To Eat SubOptimal Food. Dude… there are days when I eat crap or I don’t eat. You are not the boss of my body. Don’t do that. You don’t know my story.)

I walked out in my back yard and I picked cauliflower and now I am turning it into soup. This feels mighty. Ok, I burned it a little. It was a very small quantity and took less time to cook than the standard recipe. It was… ok. Not amazing. Even with lots of asiago and pancetta.

Two friends said I should read this essay yesterday. It’s like my friends know me.

That’s yesterday

Time for a roller coaster ride…

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The internet tells me that first trimester insomnia is very common. Oh, great. A whole bunch of assholes want to give me the advice that I should avoid sleeping during the day to force myself to sleep at night. WHY DON’T YOU GO FUCK YOURSELF WITH A CHAINSAW, M’KAY? If I can get some sleep during the day I’m going to sleep. I’m going to sleep any time my body says ok. Because during the night time I can’t force myself to get more than 4 hours of sleep. The belief that I will sleep at night if I just stop napping is fallacious, harmful, and really fucking irritating.

According to my fitbit thingy (I’m wearing one so that when an ob/gyn says “You’re fat and you should exercise more to be less fat and you shouldn’t eat so much unhealthy food” I can go back and forth between data sets to point out how their bigotry is incorrect. This is not my first rodeo.

It hurts me emotionally that doctors will look at my pregnant body and go “Wow. You should be on a diet.”

Go fuck yourself with all the chainsaws that have ever been created.

And I’m “only” overweight. I’m not clinically obese. I feel so much sadness for the folks who are dehumanized more than me. You deserve to be treated like a person.

We shouldn’t have to obsessively log what we do and eat in order to be treated like human beings. It’s disgusting.

But given how I’m eating right now? Oh I’ll fight you if you imply I should cut back on calories. In my first pregnancy I was so sick I lost almost 20 lbs in the first trimester and a half. People complimented me a lot. I was so upset. I felt like everyone was cheering about me feeling like death. This is different in every way and I’m not going to put up with folks saying ignorant, rude things this time.

I may go off like a bottle rocket.

I’m working with my kids on the concept of “You don’t ask strangers personal questions without first asking them if it is ok because hello, boundaries.”

I feel like a lot of people never got that lesson. What the fuck.

Do you know what is a fun game I’ve played a few times? When I was going to spend a while sitting next to someone (I don’t wait well) and I noticed that they had an Obvious Feature That People Comment On I started talking about random stuff (temperature in room, number of people waiting, how long it would take) to get folks warmed up to the fact that I’m chatty as shit. After a few minutes of back and forth I lean and ask if it is ok to ask them a personal question. I see a little bit of tenseness appear. Sometimes they say yes and sometimes maybe and sometimes (rarely for some strange reason) no. I lean in and ask, “What is your favorite ice cream?” They laugh. Then we talk about food until we leave having never talked about the Obvious Feature That People Comment On.

I like the smiles that people wear when we part ways.

I used to wish that people would talk to my brother Tommy about something other than “why are you so weird?”

We are all weird if you look closely enough. Weird just means you aren’t used to something yet. Don’t be an asshole.

The more I think about this new baby the more excited I am. Parenting has been the best phase of my life. Is it always easy? No. Things that are always easy aren’t worth that much. I was not looking for convenience in this life. I wasn’t looking to keep my life the same and drag my kids along. I’ve changed everything.

And, despite my recent whining about alienation (which is a feeling), I am in by far the best place I’ve ever been. I’m healthier. I’m more stable. I’m more calm. I haven’t self harmed (despite having the impulse to do so) in a long time. I have bad hormonal weeks, but I even scream less.

It is… strangely comforting to have a professional tell me I am autistic. I have spent my life wishing for routines and I’ve never been able to maintain them for very long for a variety of reasons. It is comforting to know that part of my constant feeling that I just can’t adapt to whatever is being demanded of me this minute is… biological. It is hard for me to just adapt.

I’m not making up this struggle. It’s real.

I am reminded of a former-friend who was diagnosed with autism some years ago. I need to not use this label as an excuse to be an abusive asshole. Autism doesn’t make you an asshole. But some assholes use the label to justify their behavior and that’s not cool.

I will, of course, continue to work on adapting my brain and my behaviors to being more in compliance with being who I want to be. Neuroplasticity for the win. But it is really nice to feel like, “Some pieces of this change will be particularly hard. That’s ok.”

I don’t exactly shy away from hard work.

I just looked at the calendar and realized we really shouldn’t add anything in the next three weeks. It’s overwhelming. Given that I’m getting about 3 hours of sleep a night… I need to lower my expectations of myself right now.

I’m growing a brain, spinal cord, and nervous system. What are you doing with your time?

Pregnancy is so damn neat. I wish that as a species we spent more time marveling at the members of our species who are DUPLICATING THEMSELVES RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. It’s so neat to me.

Wanna know something weird as hell? I have practically no nausea. I’ve been god damn nauseous for most of my life, pregnant or not. I rarely feel good. Also I’m seeing dramatic negative poop response from wheat but without it I’m pooping like a champ. It’s solid, formed–perfect.

Poop is a huge thing in my life, yo.

Poop tells you about your health. My body is less irritated and that’s hella a big deal. I may do my best to cut wheat out this pregnancy. I’m not going gluten free. I’m just… avoiding wheat.

I don’t think it’s the gluten. I don’t know what it is. But I’m tired of burning diarrhea. One day in the past two weeks I had two slices of pizza and scones in the same day. I had burning diarrhea.

I feel like the most shocking part of this pregnancy is being totally turned off sugar. I ate one butter toffee almond yesterday. More would have made me sick. I ate one Dot. I could not eat more to earn money.

Even my tea is less sweet than usual. Sugar feels like poison.

Woo doctor said that we aren’t doing any detoxing any time soon. Just supportive stuff. Mostly I’m going to be increasing my daily consumption of minerals like whoa. Apparently I am depleted.

I think I miss Twitter more than the friend who divorced me last. That feels fucked up. Twitter was available 24/7.

Disconnected, go back to talking to yourself.

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Man. My feelings of alienation are on turbo. I don’t know what is contributing to what.

 

I don’t feel like it would be smart to talk about all the alienation stuff. I feel unliked. I feel unwanted. I feel rejected. But I don’t think my feelings are based on other people’s behaviors. I’m seeing folks about as often as I’ve been seeing people for years. Only one person has clearly said “Go the fuck away” this year and that was just. No one else has divorced me. So it isn’t that these feelings are based on the actions of anyone in my life. (I’m not blaming y’all for my shit.)

All day long I’ve been telling people that I’m “having all of the emotions at once turned up to 11.” I’m sad. I’m ecstatic. I’m depressed. I’m anxious. I’m tired. I’m energetic. I’m frustrated. I’m patient. I’m laughing. I’m crying. I don’t settle into one emotion before the next one comes up. My thoughts are racing like a speeding train.

I can think about something like 70 topics in a minute.

Many of them about how I feel so weird and stupid and bad and like I don’t fit anywhere and it is my fucking fault I will never be part of a group.

I have tried for group membership over the years. I can manage to feel like I’m allowed to be in a group for a little while… then I have to leave. Often there is no real, specific conflict. I just feel restless and like I don’t belong.

This is me. I’m not blaming anyone for this. But it’s hella bad right now.

My dental hygienist thinks my teeth are in the best shape they have been in, probably in my life. She said I’m not doing my normal instant pregnancy degradation and that’s wonderful. I let the newbie dentist in the practice look in my mouth. After I warned him that I have extreme dental anxiety and I don’t know him and this is gonna be rough… he put down the pick and decided he would just look around with the mirror. I like him more already. My main dentist is a wonderful old Jewish/bear man. He’s heading in the direction of retirement. He can’t work on me forever. I have to transition.

Why do I love Jewish people so much? If I go through my personal history of people I’ve had super intense relationships… almost half of them are Jewish. Given how few people are Jewish in the scheme of things… that seems interesting to me. It’s kinda like autistics. The people I get along with best are very very frequently autistic.

I always wonder about patterns.

Speaking of autism. We saw a somatic therapist today as a family. I think this was a great idea. (Thanks L!!) They are gender nonconforming and can help YC out with stuff. They have a lot of feedback about how I live in my body and ways they can help me that other therapy models do not offer. I am really excited. We went through an autism screening and they seemed to think that yeah… that seems like you.

I freak out about a lot of things. I freak out about a lot of changes. It isn’t all trauma based. My mood swings are not just hormonal or random or cyclical. I do not have bipolar disorder. I react to stimuli. I react to things that make my body feel bad.

It’s really fascinating how my 30’s are changing how I feel about a lot of the stuff that is going on with me. I’m not “just crazy”. I’m finding people who will look at me in different ways and say, “Oh yeah that makes sense. There are ways to help you handle some of these issues so you feel more comfortable.”

NOT SO I MAKE OTHER PEOPLE MORE COMFORTABLE BY NOT HAVING EMOTIONS IN FRONT OF THEM BECAUSE FUCK EVERYONE WHO THINKS THAT IS WHAT I SHOULD BE STRIVING FOR.

I want to feel more comfortable in my body. I want to feel less out of control and scared and helpless.

So yeah. My list of diagnoses are now up to: PTSD, GAD, PMDD, autism, ADHD, Fibromyalgia, golf elbow, tennis elbow, TMJ, and IBS.

Want to know what’s fascinating to me about my growing list of labels?

I feel less like I’m wrong. Even with the extreme alienation I’m currently feeling.

Oh. That’s a common thing for people with both autism and ADHD to feel. That’s something that people like me often feel.

That’s not crazy at all.

That’s a kind of comfort to me that I don’t know how to explain. I mean, I still plan to work on making progress on the symptoms that bother me. But if I am broken I am broken in ways that have names. I am broken in ways that are understandable with effort. I am broken in ways that folks are right this fucking minute pioneering ways to help folks.

I live in a magical time.

I am so lucky.

It is hard knowing that people demonstrate love and it is irrational to doubt them but my body still doesn’t know how to process feeling loved. My body still wants to deny that I am loved. My brain? I don’t know. There are 53 god damn people on our mailing list for events. That’s not including their spouses/kids. I have absolutely no justification for believing that EVERYONE hates me. That’s utter bullshit.

Surely this is something I can hack one of these years. This can’t be a permanent unassailable attribute. This must be something I can alter. Neuroplasticity for the win.

It was lovely talking to one of the pioneers studying neurodiversity today. I feel so lucky to live where I live.

I walked 1.85 miles today. I’m trying to keep moving.

It isn’t that my friends somehow fail to display the right behaviors. Because Noah has danced backward across a tight rope to demonstrate love and…

I really struggle to feel it.

The only people who I can easily feel their love are my kids. I’m not sure why. I don’t know if that will change as they age. I’m terrified of the future. But hey, I’m stretching out the little-kids-phase as long as possible. I’m going to have a solid 20 years of little kid time because of the spacing. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that sounds overwhelming. That’s what my mom did. *shudder*

Well. We’re in it. I want this so bad I feel explosive with need. I want this child in my life. I want this child.

And god. We are talking about two more. So that there isn’t a straggler kid who feels alone and like they don’t have a buddy.

Now it’s time for bed time reading. This is going to be our life for… decades.

Fucking intense

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Holy shit. I don’t remember my last pregnancies that well. That’s a biological mechanism that causes folks to be interested in getting pregnant again. I don’t recall being suddenly overwhelmingly suicidal. I want to cut so badly. It was a conscious decision to not walk over to the wall and start beating my head during dance class when I kept making mistakes.

My self hatred is way up around 8/9. I feel like I went from mild anxiety to full bore intense depression and this is horrible.

Do you know how grateful I am to be having this experience at 35 instead of when I was younger? It’s scary and it’s overwhelming and it feels shitty, but I have a steady track in my brain saying, “These are disordered thoughts. You don’t have to do what these feelings are telling you to do. It’s ok to just wait. Don’t react. Just… cry. That’s ok. Crying is awesome.”

So I’ve been sobbing almost all day for a couple of days now.

I’m sleeping for shit. For a bit now I’ve been taking 50mg pills of pot twice a day. Once with breakfast (takes 2 hours to kick in, lasts 4-6ish hours) and one with dinner. Because I REALLY want my level lowered I have been only taking the breakfast dose for the past 3 days and as a result my sleep is shit. Insomnia like whoa. Pregnancy exhaustion is no match for how much god damn sedation my body needs in order to calm down and sleep.

I have a woo doctor appointment tomorrow. I have a dentist appointment today. I have an appointment with a new therapist today. They are primarily a gender specialist for Youngest Child, but before we get into all of that they are going to talk to Noah and I about ADHD and autism. Because frankly I would like to have that conversation.

I was up for hours crying about my student who died. This is such a terrible loss. Oh dear Claudia I love you. You were so beautiful and kind and fierce and loving and… so young. I’m having a hard time dealing with her loss. I know it’s harder on her family, especially her young children. I certainly don’t think my suffering is the part that matters here. But I’m really sad anyway. The only thing I’m looking forward to about the memorial is that many of my former students were good friends with her and I’m looking forward to being able to cry and hug other people who loved her who understand just how devastating this loss is. I am so grateful she became my friend and not just my student. I think I learned a lot more from her than she learned from me.

Also weird: I’ve initiated sex twice in the past week. I barely ever initiate sex lately. Mostly only around ovulation. But right now I feel like I could ride a fire hydrant. Even though I’m depressed and feel shitty. It’s a seriously weird feeling. I KNOW I didn’t have this feeling with any previous pregnancy and it makes me have questions about testosterone levels in my body versus estrogen levels. Not that Youngest Child is a girl, but they do have a body that is consistent with primarily having a lot of estrogen.

Of course the “Are you going to check gender” questions are going to start. Uhm, well, with my last birth we made a bad assumption about gender starting with birth. I don’t really want to make that mistake in utero. Seems ridiculous. I’m good. I can wait.

I am absolutely ecstatic about getting to meet this child.

And I can’t stop the drum beat in my head that goes, “You are stupid and worthless and bad. You only hurt people. Why do you want to add to that list?”

I did delete Twitter. I don’t need more reasons to type all day. I don’t know how I’m going to limit my blogging without losing my fucking mind.

I feel really excited that my pain levels have dropped down to 2/3. Even with an inadequate amount of sleep. Maybe it’s all the vegetables.

God I want vegetables.

THIS IS THE WEIRDEST PREGNANCY.

I ate three bowls of vegetable soups yesterday. More than one kind, obviously.

I want soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup.

This is overwhelming.

Noah and I are having hard conversations about what safety means. What is adventure? How can someone be your life and an escape from your life? I don’t know but I know that for a while now I’ve been changing and I don’t even know how to talk about it.

Sex is different. I don’t want to be hurt all the time. I don’t want to take one for the team. I am not here to please you. And if that is what happens it fucks me up really badly. That’s not much like how I’ve been for most of my life. I’m ready to be done with being treated like a cheap whore no one has to respect. There are consequences in my body and I just can’t absorb them any more.

By the way, sex workers deserve better treatment than that. What the fuck.

I don’t think it is that I am completely over bdsm. But it’s hard to have Noah hit me. It feels like being treated “like I deserve” and that’s complicated and mostly bad.

I think I deserve so little and I already have so much. I am often tempted to encourage Noah to hurt me in ways that are… really not a good idea. Because I deserve it. Because I am a piece of shit and Noah is way nicer to me than I deserve.

That’s complicated and bad. It seems not-good to keep encouraging him to hurt me in ways that make me feel more like I should die.

I don’t know what the path forward looks like. I was detransitioning from the kid phase and now that is restarted with a bang. I don’t know what that means.

Also, because this kind of thing comes up during pregnancy, I’m at 176 lbs. Lighter than when I started either other pregnancy by 5-10 lbs. I think I have fucktastically more muscle mass compared to then. That marathon 5, almost 6 years ago left my body changed. I’ve continued exercising at a rate previously unseen in my life. I’ve eaten more vegetables in the past 5 years than in the first 25 years of my life put together.

This is such a different experience.

Like this.

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I ate 5 times today. Every single time it involved vegetables: tomatoes, peppers, asparagus, green peas, carrots, broccoli. Sometimes only vegetable, sometimes mixed with protein: eggs, a little ham, and chicken. About half a serving of fruit: a handful of raspberries and some apricots and apple cooked into the chicken . Some of the vegetables were a little starchy but I really don’t want more starch.

This is… not normal for me.

Walked 2.25 miles.

Did lots of chores.

Not a pathetic loser who should die. I hope

Food

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This is distinct enough that I’m going to write it down. I want vegetables. Like, crying with wanting vegetables. Meat sounds a little appealing, I want protein. I don’t want starch. The idea of eating bread sounds really disgusting and bad. I feel like it would make my body unhappy. Fruit is… I know I should eat it. But I don’t want the sugar.

This is a weird fucking pregnancy.

I want vegetables in soup so they are mushy and soft and filly my belly with a gentle caress of fulness.

Withdrawal

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I’ve blocked social media on my computer so I have less temptation to stand around talking to people with my fingers all day. This is going to feel really isolating and lonely. I use the input of social media to fill a lot of bandwidth in my brain that feels like it wants people-contact. With where my arms are… that’s not sustainable through this pregnancy.

I feel really lonely again, which makes me feel guilty. I don’t have any good reason to feel lonely. I’m surrounded by people all day. People where a lot of what we talk about are chores, learning exercises, video games and comic books.

I had this moment where I realized something: Noah’s fanatical hatred of “spoilers” means we just don’t get to talk about anything he hasn’t read/seen in front of him. And now he’s around a lot.

I’m still failing to make him feel like I like him a lot. Even though I don’t really talk to anyone much any more other than him. Even though I rarely leave the house other than for medical appointments. I’m not focused and gushing about him the way I did when I was 23. So I must not care any more.

I really should learn more about programming even though it is going to cause me pain and I hate it so much it makes me cry. Because we need more to talk about. Because he believes I don’t love him if I’m not obsessed with what he is obsessed about.

I can’t focus more on video games or comics. I just can’t. I’m at my limit.

But apparently I just can’t love him enough.

Limbo is over; change now.

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I blocked facebook (I shoulder surf on Noah’s account–I know a bunch of people who are sick with cancer and facebook is how I find out about them) and twitter on my computer. My memory of pregnancy is that my arms are going to buuuuuuuuuurn like fire. No more social media.

I revamped my pill box again. I took out all of the Tylenol PMs I’ve been using in the absence of genuine sleeping pills. I pray for pregnancy exhaustion.

I’m grateful that I’ve made progress on reducing my pot usage. At this point I feel very comfortable with my level of usage. Is it perfect/ideal? No. But mental illness is rarely ideal.

I’m really thrilled about how exercise is going. We are getting regular again. We are walking many days a week. We bike at least once and often several times a week. Noah and I are trying to do some running. Summer is coming and we have season passes to the water park. It’s a 30 minute bike ride away. We have like 7 more dance classes. I have 4 more sessions with my trainer. I won’t be continuing with dance or training through the rest of the pregnancy.

My massage therapists are on hold until the second trimester. Both of them are completely paranoid about first trimester massage. Given that I miscarried twice after massages… I’m ok with this paranoia. I’ll be careful with anyone touching my ankles or lower back.

Things are going much better with home schooling. I laid down the law with the kids “It will be this way or you will go to school” and all of a sudden they are super fucking compliant. They want to be home with me really bad. That’s wonderful. But I need to not have to baby you all day long if I’m having a baby. I can’t baby big kids any more. Both kids have been showing up and doing their chores and academics with one, maybe two prompts in the morning. We have been doing really well at getting everything done by 11am. I’m excited. They want to be with me; they want to jump through the hoops I’m putting in front of them. As a former public school teacher I find this startling. They want to please me in a way I have rarely ever seen a child want to please adults. It’s surprising every day.

I am not yet to a point where I am keeping my house as clean as I want and it’s bothering me a lot. It isn’t really any one else holding up my work. I’ve been struggling with my own internal motivation. I’ve been feeling sad and withdrawn and like I don’t want to keep pursuing friendships. I feel like I should run away and start again with people who haven’t already proven that they have limits. I mean, my friends are better than I deserve. I know that. But I’m feeling really sad and like the problems I have are all my fault and I should go where people are not already sick of my stupid ass. Almost every time I’ve seen someone lately I’ve felt like I said everything wrong and I was horribly offensive and stupid and rude and judgmental and I should be silenced.

I feel so wrong. I’ve been thinking it was PMDD but now that I’m pregnant… I’m just a self hating mother fucker.

I feel like I’m failing everyone in every way.

I’m barely keeping up with my garden. I feel so weary and useless.

I’m struggling with my cat and her decline. This feels so sad.

I’m kinda freaking out about all the death right now; I feel like I am failing all of these people who need more support and I’m not providing it.

I feel guilty that I’m not supporting my neighbors more because I know they need support and I’m feeling empty.

And at the same time I feel overwhelmed with elation because I’m going to have a baby. I get to meet another little person who isn’t going to hate me and see me as useless. They won’t see me as wrong and bad in the way other people do. They wouldn’t prefer that I die.

Do you know my cat?

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Puff isn’t doing very well. She’s 19 years old. She’s been in pain for quite some time. We’ve had her on a lot of medication for a bit now.

In the past couple of days she is having a harder and harder time walking. Her back legs are just…. crumbling. She can barely lift her claws out of blankets when she wants to stand up and she cries because the effort hurts.

It’s time.

Puff isn’t going to be around much longer. I might go to an event this weekend or I might (accurately) claim grief and stay home.

It’s time to say goodbye.

brief…

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Dad arrives today! Tomorrow is my Eldest Child’s birthday. She turns nine. Where did the time go?!

I have less than 6 hours to finish getting ready for Dad. Must hurry.

My body hurts, but in a fairly predictable way. My back is giving me trouble.

For the past few weeks I’ve been trying to use the 15mg capsules 3x’s/day and one time of a 50mg capsule. The days when I’m using 45mg only are going really poorly. When I went to the dispensary this time I just got the 50mg because right now I feel like I’m doing better with one capsule at breakfast and one at dinner. When I try to space them out during the day with less medication at a time I forget to take them and I spend a lot of time bouncing up and down mood wise. I’m pretty good at getting the two doses/day. I screw that up less often which makes the body load more consistent.

100mg is more than I wish I were using, but I’m not managing to find a good in between right now.

I’m wondering if I should have one 50mg pill a day and try to use a little bit of oil or flower. If I prepackage daily amounts of flower I don’t get all excited about “YAY I get to get stoned again.” I pretty much don’t get stoned any other way any more. I’m too acclimated. This might be the best way to get a little bit more than 50mg without going all the way to 100mg. The capsule dosing options aren’t great. The 15mg ones, even when I take two, feel like nothing at all. I need to take four or more before I feel it.

Brands aren’t very consistent.

I feel like I’ve been a grumpy bitch for a few days here because I’m bouncing hard off of Youngest Child. Even the babysitter (who is a short step shy of a saint) has been saying that YC is on a roll of being a pain in the ass. If the babysitter is complaining… that’s some egregious behavior. So I feel vindicated in being frustrated. But I also feel like I need to find a different way of coping with it.

But man if you have advice on how to convince a younger sibling that it’s HELLA STUPID to hit their older sibling every time they walk by… I want to hear it. I’m on the verge of saying, “Hey older sibling–when someone hits you repeatedly… sometimes the best way to make them stop is to make them bleed.” I haven’t said this yet… but if I seriously can’t get my younger child to stop hurting my older child… I don’t know what else to fucking do. We’ve tried all the non-punitive things I know to try. I redirect like crazy. We talk about feelings. We have ways to deal with feelings that are inappropriate.

I have all the books. I’ve tried all the tactics. I kinda wonder if this kid just has to get punched in the god damn face a time or two before they learn that hitting people sucks.

I’m at my wit’s end.

And that’s the news in brief.