We are at a point where Noah needs to talk about how he is feeling. He is afraid to talk to anyone we know because he will be describing me in unflattering ways and he feels he can’t do that within my support network.

I disagree.

I think Noah needs to go find some people who are his friends, my friends, or our friends and talk some shit. He needs some validation that I did shitty stuff. He’s feeling terrified of even admitting to himself how hurt he is.

He needs support and it can’t come from me because I’m the problem.

Noah totally does that man thing where 100% of his social support is supposed to come from his wife. This is not sustainable.

Noah is afraid to tell people that he thinks I’m a liar. I think that if I’m a liar we have bigger problems than people knowing that I do it.

Specifically he thinks I’ve lied a lot about the nonmonogamy stuff. I’ve said I want to not do x then done x almost immediately.

Yeah, that’s accurate.

I’m having a fucktastically hard time figuring out what I want. And that is leading to a lot of yes/no/maybe that comes out like lies. I say I won’t do something then I do it. That’s a lie. That’s not like a lie that’s a lie.

I said I wouldn’t be having sex with my submissive then I did. I said I would look for people who wanted group play… I’m not having that great of success. I said I would barely see people and instead I’d rather like to see people a lot.

Yes. These are lies.

Noah… it’s ok to be honest about the ways that I’m hurting you. It’s not only ok, it should be treated as mandatory. Or our relationship is broken.

If you are so hurt you can use the word you used earlier today… you need to talk about your feelings baby. You are important. You are a main character. Your pain does matter.

I love you. I’m not done. I’m not leaving. I want you. I do want forever.

And yes. I know that means I’m going to have to share you too.

It is a dawning realization.

Today we are going to the Exploratorium before a potluck discussion tonight. I didn’t sleep enough. Too busy keeping Noah awake with sex.

I think I have managed to convince myself that attention and oxytocin are the best ways to get through this pregnancy. I’m already at a reduced pot rate because of my Abilify period. I hope to keep the reduced tolerance and maybe even slash it some more. I have to. So the ounce I have needs to last until the cruise. I will find a way to stretch this. It’s going to mean a lot of by-choice-not-smoking days. Yuck.

Uhm, luckily I have a number of dates in the middle of the day coming up so I won’t medicate till almost bedtime?

When I was pregnant last time I used pot as an emergency “I’m about to fucking explode” helper and I didn’t love it but I didn’t feel that guilty. In the realm of drugs that doctors want me on for mental health problems… truly pot isn’t so bad. But I wasn’t using how I use now. That didn’t get going till after breastfeeding. If I was using 1/8 every few weeks I wouldn’t care at all about my usage while pregnant and breastfeeding. At this point I’ve had periods where I use 1/8 in two days and that’s not ok with me.

So I have to change it. Ok. That’s a changeable problem.

Also to work on: security/stability. I need to work on how to feel like Noah loves me as much as he does so I can handle him dating. I need to figure out how to get Noah dating to not feel like an existential threat.

That’s a lot of what I need to worry about with regards to this upcoming journey we want to do together. How can I feel safe? This is what I need to do. I need to work on this feeling of unsafe.

Ok. Everyone is ready to go.

I’m looking forward to today. It should be really awesome.

Today I feel very zen. Today I feel so happy and lucky. My life is intensely good. I may have complications and difficulty… but holy crud I’m feeling good and excited.

I feel happier than I have in a while. I’ve been off Abilify for two days. This is the third day. I’ve been off the Klonopin for a couple days longer. My mood is so much better. Hrm.

What does it mean to negotiate in bad faith? Does it mean someone knows they are saying something they can’t live up to? Does it mean negotiating and then changing your mind? Does it possibly include not knowing what you want?

Noah doesn’t want to think I’ve been doing bad things. He wants to believe I am doing something that is necessary on a primal level or I wouldn’t do it.

Today in therapy we talked a lot about how I’ve been fucking up. That wasn’t the way Noah wanted to phrase it, but that’s a lot of what it was. We are waiting to see just how far I’ll strain the enmeshment.

And then he will go date so he doesn’t feel so small and ignored. Ok.

How do we support one another through the changes that are coming? Because changes are coming. We aren’t going to do things how we have done them. We are going to be different.

And what is that going to mean?

Noah’s right that he can’t just be the boring one. He needs to be fascinating too. And people who are hard to catch are fascinating. Shit.

So many appointments coming up. Individual therapy and couples therapy and acupuncture and general practitioner and a groino. All in the next two weeks.

I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. I swear.

I don’t see a path forward that will not involve dating for both of us.

I only see the need for more support and love. We are not enough. Both of us are inadequate. We’ve been trying for adequacy for ten fucking years and here we are. Both happy but not as happy as we could be. Both of us are content knowing the other is giving all they have to give. And we want more.

Noah is being super generous and he’s going to wait a few months and let me figure out more of a pattern before he starts seriously pursuing someone. Because I want to be chased… and Noah is going to have to chase. Which takes a lot of energy. Which means I’ll lose a lot of his energy.

Shit.

Noah and I are going to need to figure out an additional all night babysitter. Preferably out of our house in the next month or so. We’ll need one more night. Anyone?

There’s a thing we need to do together and I don’t know when it can get scheduled.

I’ve been looking at the stats breakdown instead of just the page views on wordpress.com. Because of course. I get between 34-ish to 49-ish people per day. Rarely fewer even more rarely more.

And I know most of you. I also know that there are people on the internet who vow that they’ve followed me for years because they don’t know me and they hate me.

So you people who hate me, I ain’t talking to you. I’m talking to the small, fervent band of friends I have. People who wade through hundreds, sometimes thousands of pages of writing every year to know me. Holy tomato. I think there are at least three dozen people who are that loyal. There are maybe four dozen who keep up consistently if not daily.

Thank you for using enough room in your brain on me to know that I am not consistent. I appreciate it when you point it out to me. I appreciate it when you point out, “You’ve really changed how you talk about ______.” I appreciate the reminders. “You say ______.” I do. But I like hearing it in your voice. Your voice is so nice.

That’s part of why my children are so fucking bossy. I need help making an inside voice.

I am both loved and lucky.

I have twelve dates scheduled. If I manage sex twice on at least half those dates (likely) That’s at least eighteen times for sex during Mardi Gras. I have other date hours available that might get filled. Let’s say at least twenty times from other folks. So then we get into the fact that Noah and I have been having sex 25-30-ish times a month.

I might hit fifty times during Mardi Gras. I think I’ll keep track.

Time to stop thinking about fun. Breakfast is ready. There’s a full house of kids. Their ages are: 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, & 4. I’m having so much fun.

We managed to move up our joint therapy session. We go to the first one this Thursday. I’m happy about this. We need some help with what we are doing.

I need to do some art around intentions. And that breaks my head. Ewwww. I’m that fucking woo woo.

Yes, motherfucker I am. Nobody is giving it to me as an assignment so it’s ok. I’m doing it for me. To organize my thoughts.

Who do I want to be at the end of this journey. What do I want my relationship to be like? What do I want my life to be like?

We shouldn’t finish this process till the remodel is done. Oh shit. I’ll call in the morning.

I’m pre-planning Mardi Gras. Like I do. If you aren’t on my schedule and you wish you were… well… the window will soon close. For a few years more than likely. (Which isn’t forever.) I’m just not going to be able to find time for new people. So uhm, yes. I’m not going to hunt for more people to fill time with. But I’m not done booking Mardi Gras.

Here’s my passive aggressive state of affairs.

I like being chased.

If you can’t be bothered to chase even a little then you don’t want me bad enough.

I gotta be realistic about my energy.

And I’m there for sex. To be clear. I have one month to uhh, err, burn it out of my system for a while.

After that I’m going to go do that breeder thing. Which means you are going to need to want to hang out with me for my sparkling wit and sobbing countenance (I don’t feel good for most of pregnancy) if you want to spend time with me.

Cheers, motherfuckers.

I sorta feel like the remodel from hell exists in its form to give me time to think about the different email lists/calendars I want to have for how to invite people over: vanilla friends for hangout time, dates, sex parties, vanilla friends for parties.

This weekend I was told I held court at the party I was at. Oh you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

Just wait.

Soon my house will be ready. Like. The kind of ready I’ve been working on for years.

I want you to see my happy place.

I am lucky; I am lucky; I am lucky.

Noah is very opposed to thinking of this as a jubilee. That makes it sound (to him) like “Congratulations on suffering through ten years of sex with Noah. Your reward is fucking other people.” For some reason Mardi Gras (for him, near as I am able to parse) is working out to mean: “I have followed rules for ten years and I need a break from rules.” That is feeling less scary? If this is more about my impulsivity and less about needing to be rewarded for something…. I don’t know exactly.

But I’m kinda guessing. Don’t trust me.

Medicating. That’s a lot of why I write so much. I keep myself company while I medicate.

Although I should go work on the calendar.

doo dee doo

Ok, all the people who have asked have been added. All the hangout hours I have until the cruise are posted. That’s not all my babysitting time, but the kids don’t want me inviting people over during babysitting time much this summer. They told me so. I’m going to negotiate for only three days a week of no people/going anywhere in the fall. We’ll see if I win or I have to compromise.

And I had breakfast and it’s time to have a day now.

Other than the remodeling situation I really shouldn’t complain about my life. I’m having ups and downs, yeah. But my life is so fantastically good.

I was reminded today when I dropped by a party with folks I’ve known for more than half my life. Things are good. I can’t complain. There are things we are working on, but… I can’t complain.

Do you know what my big personal problem is? When I’m an asshole to Noah sometimes there are consequences in the form of him being hurt.

Yup.

He’s not locking me down. He’s being hurt. And he’s talking to me and trying to find ways for me to hurt him less while still getting my needs met.

No complaining, wench.

I love bleeding. The second day of bleeding is blissful. I don’t feel so psycho and depressed and anxious and suicidal.

At the same time, I sat in the shower today and counted on my fingers: July, August, September, October… maybe November… hopefully not December…..

I am a fantastically lucky woman. I really am. In this year Noah is letting me have the lovers I want and the baby I want.

Holy shit my life is blessed.

I went through and revamped a calendar that existed for the household anyway. I’ve added the folks who said, “I want to know when I could theoretically drop in” so far. If you want to be added tell me.

I will… update it over the next few days. There’s only one date on it so far. I can probably figure out which days are available for the rest of the summer in just a few minutes since the kids want 5 days a week at home with no guests.

But I need to look at Google calendar and the white board and the written calendar. My life is complicated. It’ll take a few days.

Especially given who popped up and said “Oh do it!” Yes. I’ll do it. My platonic friends want permission to drop in? Yes. Yes. Yes. Noah doesn’t have the same feels about y’all. Yes. You want to come over, Oh yes.

Platonic friends are awesome friends because then I can’t be told I’m ditching all my friends for lovers.

Yessssssssssss

(I don’t want to actually ditch my friends for lovers and I really don’t want to be accused of it. I just went and spent a weekend with Sarah. P came to dinner. I AM STILL SEEING FRIENDS, DAMNIT.)

I saw lots of friends today. See. I can do it.

I saw folks I have known for almost twenty years. Way more than half my life now; we reflected how happy we are about that fact.

As always I feel gross about medicating. I feel guilty about the time spent. I feel gross for how much I smell. Oh man.

But I need to sleep hard tonight. With luck it’ll be a good night. Tomorrow is semi-restful then my Bonus Kids come over. Wheeeee. Wednesday we will head to Santa Cruz after my Bonus Kids are picked up. Tonight’s sleep matters.

Because I’m still using this space to be honest with Noah… I’m still talking to the Quiet One a lot. He hasn’t been scared off by our various drama yet. No one else is frequent. Everyone else is kinda getting scared off, I think. But I’m guessing and I shouldn’t pretend I can read minds. The Professor gets mad at me when I do.

We’ve only been talking for a month. We’ve had a few make-out dates and that is as far as it has gone.

I like him. He’s another one my shrink is going to flip out about when I come clean. My shrink is now happy that “Deity seems to have such great respect for my marriage.” Sigh. I could wish for a hair less respect. Well, not less respect. But… never mind.

Fuck. Not less respect. Just… I’m a greedy bitch. He’s hot. Noah was describing his perception of the visuals of me having sex with Deity. Apparently it is distinctive how much I enjoy it. Even to someone who is my absolute favorite person to have sex with. Even to someone who has seen me have sex with a lot of people.

I could wish Deity had more enthusiasm. But you take what you can get.

I think I understand why. But I’m… being me and filling in the blanks with what I’m guessing and that’s always fraught.

I mean… I am right sometimes.

I feel really guilty for how good it feels to be talked to this much. I’m trying to figure out the boundaries around it. There are going to be more boundaries. I can tell. But right now I’m still doing that tiptoe into someone’s personal space before I’ve hit the spiked wall… It’s… exhilarating.

His boundaries aren’t where I am used to them being. I’m wrong about every assumption. Shit. My mental model is going to grow slowly. I hope I am not too awful in the process.

I am so weary. But right this minute I feel blessed beyond all comprehension. Noah you are being generous beyond any expectation of generosity. Clearly… you love me. Or you wouldn’t be putting up with what you are putting up with.

Thank you, my love. Thank you for everything.

Seeing friends today was an interesting case study is oxytocin flooding from various sources. I hugged many old friends. Only kissed Noah, and I think barely. I did get an oxytocin boost. But it was nothing like a makeout session. Even just thinking about a makeout session is more flooding.

Kissing kissing kissing kissing.

There is a problem I’m going to have soon that I’m looking forward to. It is going to be a bit of a problem but I’ll just deal. It’ll be fine.

Ahem. *cough*

Somehow I suspect my sex life is going to be massively impacted by having guests in the next bedroom. Sigh.

This trip may be a chance for me to rest up for Mardi Gras. I keep telling Noah: Mardi Gras only lasts for a day… maybe a week depending on how you look at it. Not a month.

He wants me to do it for a month. Whatever I want. Whoever I want. Whenever I want. Uhm, following obvious prohibitions around kid boundaries. Any votes for how explicitly I document?

I now know my babysitting windows for that whole time period.

Ok I need sleep. G’night.

Every so often I catch up on Noah’s private writing. Mostly my rule for myself is I’m not allowed to get upset about what I find when I snoop. I totally failed yesterday.

Noah calls it “going limp”. I call it going to the dark place. All I can see is how bad I am. How much I hurt Noah among many other people. I can’t see why I should be allowed to continue to live to hurt people. It’s really hard for Noah when I do this.

I lashed out at more than one person yesterday. In more than one big, dramatic way. I am so sorry.

I’m hurting Noah. And part of that is because we are both choosing to be hurt by things that are scary.

Choosing to be hurt. Oh that makes me sound like a douche. But I’m hurt by Noah’s actions too. I’m not just saying it about Noah.

We want enmeshment without jealousy. How is that even possible?

I don’t know. But yesterday when I read that Noah thinks the enmeshment is just already dead because of what I have done… I lost it. I’ve already killed our marriage?! Then what in the fuck are we going to do? Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

He has since revised his commentary and said, “I was really angry”… which isn’t something I’m in a position to judge. He has also told me that I am dumb for wanting to just end relationships over him saying that. Ok he didn’t say dumb. But unwise to the point where he sent an email to someone I’m dating saying that I’m over reacting and please don’t take it too seriously.

Shit.Noah and I both have scared feelings about the future. We both want to make big dramatic gestures to fix things now. Guess what? That doesn’t work so well. I did email the therapist and say maybe waiting a month before our first joint session is dumb. We’ll figure it out sooner, somehow.

I am at the point where I basically think that if I have to lock down to monogamy again we probably shouldn’t have another baby because my big kids don’t deserve to have the weight of depression dropped on their head the way it would happen if I had another super isolated pregnancy. I don’t do well being alone and feeling trapped. It’s a horrifying feeling for me and I get so god damn sick. I’m going to need company this time.

Thank you Rose for the offer of Krissy sitting. I’ll take you up on it. I’ll take anyone up on it this time. I have to. I’ll have to tell the kids that they get their summer of 5 days a week off from people but when I’m pregnant… I get guests as much as I want.

If I want to get through another pregnancy with as much of a good mood as I manage most of the time with my kids… I need help. I am incompetent to manage such an emotional/chemical state alone. I am not truly a loner. I am not an introvert. Too much alone time eats me like a flesh eating bacteria. It hurts.

I know it isn’t fair how quickly it feels true. I know it isn’t fair how selfish I am once I start feeling this kick in. This is existential for me. This is at a soul level. I am so afraid of being alone.

But I do like my alone time. Ahhhhhh. But not too much.

Just enough to get my thoughts together. Then, more people please. I know this is hard on Noah. Noah wants allllllllll my energy. Sorta. Only then I overwhelm the shit out of him. We are both so very jealous. He’s working hard to get me to understand that he is about as jealous as I am he is just better at managing it.

After reading his journal entries I believe it a whole lot more. That’s an angry, sad man. I am so sorry, my beloved. I am so sorry that I am hurting you so much with my behavior.

I am saying that I want to not do x and then doing x right away. It is true. That isn’t your imagination. That’s happening.

I said I wouldn’t date anyone else who wasn’t willing to do group play. Then someone fell into my lap. It feels like a direct slap in the face to Noah. Cupid was supposed to be the only person I was seeing who didn’t want group play. Sigh.

But I don’t know how to turn down someone meeting me and seeing me as a delicious challenge to help manage. I don’t know how to say no to someone who says, “She seems crazy high maintenance and I’m here for it” to Noah. Yeah. I am. I am crazy high maintenance. And if you want to help, fuck yes.

I know you are cute and all and you are offering to do it platonically. Because you think that would assuage Noah’s or my nervousness. Awww, aren’t you cute. No that’s not going to help. Because it is how much I think about you. It is about the fact that even if you feel like you are sated because you get enough sex so you can have platonic relationships with people you are attracted to…. I don’t know what sated feels like. I want more sex. Even though sometimes I physically have to stop because I’m worn out. I still wish I could be having more. I curse the delicacy of my tissues.

Ahh, speaking of the delicate tissues. I started bleeding. Which would be enough by itself to explain going nutty yesterday. My hormones hate me so much. Yesterday was a “I should cut myself to shut up so I don’t drive out to the ocean and go for a permanent swim” day. PMDD sucks. It’s a known problem. For 5-10 days before bleeding there is intense urge to self harm and/or commit suicide. I tend to go back and forth with remembering to ignore my urges or thinking “But I’m thinking this because of LIFE SITUATION and that is different! See, I am a terrible person and I should be punished.”

Crazy high maintenance. And you want to sign up for that? Other folks are backing away slowly. It feels like they are smart to do so. I am a walking time bomb. Hopefully I will mostly hurt myself. Sigh.

I feel really bad but I don’t want monogamy any more. It was too hard. It was too isolating. I know it would be different with you working from home but it is a different kind of subtle rejection all day long. You are there and I can’t talk to you or I’m a problem.

Muh. That sucks.

I have to let you work. I know that you think it is shitty that I am so jealous of your working hours but … it’s not jealousy exactly. It’s me trying to figure out how to deal with my fucked up chemistry in all the hours you aren’t available. I still have to deal with me during that time and it’s hard.

I know that dealing with me is hard.

I know that I’m going to have to learn how to accept things changing in a lot of directions. I’m not the only one who needs support.

I know.

I’m prepared for it to hurt. And I need to get a whole bunch of plans in place for how to deal with my self harm urges.

I did reach out to a fellow self harm person and talked about it instead of doing it yesterday.

Where are my cookies?

Where are my chips for days abstinent? I didn’t do it because of a higher power. I’m trying to change this coping method because frankly I’d rather have connection than need to cut myself to remember that connection isn’t for me.

I’d rather have connection.

Thank you, Noah, for sending that email. Thank you for wanting to be nice to your pet even though I am bringing more strife into your life. I am.

You have trusted me for so long because I treated “I try” like “I will kill myself to get this done.” Since I started dating other people things haven’t gone like that. “I’ll try to only date people who want group play” didn’t last a week. Yes, that has been true of thing after thing. I’m being terrible about keeping my word. I am being so impulsive it is a serious problem.

You keep telling me that obviously I need this or I will die. I’m scared it is true. I am scared I need people available to connect with me more hours of the day than you have available. I use my friends for this as much as I am able. There are still gaps.

This is about me. This is about the caverning gaping maw of need in me. I need to be loved. I have a lot of not-being-loved to make up for. Decades. I know you do too Noah. I know you weren’t much more loved than I was, heck maybe less. I have always been able to inspire it in small ways from strangers. You grew up being universally loathed. You have learned to just not need anyone but me and the kids.

I haven’t. I need.

I hunger. I ache.

I want.

I want to feel worthy of being taken care of and right now I reject offers with a spiked mace. I have to change this aspect of myself. I don’t know how. But I have to figure it out anyway.

With luck I will be typing less for a while for good reasons. In just a few hours I go pick up a friend for a long visit at my house. They’ll be here 19 days and I bloody well hope I won’t be online much. But usually me going offline signals bad stuff and people get nervous and start pinging me. So, let me warn you.

Breakfast is almost ready. I didn’t completely wreck things yesterday. And today brings the promise of a new perspective to listen to. A completely different change of things to think about. I’m so happy.

I get to bring my friend to Wonderland. What a gift.

Noah is going to wait till September then start looking around for folks to see solo. Because neither of us really want him going through another period of intense depression if I stop wanting sex.

I’m really scared of this. I deal with Noah dating by hiding in a small space and crying and cutting. Because it is so existentially terrifying to me. No, this isn’t responsible or adult. But it is how I have been coping since I was a small child and it is only fairly recently I have admitted that this is the long-term pattern so I’m not open to being shamed as a “manipulator” because this is how I handle my feelings.

I’m broken. But that doesn’t mean I’m trying to manipulate people. I’m just trying to get through the best I can. I wish my best was better.

I am very grateful that at least three people have already specifically said that if Noah dates they can be Krissy-sitters. Which could help. I have not traditionally had the umph to schedule such things. I’d rather stay home, feel rejected, and hurt myself. Why ask other people to make me feel good when my expectation of life is that I will be rejected and I should be hurt because I am unworthy of being alive.

This isn’t about Noah or the people he dates. Not really. This is about me. This is about my mom. This is about intrinsic worth problems.

I’m thinking a lot about sex vs attention. I think I have mostly always treated sex as attention. The kind I could get.

I was shocked when Deity told me he would be ok with non-sex dates. Aren’t you dating me because you want to get laid? It is weird for me.

Know what I’m noticing? Mostly my folks are people who I pursue. I initiate contact. I ask for dates. I ask for time. I’m the one makes sure we have a relationship.

Someone is pursuing me. And not really for sex. Ok, sex might be nice at some point. But sex isn’t the goal here. Clearly.

You know how you aren’t supposed to compare people? I’m noticing what it feels like to have someone initiate contact with me the way I usually do with other people. oh goodness that’s nice.

I am not sure I have ever been pursued like this in my life. This is by someone who isn’t demanding/pushing for sex. I think there was one person who would have been like if I let him but he had already abandoned children in multiple countries so I told him to fuck all the way off. And he wanted to do it because of sex. He wanted to be having sex for 2-4 hours/day and I could keep up so he wanted to keep me. But no. You abandoned your kids. I don’t want you.

Noah was really distracted at the beginning of when we first dated. He pursued me hard, but he didn’t have a lot of time free. It wasn’t daily. And it was always sex focused. Then I dumped him. Then he showed up and asked me to marry him. Which is a lot of pursuing, and not all of it about sex.

Ok, I know that asexuality exists. But I don’t grok it. I know that you can have romantic but not sexual feelings… but I don’t grok it. I know that someone can theoretically get to a point where they are having “enough sex” and they still want companionship… but I don’t grok it.

Do you know when I don’t want sex? When I’m having hormone problems, my children are present, or I am too torn up to manage.

Otherwise I want sex. I don’t understand this not wanting sex.

Ok, so like I don’t want to frantically bang all the folks I’m friends with from the homeschool group. No. That’s not how it works. I do have blinders where there are non-sexualized people. But I don’t have romantic feelings for them. I have intense affection. I want their company. I think they are lovely people to model off of.

It’s romantic/companionship sans sex I don’t get.

It’s kind of funny. I see Eldest Child manage this. She has romantic feelings without any hint of sexuality. I watch what that looks like. It is….

Whoa.

At her age casual like meant I should have sex with someone let alone intense romantic feelings.

Every day I wonder who I could have been if I would have had a different life.

I’ll never know. Just keep walking.

Last night at bed time all of a sudden I got really giddy. We are going on a cruise! And I will feel beautiful! And people will be there just because they love us and want to support us because otherwise they sure as shit wouldn’t do something like that. Ha!

I know that going on this cruise doesn’t mean that these people love me more than anyone else. It means they have the disposable income and time available. It isn’t about how much other people love me. This is a big big big big big big hurdle.

You don’t have to jump this hurdle to love me. I don’t believe that even a little bit. I’m loved by a lot of people. I know that.

But I’m really excited that there are people who think that the Krissy & Noah Show is worth this much effort. We will try to make it a fun experience. My trip to Florida last year is going to seriously pay off. I know exactly where to go in the Keys. I want to take everyone. We will need to rent two minivans.

Let me show you some of the most beautiful parts of this country before it disappears. Miami just might disappear in our lifetime. At the very least it is going to be damaged worse than New Orleans at some point. Come see it now. It is beautiful.

Thank you for coming with us. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

No. This cruise isn’t a necessary part of proving you love me. But it’s a pretty dramatic showing from a few special people. Jenny is my oldest friend. My Bonus Family is coming. And one unexpected delightful additional family. I didn’t know you were going to be so important to me when I met you. Gosh I’m glad Noah met you at work. That was serendipity.

I look fucking hot in the bikini I bought for the trip. The kids are looking forward to wearing their Miami bikini’s.

Noah should get a full body modesty suit and he hasn’t yet. Ha.

I have uhm done clothes shopping. I do shopping for and on trips. Most of my clothing I bought for the trip to Scotland. I don’t need a lot for this trip so I’m probably done. Maybe I can find my way to Santa Cruz and find some new bloomers though. Mine died an ignoble death.

What a blow out. Sigh.

I even got some miniskirts for Noah’s sake. Eek. My preference is ankle length (or at least cover the knee). Clearly I am a giving and loving wife. Even though I’m not real big on the trophy wife thing…. heh… once in a while I’ll be generous and wear a damn miniskirt.

It’s the little things that make a marriage happy.

I don’t really like it when Noah is depressed because I’m physically incapacitated and I have nothing to give. Which kinda makes it sound like I need to get over resisting what we know combats his depression.

I don’t like reality very much. Reality is a shitty place with horrible things that burst the bubble of my feeling of safety that my glittery hoo haw will make it all come out ok.

Nope. I failed. LIke I fail at so many things. That’s life. I am inadequate. Yup. That’s true. Will I be able to find the courage to ask for help dealing with my resulting bouncing feelings this time? Every other time I have retreated alone to hurt myself.

It’s not because I am trying to manipulate anyone. It is because that is what I think I should do when I have let someone down by not being enough. I don’t know that I have enough ask in me to deal with this. That’s the problem. Because people are busy. Because I’ll suck up my courage and ask that one person and…. they can’t. So I will sit home and cry and hurt myself.

Because I am a terrible burden that no one deserves to have thrust upon them. Because I have never been anything but a terrible burden. I have really already received far more than my fair share of help in this life. Whatever help that exists should go to someone better.

I should just shut the fuck up.

I never seem to manage that part, do I?

I wish I could. I wish I could just hurt myself and shut up about it. But this is part of the record so that my kids will be able to look back some day and go “You were weird around (dates/ages) what was going on?” and I will be able to honestly tell them. But I won’t tell them now. As children all of this has to happen off screen. But someday they will want answers and I don’t want to rewrite history. It is what it is.

I want to be as honest as I can be. Besides, the more honest about it I am with myself the more I can treat it like a fungible problem. I like that word. Fungible. It means replace it with another. That’s kinda what I do with myself. I play games and I move around the goals. I try to figure out how to replace bits and pieces of the game with other bits or pieces.

Can I find a way to replace terror with security?

Fuck if I know. I got turned down for yet another PTSD study. I’ve already done too much work. I’ve tried too many therapies. I’m too motivated.

We have some couples therapy time coming up. It is a long and inconvenient drive and location. So whee. It’ll work out. There’s some stuff we need some outside help with. We can’t listen without shutting down and being defensive. We can’t be open to what the other is really saying we are locked into our fear. We need some help. I’m scared it won’t be enough but it is the next step in trying. We aren’t close to divorce or anything like that. But we aren’t being nice to each other and we want to be. I’m not hearing what the most important pieces are to him and I’m running rough shod over some of the things he cares about and pussy footing around things I don’t need to and I don’t really understand which is which. I need some help breaking this down.

I am not always the best listener. Sometimes I’m sorta a self involved asshole. A little bit.

We need to make this work. We need to find a way or make a way. There is no way out but death and I’d rather not commit suicide right as he finally let me meet the third child I’ve been longing to meet for half my life.

Breakfast time.

I like having lots of friends with benefits and lovers. So many that I really kinda have to be a comet. I can’t be regular or consistent. It works when it works.

I think bdsm stuff is going to go closer to back to that box. I just don’t have the drive when I’m pregnant. (Although I just had the most intense mental picture of pegging my submissive while pregnant. That was quite a thing to just jump into my head. Well hello there.)

I don’t want to break up with people, not really. But I do want to… loosen the expectations of frequency. Maybe you won’t beat me again for a few years but it’ll happen again.

There is this one friend/occasional play partner. She was the third person I ever played with and the first person I played with in the munch/party crowd I spent years in intensively. We have never played often. But we do sometimes. Not every year. Just when it works. And that’s been happening since I was 18 years old. In August I asked her if we could do a 16th anniversary scene. She said yes. I’m thrilled.

But that kind of occasional is important to me. I like the trailing end of love that comes with it. “Ok I know it’s annoying that I’m not up for play more… but when I am it’s great!”

In some of my interactions the breaks come mostly from me and in others it comes from the other side. I can cope.

My Sarah has a phrase she likes for an important person in her life: “Once and Future Sweetie” and I love it. (I also love the man she attaches it to–he’s good people.) But I feel like that with folks. I don’t actually get done done done with people that much. But I may run out of drive to force a relationship and if you don’t ensure it is ongoing it just won’t exist.

So much of my life is about me pushing relationships on folks. I’m an asker. But it takes a toll. I run out of ask sometimes. I feel too ashamed.

I feel ashamed of wanting so much more than other people. More intensity. More conversation. More sex. I feel like I’m always trying to tone it down so I don’t bother people too much. More time spent. More work done. More more more. More attention. More stimulation.

I really wanted to go to Friday Night Waltz tonight. It sounds fun. But I’m so tired and I need to spend my energy on painting. We have house guests arriving on Sunday. They stay for 19 days. I need to have the work done in the house more than I need bonus exercise at bedtime.

fuuuuuuuuuck remodeling.

I am going to ask them if they want to go to the 4th of July party we would like to go to. I have friends visiting one Wednesday. Hopefully my Bonus Kids will come over, even though it’ll be a zoo. It will be a joyful zoo. And the Bonus Mama would really like my friend. So I’m crossing my fingers.

Beyond that… I have no dates or socializing planned for the 19 days. I need to pay attention to my friend.

It hurts me very much that I have traveled all the way across the country and people who profess to love me a lot paid no attention to me whatsoever. My goal is for my friend and her two sons to leave glowing with love and attention. I need to not spread out what I have to other people. I need to keep it home. They need the infusion pretty badly. I mean, don’t we all. But this mama needs to feel love a little more than average. I want to fill her bucket.

And they are used to a very quiet retreating life with very little socializing. They don’t travel like this. This is all my initiation. Ha. Come visit me. I miss you. I want to pay attention to you.

But everyone else can wait. I’m not going to do what that dude in NYC did to me. I flew across the country to see him and he had a first date with someone else while I sat in the room and waited for him to be done beating and fucking her.

I sure know how to follow around folks who aren’t that into me. I’m over it. I’d like to be worthy of better fucking treatment.

Noah acts like I am.

Or my other friend in New York who declined to put pants on and walk three blocks to see us because that was too much trouble. You know what? I find visiting people in New York to be horrifyingly awful and I’ll never do it again. I find that visiting people in New York means I go from liking someone a lot to not liking them as much because they treat me like shit.

I’m not bringing New York habits home. Fuck. That. Shit.

I’m not sure why I’m feeling pissy about that just now.

I’m thinking about how I want to be treated. I both want someone who is comfortable saying “I would like to see you, scheduling?” and comfortable hearing “Good god not this week/month.” Which is hard.

I want someone who wants to kiss me so badly that they don’t walk past opportunities but they have excellent boundaries about keeping their hands and lips to themselves when my kids are around. Well, even keeping hands to oneself isn’t really the same. I hold hands with my friends in front of my kids. Always have. I hug my friends in front of my kids and I don’t want that to change. My kids see me climb into fully dressed piles of adults and snuggle lots of people.

I’m comfortable with that.

Because in their head there is a difference between sex (what they know I do with their dad) and snuggling/dating.

They don’t understand what the difference is yet, but they have a fuzzy perception.

I like that my kids are comfortable with physical boundaries with people. They are comfortable asking for and giving hugs when they want to and when they aren’t in the mood they are clear about that. They have no baggage around owing anyone anything. When someone tries to wheedle affection all of us are harsh. “What part of setting a boundary is hard for you to hear?”

I feel good about how this part is going.

Do you know what I did for the first six months of having a baby? I sit in a chair and nurse and play with my computer. Because I didn’t have anyone but Noah to talk to and he’s busy a lot.

It was ok once. It was hard a second time. I can’t do it a third time. I can’t. I have to be too emotionally consistent with the big kids this time. I can’t be as variable. The pressure continues to mount. Shit.

Oxytocin. That has to be the way.

Maybe when the baby comes Noah can work a little bit more on the weekend so that his ignoring-Krissy-time overlaps better with when other people are available. I don’t know. Maybe?

I bet you that if it were on a Saturday I could talk my submissive into picking up a weekly shift where he comes over and talks to me and reads with the big kids and maybe rubs whatever part of me is most achey that day. I betcha. But it would have to work around his schedule which is more demanding than Noah’s is these days.

I’d be happy to wear out the hands of as many people as I can during pregnancy and the year after. I hurt. Noah has limits. He does a lot. I’d be up for as many volunteers as I can get.

I’m an opportunist.

Do you know what I feel intensely secure about? If I can figure out how to do it so I feel ok my submissive will adapt to any and all boundaries I set even as they move up and back and sideways and forwards. He’s already been through this roller coaster once with him and I didn’t even let him in as much as I will this time. No, I won’t be the sadist of his dreams for a while. But that’ll come back too.

I don’t think I’m over wanting to carve him up. I’m not over wanting to kiss him or fuck him. I’m just… scattered and tired.

I know I’m not over wanting to kick him in the nuts. That is one of the most satisfying, awesome feelings IN THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD. It is just a sometimes treat.

Right now the idea of doing a kicking scene makes me need a nap. I’m so tired.

Am I a user? Do I give back to the people I take from? I don’t know. I really don’t.

All I know is I have acupuncture in 3 hours and a phone call with a couples therapist in 6 hours. See, we are all proactive and shit. There’s stuff we need some help to figure out how to discuss. What do you do when you need help? You go find some fucking help.

This isn’t our first rodeo and it won’t be our last.

We’ll make sure of that.

I have so much to do.