Category Archives: adult-only

Published in the adult-only category

Anxiety, fuck you very much.

2 Replies

Feelings. Big feelings. Let’s see how vague I can be.

I can fire you. That’s easy. You… you are not worth the stress. Thank. Fucking. God. I can fire you.

I can’t fire you. I wouldn’t if I could. I don’t know what I would do to you.

I don’t want to go.

I want to go so bad I can taste it.

I’m really sad about logistics.

I’m so happy that everything is falling into place.

My stomach hurts. My head hurts. My arms hurt. My shoulders hurt. My back hurts. My hips hurt. My knees hurt. My ankles hurt. My jaw hurts. My hands hurt. My heart hurts.

When I think of you, I cry. Because this pain is never ever going to stop.

I am not being a very good wife lately. I am not hitting quota. I don’t feel whole, safe, sexy, or fun. I feel damaged, scared, weak, and pathetic.

Don’t get upset. Or you will be punished.

I don’t want to be touched and I don’t want to be alone. I want to stop shaking.

I want my belly to stop hurting. It hurts and hurts and hurts. I don’t think I will puke tonight. It’s a shame. That would end the pain.

9.5 weeks. Then I will run away.

Run away. Run away. Don’t be here. Be gone. Go away.

I want to say that no one wants me anyway. But that’s a lie. Noah wants me. Sarah wants me. Jenny wants me. Kira wants me. Pam wants me. The kids are coming with me.

I just came up with five people without even trying. Stop bitching that no one wants you, whiner.

My children tell me, “I’m allowed to whine. I learned it from you.” I glare and don’t argue.

We are all punchy and difficult. It’s… a week. I should go re-read the 7 year old book. 4 1/2 is not as rough as it was with Shanna. I remember a lot of time spent with my jaw locked. I remember really struggling. We are at disequilibrium… but it’s not that bad.

Hey self–house remodel is in flux, Noah’s job is in flux, social stuff is in flux, trip stuff is changing and scary and soon. Maybe don’t be so mad about having feelings? Big feelings. Mixed feelings.

It’s ok. It will all be ok in the end.

Plug along.

Group camping isn’t

Leave a reply

I asked a lot of people about camping this weekend. Between other engagements, work, and illness… it’ll be us plus one friend.

Good thing I’ve been telling Noah for weeks, “I’m prepared for this to end up being just us.”

It means I get one bonus friend and I will celebrate that all the more.

At the maximum there were 29 people saying they wanted to go. Life is complicated.

Small is fine.

1 Reply

Noah, Shanna, Calli and I spent the morning talking about our upcoming Disney cruise.

I have a surreally privileged life.

All three of them need to update their passports. I’m good for six more years.

Shanna will be Noah’s Best Person. We negotiated for a while about a tux and how sharp Shanna would look. She’s contemplating. Calli wants to be my Best Person. I think that sounds divine.

We think red and blue will be the colors. Outfits maybe kinda sorta Dickens-costume-like so they can be multi-purpose.

It doesn’t really matter if anyone else likes it. Jenny has said she will try to bring her family. I’m barely close to counting on that because Jenny doesn’t bluff. Outside of that I’m not sure that we will have more guests. I don’t think anyone else will be up for paying for it. And it interferes with school.

(But going this week is way the heck cheaper than going during the actual summer break season. And this is our real anniversary. Small is fine.)

I talked to Disney. We are booked for a vow renewal. We have our cruise line details. I’ll talk to a wedding coordinator this week.

We’ve paid deposits. (And insurance in case of cancellation because whoa.)

If Jenny ends up not being able to go I will recover. I’ll be sad and disappointed, but I’ll recover. It’s ridiculously expensive. It is not ok to expect people to hemorrhage that kind of money to prove their love. I do not expect anyone to come with us.

No matter what the four of us are going to have a very good time. I’m very glad I get to hang out with them.

It is weird finding out what living in the walled garden is like. This is what the protected, safe, security feels like. I may not have hoards of people but I have safety, love, and so much privilege.

I feel kind of ashamed of myself for spending this much money like this. I could pay down my mortgage. I could remodel my house. I could donate it to people who actually fucking need the money. Instead I will be a selfish piece of shit and go play on a Disney cruise with my family for my 10th anniversary because I really want to. We will have a lot of fun together.

It will be very relaxing and snuggly and loving.

I even got us a veranda. So we can wake up in the morning and sit outside in our PJs on our veranda above the ocean.

Because we can. Because why not? Because it’s wasteful. Everything is wasteful. I want to. I’m selfish. I’m going to.

It will be so much fun.

You just know that Noah and I will be having sex on that veranda. It’s a way of having semi-privacy on a boat.

That will be fun.

Noah wants to do this. He’s been poking at me for a while. It’s funny that he wants to do it… but really he wants me to do it. It’s not like he’s going to handle details beyond what I force him to handle.

You know what? He’s busy earning the money to fund it. I can be uhm magnanimous about the time division here. Ahem.

Noah treats me like a very expensive pet. It’s both lovely and weird.

I like it.

 

There is that

Leave a reply

I had a thought about the euphoria of my Bonus Kids. It wasn’t like that early on. I’ve been keeping them for extended periods for years. The early visits were flat out nightmares. Screaming, crying, awful. They were so hard. When they were over I would hide in a dark room with a cool cloth on my head and shake.

Now things are a lot better. Now we’ve figured out how to get along. And that feels euphoric. Now we have snuggly giggle fests full of cuddles and kisses.

When I’m comparing my first visit with a new set of kids to the experience I have after years of work with my Bonus Kids… that’s unfair to everyone involved. Maybe this experience is less euphoric because these kids have never made me suffer.

How does that play into bonding?

Yay babysitting

4 Replies

Part of what I like so much about taking care of kids is that you have to deal with different layers of your own “shit” in order to look at them as individuals. The wonderful kids who visited last night have an entirely different structure to their lives compared to most of the kids we hang out with and as a result it was neat seeing some of the social differences.

These kids… respect authority. Holy shit. And they are capable of sitting still and focusing. Whoa. Unschoolers that I know are capable of intense focus but it’s kind of random when it happens. It is an accident rather than how they approach most problems. These kids sit down and do an activity to completion then do another activity to completion. They aren’t hummingbirds.

I think it is good for my children to learn how to deal with this very different attitude towards life. The kids who visited last night are being socialized such that they will be capable of being successful in a school environment. They show me some of the layers of why I think I would fail at teaching my children how to be successful in that environment.

Hell, these kids have a better attention span than me.

And I could assume that they just aren’t comfortable enough to be sassy yet (probably partially true) but I think it is mostly true that they just aren’t permitted to be assholes in the way I let my kids get away with pushing boundaries. I see layers of learned behaviors that I couldn’t even begin to duplicate. These kids are not rule breakers in the same way. I don’t think they’ve been told that breaking rules is part of life. *Ahem*. (I won’t tell them.)

I think I uhhh disrupted the social order enough by telling them that actually, yes men can be queens too. Doesn’t matter if you’ve heard of it before, I’ve met some.

I will barely wave my gender-freak flag. Just a little bit. A tiny bit. Just barely a wave. No, boys don’t have to be one way and girls don’t have to be another way. Uhhhh Forget-That. (Which is way better than Fuck That to my friend’s children because boy howdy are they not allowed to talk like that. I was good!)

It is very hard to be a good example when these children need to turn out in a way that I completely failed at. The life they are leading is a life I am singularly unqualified to be a good example of living. I fail. Over and over at school after school. I don’t know how in the hell to handle that social dynamic. I hate jumping through hoops just for the sake of jumping. I get very angry with busy work. It’s taken multiple decades to squash my rage over being bitched out because I was “doing art wrong” and it’s hard for me even now to do group art activities.

I have finally learned how to make art for myself. I still can’t bear to have anyone in control of what or how I am doing my art because I’m fucking tired of being told I’m doing it wrong.

These kids are a challenge to me because I have to manufacture behavior I have specifically rejected. Oh shit. I have to watch my fucking mouth. Which is obviously not something I enjoy doing. But I do it for them because they would be in a lot of trouble if they picked up my language. That’s not fair. My kids don’t really get in trouble for saying fuck. So they do sometimes. I can’t slip in front of these kids because they would get no end of trouble and that’s just shitty and awful. I don’t want to be a bad influence for them.

I want to be a good influence. And that means consciously choosing behavior that is opposite of my normal priorities.

Weird.

I think this is part of what being community means. We don’t have to be exactly alike. We don’t have to be on exactly the same path. We are very different and that’s ok because it takes all kinds. Being these different ways involves different skill sets so we don’t act very similarly day-to-day and that’s ok.

It might even be optimal and make the world a better place or some shit.

I talk to my kids about the fact that I am a stay at home mom because *I* want to do it. Because *I* have things to learn here that I won’t learn in other environments–about patience, forgiveness, trying and failing, and attachment. Those aren’t lessons other people need to learn at the same time in their lives so staying home is NOT the right path for every mother.

They are very curious how the dynamics work in other families and I’m really grateful we are being allowed this window into how it works. I don’t pretend we understand from one night of visiting…. but we got a peek.

These kids are different from my bonus kids. The only people who got into trouble for screaming last night were my progeny. Because we are so fucking loud all the fucking time. Ahhh, I’m so proud. These borrowed kids…. would not be permitted to be loud like that. They looked a little stunned by the volume. We did work on it. I’m so sorry. I hope we didn’t burst your ear drums.

We really need to learn how to tone down better. It wasn’t as upsetting as it was to my niece, Jenny’s daughter, but it was… over the top. We get so excited about seeing people and then our volume just goes up. It’s not a good approach to life.

I’m starting to work with Shanna on such things and I haven’t really started working with Calli yet because I think that the easiest developmental window for dealing with the loud is 5-7 when they are doing an awareness shift, cause/effect thing in their brain. Clearly it could be taught much younger. But you sacrifice other benefits if you squash this young.

I want kids who are capable of being as aggressive as they need to be. You can’t develop that later if it is squashed out of you young. You also can’t be very good in a school environment while young if it isn’t squashed out of you. Life is complicated.

I say you “can’t” and that’s bullshit. Lots of people learn how to be more aggressive as adults because they have to do it. I would prefer if my kids just have that force of personality from the get-go.

I asked Shanna why she is so good at knowing that other peoples feelings aren’t her fault and she laughed. She said that I taught her. I laughed and said that is funny because I’m not very good at actually believing that. She said, “I’ve noticed. You should work on that.” I said I was not very good at listening to my own advice. She said, “You know, you should listen to you. You are a pretty smart lady.”

I started crying and she hugged me. I don’t know if she is 6 or 26 sometimes. I’m very grateful for these children I have born. They make every day a pleasure and a joy. Even when they bug the shit out of me.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to deepen our relationship with these kids. I’m afraid I didn’t reach out as much to them as I wanted to. My back hurts wicked bad and I spent part of the visit lying on the ground trying not to cry. That sucked. I am going to call local chiropractors on Monday. I’d like to not be hurting like this before the trip. It would be very hard to do the work.

The older girl plays with my two very easily. I’m going to have to work harder on finding games and activities for the two youngest (my youngest and the borrowed youngest) because they aren’t figuring out friendship as easily. The two oldest and Calli are all bossy, pushy kids. The other younger girl is… just not. She’s not “LOOK AT ME” in the same way. I’m going to have to work really hard at getting to know her over the years because she doesn’t shove her personality in everyone’s face and say, “NOW LOOK AT ME” the way the others do. I will have to decide to work at getting to know her. I only know her a little at this point and I feel kind of ashamed of that. Maybe I should have asked to hold her more as a baby. I don’t like asking to hold babies. I feel presumptuous. I take offers. I help when people need help. This mama is very competent when she has her kids so I would never presume to snatch her babies from her. So I didn’t bond as young with this kid.

That’s ok. We aren’t dead yet. There is still time. She’s a nice kid, just a lot more shy and reserved. That personality type isn’t really my specialty but I am always in the market for new skills. I’ll figure something out. It will be something that will require thought is all.

They have much better manners than my kids and they can sit still. It’s a bit dreamy. They sat in a chair for a meal without needing to be pestered.

swoon

I have some parenting envy right now. HOW DID YOU DO THAT?! But to some degree I understand part of how it was done and it was done in a package with stuff I don’t want and so… I have to deal with some behaviors I don’t like as much because I get so much that I do like. That’s life. I can live with the end of the stick I’m carrying these days.

I don’t feel like I have the short end of the stick any more. Not that I think this mama does. Maybe that’s a bad metaphor. Uhm, I don’t feel like I’m parenting all wrong because my kids are much more annoying than these kids. I feel like I have very different goals. I don’t think that my goals mean my kids will be “more successful” or “happier” or “fill in the blank”. Well… I think my goals are aligned with creating people I can live with. That means very weirdly attuned to the world. It doesn’t mean better. It means better-for-me which is SO MUCH not “BETTER”. If you know what I mean. It wouldn’t work for everyone.

I like these kids and I can see how their mom is doing a good job of preparing them for the life they lead. They are learning the skills that will allow them to do the things their parents want for them. It’s really neat to watch. It is fascinating having that next to my kids for a day. We want different things and that’s very ok. It’s good. It’s wonderful. It is how the world should work.

The world requires folks like their parents. IT workers and engineers. They are important. They build things and keep things up and running so other people can get the health care they need. Those are real skills that are actually impacting the world. In order to get to such a point you have to have a whole framework of skills… I pretty much lack.

Starting with the sitting still. That’s been a problem for me all my damn life. I can’t teach it to my kids because I haven’t mastered it. I can’t model it. Sometimes I feel kind of ashamed of myself when I deal with five year olds who can sit still and I just fucking can’t.

I try to just feel happy that their mother is past the horror of car seats. I too will someday arrive at the coveted world of booster seats.

I hope.

Please, oh god, oh god.

It is hard feeling like you are doing the right thing. Especially when everyone around you is on a different path. It is hard to see what the path even is. The path I want to be on includes community building. Which means figuring out having community members who aren’t friends. It means supporting my friends. It means figuring out how to support people in gaining skills they need that I do not have. It means being supportive of all different kinds of ways of handling situations.

It’s hard. Because I’m really a judgmental asshole and I have these kneejerk, “I couldn’t sustain that” feelings about behaviors and then I want to loudly comment on how they aren’t sustainable. When really they aren’t sustainable for me and other people don’t have a problem. That’s kind of embarrassing to announce out loud. (Ask me how I know. Or don’t. Just assume it is an embarrassing story, ok?)

If my back pain were below a 4 I would feel like I was having a party. My back pain is hanging out this minute around a 6 and yesterday was up to 7/8 so I didn’t feel like I was having a party. I didn’t feel like I was having that much fun. But it went really well anyway. I tried hard to be aware that my cloud of “ugh” was pain.

Also, my period finally started. Only a measly 7 days later than expected. And it is slow going this month. Hardly anything is coming out of me and that’s kind of weird. At 36 hours into my period this time I’ve lost about as much blood as I usually lose in the first 6 hours. I know because of how fast I soak the pads.

I haven’t been able to eat much lately. And most of what I can eat without feeling really sick is fruit and vegetables. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH MY BODY?!?!?! THIS IS NOT LIKE ME. I’ve been a carbitarian for most of my life. I live on wheat, meat, and dairy. Those are my three main food groups. I grudgingly eat vegetables because I have to and I rarely eat fruit. I just…. don’t really do it. The textures bug me.

Until now. When dinner is artichoke and orange. Or strawberries and fennel. I ate fucking strawberries and fennel for dinner. What the motherfuck is wrong with me?!

I’m not feeling ok. I’m eating what I’m craving because if my body is craving fruits and vegetables after 30+ years of treating them like poison… ok I’ll go along with this but I don’t feel ok. And my digestive system is so fucking whacked. I’m barely pooping because there isn’t enough mass to move. I can feel my system feeling pissed off at me.

I’m eating what I can eat. It’s just not a lot right now. I feel like I’m dropping weight again. I might actually buy a scale just because I feel like it is bad to not know when I’m doing these sudden intense weight drops. I feel like I should “work harder” at keeping my weight stable and I don’t know what that would mean.

I’ve never had a not-eating-month in the spring before. It’s always October. It’s usually around my dad’s suicide. I have always thought it was partially emotional and partly that I don’t handle that weather transition well. October is the most miserable month weather wise where I live. This year the weather is awful in spring…. maybe the weather transition impacts it?

I don’t know. But I’m eating like a fucking vegan and this isn’t working for me.

I feel like shit.

(Not saying veganism is bad or that no one should be vegan. I have nutritional issues. It would be very hard for *me* to be a healthy vegan given the texture issues I have and aversions to some flavors.)

You have to deal with the whole system you have. Even if it is annoying. One of the things I feel most comfortable about as I get older–life is annoying and that’s ok. Just breathe through it.

I went to Outrageous Outgrowns yesterday morning before the folks arrived. I was actually tardy getting home because the line was insane. Good thing Noah was here. I would have timed differently if I hadn’t had the slack.

The girls are mostly set on dresses through size 10 now. Yee haw. And I got a whole huge stack of neat looking books. Yay! If you can get 20 items of clothing and 30+ books for $200 that’s a good shopping day. Especially because most of the items of clothing were fancy dresses because that’s what my kids live in. I really got the daughters of my dreams. I wanted to dress like that as a kid and I couldn’t. I’m very grateful I can buy them a closet full of fancy $5 dresses they can wear any way they want without getting in trouble. That’s a special kind of privilege.

And legging. Always leggings because you little twerps never keep your legs down. Under clothes should be under your clothes and if you can’t keep your skirt down, pants! Yay!

Then I got home to a box from Amazon. Because I’ve been on a book buying spree. All multi-cultural stuff. In the past few weeks I have picked up a bunch of books on Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism for kids. I already have Christian stuff aimed at kids because I had it from my childhood. Books on mindfulness and meditation and Zen and all that good stuff.

I will be reviewing them on the kid-friendly blog because most of them are excellent. I’ve perused them all but I haven’t shared them with the kids yet. I’m excited about reading these together.

I’ve gotta say, it’s convenient that there is a Hindu temple on the corner because the more I read about the faith the more it actually sounds the closest to the hodge-podge of my beliefs. It’s kind of funny. I should go more often. They are happy to have sincere visitors of any stripe.

These kids do not provide the euphoria of my Bonus Kids. That’s partially my fault. I spent a lot of time holding my Bonus Kids when they were really tiny because I went over to their house and helped their mom do work. That creates a very different kind of bond.

These kids instead provide a different kind of opportunity. I missed the window to get in on the baby-bonding. I didn’t understand that I was missing it. I didn’t understand how I should have tried to assert myself. The oldest girl is older than my kids and I really didn’t have the confidence to assert myself as “someone who should hold babies” then. That doesn’t mean all hope is lost! Hey, I’m good friends with their mom and I met her as an adult. Clearly the possibility of a relationship isn’t over.

But it is interesting seeing how I will have to work for these relationships. I will. I want to. It is a specific thing I have as a goal in this lifetime. I knew when they were born that these were kids I wanted to know for a long time. I just didn’t know how to insert myself into their life. That is hard.

I have learned from this visit that I am not who I want to be to these kids yet. I will have to work harder. Good thing I know how to work hard.

The visit has gone very well. I hope this is a sign of many wonderful visits to come. We are a long way from grown up. There is a lot of time left to bond before they run off to the wonders of their own lives. I haven’t missed the window yet. But I better not get snotty about that belief or I will miss the window.

Thank you so much for the gift of time with your children.

Appreciate

Leave a reply

This will be incomplete, sorry.

I’m grateful Pam is currently in a phase where she can come over so often. It feels very good to me. She can kick me for writing about how I don’t have friends. Obviously the problem is my perception and not reality.

I’m grateful that S sent me an email saying we had plans this weekend. I need to get more diligent about writing everything down THE SECOND it happens because pot is wrecking my short term memory. I’m really happy I will get to see you soon. It is always so lovely. This on top of coming camping. I’m looking forward to a little time this weekend and way more time next weekend. I feel very lucky.

P might go camping with us. I’ve been told multiple times that she will and she doesn’t have as many health problems or work conflicts as some of my friends so it is still a high chance. This is very exciting. It is a chance to make her laugh. Getting P to really full on belly laugh is hard–she’s kind of a serious person. But sometimes I’m sitting nearby when Noah says something funny and I get to watch her laugh and laugh. It feels so nice.

R is also coming camping. R is someone I vaguely kinda sorta knew in middle school but we weren’t friends. Then re-met as adults. We don’t see one another very often but I always leave communal time feeling like the world is a better place than I want to believe. She is just hopeful in a way I don’t deal with very often. I’m really looking forward to my kids getting to hang out with her during camping.

Really, all three chicas who are camping are super-kid-awesome.

M has been making sure she checks in with emails and comments even though I’m not very good at responding. Her comments remind me that there are all kinds of people walking all kinds of roads and even when they can’t walk near me on my road they want me to keep walking. It makes them want to keep walking.

I’m going to go see M in Minnesota! I’m super excited. She was my internet girlfriend. I think she is fabulous. I met her through an online support forum and we talked and talked and talked in the midst of one of my hard periods. I’m really looking forward to meeting her kids.

D is trusting me with her children this weekend. That feels like an honor and a privilege. You trust me. You have known me for a long time and you still want to know me. Even though I surely say things that bug you. You keep coming around. You went to Hawaii with me. Sometimes when I think about you I can’t figure out why you want to be friends with a nothing like me. But I’m really grateful you do.

K lent me her kids recently. Oh my heart overflows with love. Part of what I learn from K is how to be patient with things I’m just not fucking patient with. She has very different patience than me. Not more… different. She is good at a lot of tasks I can’t manage because I quit when it gets hard. I feel like I don’t have good excuses to get my shit done when I talk to her. Which is funny… because I don’t think she views herself that way.

J keeps trying even when things are hard. Sometimes having people who are prickly spend time together is complicated. How can we walk along without stabbing one another on accident? But we keep trying because the effort is worth it.

I am hard. I get these surges of emotions and I talk about things in extreme hyperbole. I will NEVER have friends. I will NEVER be loved. Bah. What horse shit.

I was talking to Pam and she said she felt peeved (just a little) at some of my ranting about stuff. She tries to be understanding because she knows I have perspective sometimes and sometimes I just… don’t. Sometimes I can’t see. Luckily she’s not too annoyed with me. (*phew*)

This is part of that “What I feel this minute is what I feel every minute” thing. It’s not true, but it is how my awareness tends to work. I argue with this awareness and perception but it’s tricky. It’s complicated. I’m trying to get better. I am better than I was.

It is very hard to believe that where I am right now is “enough” progress for 33. I know I am not where I want to be. I hate the places where I am still delayed.

I appreciate my neighbors. I appreciate that they talk to me even though I’m emotive and flakey and difficult. I disappear into my backyard and don’t come out for months. When I resurface they make fun of me and tell me they thought I moved. But they say it with a smile. And if I stay inside toooooooo long they come knocking.

I really appreciate that they come knocking.

My shrink pisses me the fuck off and I am so grateful for her presence in my life. She is frustrating in ways I have to work through. I don’t do well with folks in her sort of general position in my life. I hate people who have authority over me.

I want them. I love them. I crave being in a subservient/taken care of role… and I’m fucking nasty to anyone on the other side.

t&T decided that since I need people to be stable they can find a way to be stable enough. It is such an unexpected gift. I have them calendared for a year in advance. Illness gets in the way and not much else.

I have dozens of other people who are less frequently present. I could not begin to name them all. These are the folks who are popping up this month.

I do see the people who are nice to me. I do. I appreciate the kindness I receive. There are days when I can’t see it and that’s not because of the folks around me.

It is very hard dealing with my inability to perceive what I need to perceive.

Leveling off

Leave a reply

I’m crying less. The rate is slowing down dramatically. I feel less “activated” than I did. I’m reaching a point of resolution. It feels like I go through a grieving process when I find out that my expectations are inappropriately set. It’s not anyone else’s fault, I just don’t… let go of my ideals very easily.

I want to love people so much. I want people to love me. It doesn’t always work out and that’s very hard. My basic reaction to not feeling loved is to flail and whack anyone nearby… decreasing the likelihood that people will love me. It’s my fault, really.

But there are people who love me. They sometimes need to have very specific boundaries with me to prevent me from hurting them–that’s appropriate and good. I don’t want to hurt people and sometimes I am literally incapable of seeing what I’m doing wrong that hurts people so much. I’m grateful when people protect themselves so that I don’t damage them on accident.

But that’s not fair. I should stop hurting people.

I try. I’m better than I was.

I need to protect myself too. People aren’t necessarily trying to hurt me on purpose, it just happens. It helps that I’m wicked sensitive in areas that people don’t expect. I’m fairly unusual in how many things bother me. It’s easy to hurt me.

I don’t hold grudges against people for whacking me on accident, why do I assume that everyone else holds them against me? I don’t know.

Because I believe I deserve hatred and dislike and no love. Pretty much.

I’m not mad at the kid who kicked me. He fucked up. I’m mad at the adults who should know better. That’s complicated and hard. It isn’t fair. It doesn’t feel right. It feels like there is no right. It’s not ok to be super angry at the kid who fucked up (he’s 9… I give kids slack) and it doesn’t even feel ok to be angry with the adults who fucked up. But I am.

Am I angry or am I hurt? Hurt sure looks like angry when it comes to my behavior. Does it ultimately matter? I’m not sure. Only if I do something awful.

Have I done something awful? I process my feelings publicly. I don’t think I’m dragging people over the coals. I’m talking about my feelings. I’m saying I’m angry. Is that awful? I really don’t know.

But spending several days at home with my family has been wonderful. I like being around these people. They make me feel like it is ok that I am alive because they want me here very badly. The whole world would be darker for them without me.

And I do have friends. Even though not everyone is capable of being my friend I have many friends. I should not punish people for not being up to the ridiculous number of hoops I put in front of people.

I put a lot of hurdles in front of my friends. You have to want me. You have to actually get something you really want to have from this world from me or it really isn’t worth putting up with my shit.

I have mixed feelings about being this kind of difficult. On one hand it sure thins the stream of people who can handle me. On the other hand… that’s on purpose. It really should thin the stream. I can’t handle 7 billion people anyway. The stream must be culled.

It’s ok that I’m not for everyone. I don’t want to be the taste of some of the people who reject me. I would no longer like myself if they started liking me, and that’s ok.

Life is complicated. You never know who will stick around. Who will come back. Who will be devoted for reasons passing understanding.

You just do the best you can. If it isn’t good enough… life works that way. Sometimes someones best is genuinely not good enough. For example: the reactions of the folks in charge of the response for Hurricane Katrina. Their best was not good enough to really take care of the people under their care. Is it their fault? Boy we could argue that all day long.

Sometimes doing the best you can means lots of people will suffer or die. Life is really complicated.

I feel grateful in an ongoing way that I live in a very small pond. I can potentially inflict some emotional damage on people… but it’s of a very limited scope. I can’t wreck peoples lives. I can’t kill people. I can’t end life-as-people-know-it because I don’t have enough power.

I think that is positive.

I feel grateful every single day that I open the fridge and see a bunch of food. That’s as much power as I want to have in this world. The power to keep me and mine well fed. Any friends who want to come over are welcome–we have plenty. We love you and want to feed you.

Life is complicated. Even though I have big feelings I know I am very lucky to be where I am.

Bitch-tastic

2 Replies

I did something in therapy I don’t usually do. My therapist was explaining why some inter-personal stuff might go the way it does and I cut her off. I said, “I am not interested in paying to hear you defend that point of view right now.”

She looked shocked.

There are things where I must “face reality” in order to make progress with my mental illness stuff. There are also big piles of things that if you tell me over and over “That’s just how it is” that I will leave therapy and not pick my kids up and instead drive straight to the edge of the ocean. Because I can’t fix things and I can’t make it better and it is shit. Let’s not do that in therapy, ok?!

I “get” that people are allowed to want to be part of a community with me without being my friend. I don’t need to pay you to tell me in great detail how spending a lot of time with me for years does not mean that people will want to be my friend. I already fucking know that.

What I need are more ways of telling in advance which people aren’t my friend so I stop asking them for support. You aren’t telling me that, you are just telling me that I can’t ask people who aren’t my friends for support. But you aren’t telling me how I can tell which people are my friends and which people are standing near me because anything is better than being home alone.

You just say, “That’s what happens when you ask for support from people who aren’t actually part of your support network.”

HOW IN THE FUCK DO YOU LEARN HOW TO TELL WHO YOUR SUPPORT NETWORK IS?!!?!?

As time goes on it becomes very clear that my therapist thinks I have three people in my support network and it is inappropriate to ask children for support so I have one. Stop asking anyone for anything.

BUT THEN ON OTHER WEEKS SHE CHIDES ME FOR NOT ASKING MY FRIENDS FOR MORE HELP.

Oh fuck everything in the universe.

“They are your friends because they want to be. You should trust them and rely on them.”

“Well you shouldn’t ask people who aren’t your friends to do anything for you. That never works out.”

Well, I’ve never had anyone ask me for a laminated “Krissy’s Friend” card so that I know forever more that they are in the club and safe to ask. I just have to fucking ask and deal with a lot of rejection.

I do poorly with asking people who *I* think are my friends for help when they don’t think they are my friends. I do great with asking total strangers for help. It’s… kind of funny how well it goes.

She thinks I need to work harder on having an “inner circle” that is my family and support network without looking out into the world for friends or support.

I’ve spent my life not having a family so every person I meet is potentially a surrogate family member and it is part of why I latch on so hard and so inappropriately and why I have so many problems. People don’t want the intensity of a fucked up limpet in their life.

I go back and forth between bitterly thinking that people only want to know me if I do things for them and having to quietly acknowledge to myself that it is righteously not true for most of the people who have been good friends over the years.

I have this problem. I want to be ALL anger all the time. But I actually have a good life these days. It isn’t justified or warranted or… appropriate. I’m not that angry any more. I’m still angry about some things though. I’m having trouble taking those pieces as separate units.

I want to be all anger all the time but then I think, “Well so and so did… and that person did… and other friend did…. I’m sorry I’m such a petty and ungrateful bastard.”

(This is choppy because all of that was written in one day and then I didn’t hit post and I get kind of weird about that. So the next bit may or may not fit in tone.)

Why do these designations matter so much? I’ve been fighting this fight for more than 15 years. Why do I care so much about the label? I don’t actually care about the label. I care about what behavior I can engage in without punishment or suffering and I don’t know a better way to judge people other than by the labels.

This was ironic yesterday. I was talking to Calli. She was talking about an issue with a kid. I said, “Well, if you want them to be your friend you have to forgive them for making mistakes. Every person who is alive makes mistakes. That has to be ok or you will run out of people to be friends with.”

Am I booting someone from the friendship circle because she said something in a way I didn’t like? Hypocrite much?

I don’t think I am booting her from the friendship circle. I’m understanding that I can’t expect support I won’t get. Is that the same thing? It feels very middle school and hysterical. I’m trying to figure out what is and isn’t appropriate kinds of support to ask for and with whom.

Is that hysterical? Is that hyperbole? Is that punishing people for being less than perfect?

I don’t know.

What I do know is that after 7 months of back and forth my contracting company still can’t get it together and at every step of the way they have told me that the delays are all my fault. (Even though the project manager went to Israel for a month.) I’m going to pay for the plans for the remodel and find a different company after the road trip. At this point they wouldn’t even be able to get properly started on construction before I leave so uhm… no.

More stress. Yay!

There are lots of situations in my life where I don’t know what to do. An asshole project manager… I can fire.

Back to the real topic though: it would be a lot easier if I felt angry over the current situations in my life. I feel less anger than I feel hurt. I feel betrayed. I feel like I was stupid for believing that someone cared about me more than they do. I feel like I deserve to be kicked for being stupid enough to believe that someone would care enough about me to think I don’t deserve to be kicked in the throat.

Complicated circles of “logic” in there.

I really like this person. I have for many years. I feel sad that I am not liked as much in return. And I have no control over that.

I like the Godmama too. Can’t do anything about that situation either.

I like Anna. Can’t fix that.

I feel sad.

Sometimes I think my shrink is very weird. She is … an interesting mix of Eastern practices and Western. (She lived in Thailand for 7 years and goes back for extended periods every year.) (I tell my kids “Things that seem weird are just things you haven’t grown accustomed to yet. Somebody thinks it is normal.”)

I think she is weird because she wants to use a lot of Eastern lifestyle attributes and she thinks that will lead to the same results with people who are otherwise thoroughly Western.

For example: she doesn’t think families need to talk very often. She’s very isolationist and interested in people being alone a lot. She lives alone. She specializes in severe trauma and she tells us to not have contact with our families if they are problems (good thing and all) but then she wants us to go do meditation classes to feel connected.

That just seems fucking weird to me. She doesn’t encourage human connection very much. It is hard to arrange. Hard to make safe. Hard to control. But she really wants you to feel connected to the universe.

It’s like…. it’s like as if we airlifted a huge shipment of individual game playing devices with headsets into a remote tribal village and then got excited because we got them all “connected” only now no one talks to one another anymore.

I don’t know. I’ve spent a lot of years reading about the Amish approach to technology because I find it fascinating. They aren’t anti-ALL technology. Just the stuff that will cause the community to be less united.

I can comprehend why people would make such choices.

I don’t understand how silent group meditation with strangers is going to solve my attachment problems. She claims this is because I haven’t tried it enough. People also claimed that I wouldn’t understand “runners high” until I seriously ran. A marathon and several half marathons and goodness knows how many shorter runs later…. I don’t get it.

I think this is one of those things where someone will tell me that it is the solution to my problems and then they badger me for years and then I do it and I’m disappointed and they say, “Well you didn’t try hard enough!” This sounds like Weight Watchers. This sounds like fuck you very much.

Although I’ve got to say: I was skeptical about the grief ritual. But a grief ritual where it is appropriate for me to cry, scream, and beat on the floor as much as I want to get my feelings out is different from a space where I have to sit silently and not bother anyone. How is that fucking different from most of my life?

I’m not saying I’m good at not bothering people. Just that it is what I’m supposed to be doing.

It occurred to me that my social problems would be a lot easier if I liked people less. Rather than obsessively chasing the meditation program of my dreams, maybe I should find a way to like people less. It isn’t going that well for me to fall this hard into love. It isn’t appropriate.

I’m really sad. I thought I was investing in a circle of people who might help sustain me over the years. I was wrong. I hate it when I’m that wrong.

It’s a group that will hang out together as long as it is non-effortful for the folks involved. When it gets hard they are done. This is weird to me because going has been hard since day one. I have always had to try hard to carve out space and room for these people. It has always been work.

I feel so wildly uncomfortable. I feel like people are going to hate me and betray me and…

Leaving my house is hard. Full stop. Going to events is hard. I feel afraid so much of the time. Getting over the hurdle only to find out I was stupid for doing so is hard.

I think that part of what scares me so much is that having just Noah as my designated support person isn’t fair for him at all. I have to be careful how I load Noah. He’s already doing far too much. When he’s overloaded at work I can go weeks without talking to him about anything personal because I don’t think it is fair to burden him. And he’s the only person I’m supposed to talk to.

I shoved K into the support role until it overwhelmed her. (Totally reasonable.)

Then I was trying to cobble together a semblance of feeling seen…

Now I’ll stay home. It is weird looking at my calendar until the trip. I pretty much wiped it. We are normally very busy. And I just can’t right now. When Pam gets busy I can go weeks without seeing anyone who is a friend.

We are going camping with folks. I hope. I pray. If it falls through man I’m going to be sad. One way or another I’m going camping with my kids. Even if no one wants to go with me.

I am grateful every day for my kids. I am completely sure I would be done without them.

Yesterday I was riding in the car with Shanna and I was… I don’t know what I was saying. She piped up with, “Mom, I feel like you’ve been saying a lot of negative things about me lately. I need you to say positive things too.”

What would it be like to be able to turn to people and say that you need to hear positive things about yourself and actually believe them?

(Shanna felt pretty good about herself when I was done.)

My shrink believes I have a very strong sense of self. I think that is a funny concept. I know that I have strong reactions to things but I don’t think I have a strong self. I don’t have much of a way to define me. I can list off things I “do” but I don’t really understand what I “am”. I’ve struggled with this for a long time.

If you ask me about me I’ll talk about books and dancing and travel and sex. None of those things are me. They are things that I do.

I’m pissy that Hillary Clinton identifies herself first as a wife and mother. Like the fucking rest of her life isn’t uhm equally as significant. SECRETARY OF DEFENSE COMES AFTER?! Men don’t do that shit.

I told my shrink that at least my “self” isn’t wife and mother. She said, “Yes, “at least” that isn’t your self-perception.”

You shouldn’t be defined based on who and what you are to other people either.

But then what are people if they are not their roles and actions? I don’t know. Thus why I do so much navel gazing.

Trauma recovery

2 Replies

I’m going through a trauma recovery workbook.  I’m probably going to read it six times. On page 47 it says,

Characteristics of Traumatic Relationships: Betrayal occurs at the hands of a trusted caregiver or supporter.

How Helping Relationships Can Re-Traumatize Youth: Youth feel betrayed by the organization, program, or provider.

Characteristics of Traumatic Relationships: Reality is reconstructed to represent the values and beliefs of the abuser./ Events are reinterpreted and renamed to protect the guilty.

How Helping Relationships Can Re-Traumatize Youth: Reality is reconstructed to match the needs and values of the provider or agency, not the youth.

 

I have feels. I’m not a youth any more. I don’t deserve to be centered any more. But these parts of me are still broken.

“In order to protect themselves, consciously or not, many youth act out to speed up the rejection that they are convinced is coming anyway.”

Like talking about the Godmamas being on their way out and then I got a nasty fuck you letter because I had talked about their attitude in a way they didn’t like. Like that. I do that. I do that a lot.

“If we don’t exit/punish youth when they break the rules, aren’t we enabling them? No. When a youth that is highly impacted by past trauma is exited, what is the lesson? Although providers may believe youth are learning they can’t write on walls or disrespect providers, mostly providers are just confirming a youth’s belief that they are unlovable and undeserving of attention and support. It is not suggested that agencies and providers ignore inappropriate behavior. Instead, it is recommended that providers work with youth to identify problematic behavior, put it in the context of trauma, and help youth find different ways to express anger, frustration, or sadness. The goal is for youth to know that providers can see far beyond the problem behavior, and see the youth’s capabilities and potential to succeed.”

Feelings. What is my fault? What isn’t my fault? What should I be punished for? What shouldn’t I be punished for?

I don’t really know.

Reading stuff like this reminds me of when I was teaching. I was very good at working with gang kids because when they walked in angry… I assumed it had nothing to do with me and I offered support instead of punishment. What happened? Why are you so upset? It must be something awful; this isn’t like you. Then they will crumble into a ball of tears because the anger was just an attempt to hold it together.

People want to be seen so badly. It’s not just me.

Most of the people who try really hard to seem tough are people who have been beaten down. Life is really hard.

I’ve talked to several former students in the past few days. I ran into one at the convention. We were very happy to see one another.

I don’t fuck everything up. I fuck things up when my boundaries get muddy. When I want too much. When I’m too needy. When I ask for help or love or support that I know I have no hope of getting. Because I really don’t matter that much.

Need a new box

Leave a reply

In my head I tend to classify how much I can ask from people. There are some people I can ask a lot from and some people… not so much. There are some people who can provide physical support but no emotional support and there are some people who can provide emotional support via the computer but they really can’t take being in a room with me.

I’ve learned how to have space in my life for people having the kind of relationship with me they can handle having. I’m trying to not beat myself up over these limits that other people have. The limits aren’t about me. Life is complicated for everyone and I’m kind of like a hurricane in motion sometimes. I know that I overwhelm people. I’m much better at containing it than I used to be.

I need a new box for relationships. I touched on this yesterday and then didn’t follow up on it, not really. Community members. It’s not the same as acquaintance and it sure isn’t friend.

For a while I was good, emotionally, at partitioning the home school group people. I’m not there to make friends for me. I’m there so my kids can grow up around people.

I haven’t been good at it for a while. I culled a few people and tried to shove them into the friend bucket and I’m afraid I shot myself in the foot.

I expected things I had no right to expect. That’s going to hurt me over and over and over. Of course the group exists to perpetuate itself at the expense of individual members. Duh. That’s how systems work. I shouldn’t have believed that I… was anything other than a cog in the system. Cogs aren’t protected. Cogs are replaceable.

There has to be space for community members. I can’t ask them for anything. But they have stood near me for years and that means they think they know me. Mostly… not so much. They don’t want to know me. If they get to know me, if I try to befriend them… it will end in them not talking to me any more.

This is not my first rodeo.

I’m going to keep burning whatever bridges I burn with writing. It keeps me from cutting. I talk to Noah about the stuff I really can’t write about.

I’m not as alone as I feel. Things have improved. Things are better. I need to stop expecting people to care about me and be ok with nodding from the far side of the park.

That’s what people want.

More definitions

2 Replies

I’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between family, chosen family, friends, acquaintances, and community members.

A lot of my interpersonal difficulties happen because I am seeking surrogate family replacements and attempting to shoehorn people into such a role when they are really not agreeing. I’ve got transference issues up the wazoo.

I have noticed over the past few years a weird phenomena in the bdsm community. I’ve been hanging out there since I was 18. Some of the folks I knew there I haven’t talked to much since I started teaching–really most of the community. I rarely touch base there any more. I don’t have the baby sitting to go hang out there and it just isn’t a big priority.

Anyway, a weird phenomena, folks are really happy to see me even if the last time we saw one another… we didn’t get along that well. People don’t remember the friction and the difficulty of putting up with me if I go away for a while.

I thought all of those people were gone from my life and that they hated me and I should consider myself dead to them. I’m kind of self-centered like that. (I’ve been reading a workbook on helping teenagers deal with trauma recovery because a friend is taking a graduate school course and she shared. It’s hilarious how textbook I am, still.)

I’m not really as mad at the people in the group as I think I am. I’m mad at my parents. I’m mad at my family and I’m having transference and projecting issues all over the place. I mean… I am upset. This situation is sucking for me, but it’s a lot of things sucking at once. It’s not this thing. Not really.

See, here I go with the mollifying, please don’t hate me for having big feelings shit.

Building resilience “how to” tip: avoid seeing crises as insurmountable problems. (From the above link.)

But but…

It’s all or nothing. How I feel right now is how I have felt for all time. What the fuck dude? You mean THIS ISN’T THE END?!?!

Fuck you and all that.

Well, I’m going to run away from home for a while. I’m not being avoidant. I’m being adventurous! (Ha. It’s all in the spin.)

Then I’ll come back. And we’ll see how scorched the bridges are.

I get really fucking mad. And I rant like fuck in my blog. But I don’t really talk about it in real life (other than with Noah, that poor guy) so either my big feelings are ok or they aren’t.

I’m definitely an opt-in experience. I am not a mandatory part of life. I’m easy to avoid. I make it as easy as I possibly can.

Holy shit I’m having big feelings. So many feelings. Oh god.

Such an asshole

Leave a reply

In an effort to try and feel less obsessed with my own shittiness I’m spending time on my support forum. It isn’t that they are all nice to me (holy shit they aren’t) and it isn’t that they are all on my side (holy shit they aren’t) but… they understand why I’m flipping out how I’m flipping out. And they flip out in the same ways. So we can nod sagely at one another as we hit low points.

At any moment in time on the site there are people who are up and down the ladder from you in terms of functionality and symptoms. It’s like a trout to the face. “Here mofo–let me give you some perspective.”

Perspective helps me a lot.

At any moment in time there are people who are homeless because they are like me only slightly less controlled. Not severely less controlled… it’s a slight difference. I’m not a LOT better than them at controlling my issues. Just some. Privilege helps a lot. Without Noah’s support I wouldn’t be doing as well as I am. I’m reminded of that a lot.

Even if I don’t have all the support I want… even if I don’t have all the support I “need” in some existential way… I’m doing a lot better than I could be. Be grateful for that. My problems these days are quite tractable in the scheme of things.

I am very lucky. My problems cause me to feel emotionally like a trapped child…. but that doesn’t mean I am one. Instead I’m a very blessed adult. I have friends. I have support. I even have a family. Even if I don’t feel like I do. Even if I feel like a disposable piece of shit… I’m not.

Thank you for the boost.

Leave a reply

My friend sent me an email. Apparently my Bonus Kid is having an easier time following along with parental direction after spending time with me. The papa says I should put together a seminar or a dvd. Ha.

Thank you for telling me that I don’t do everything wrong.

I feel like a fucking ping-pong ball emotionally.

Slow week. Thank goodness.

Leave a reply

We see friends on Friday. We don’t see friends till then. I think this is very good. I think this is very important.

There gets to be a point where my skin is so thin that if someone breathes too hard I bruise. I’m there. It’s emotional as well as physical. My body hurts so much. My belly has been hurting for days. I am having an “IBS attack”. Horrid cramping and diarrhea and pain. That happened all weekend at the con. I had some big fucking feelings.

Watching how people act is very important. I act like a wounded animal. As a result I’m kind of unpredictable. That means I’m the problem. I understand. I’m used to that.

I’ll stay home and keep my issues to myself.

Your fucking problem you stupid bitch. Just shut up. Shut the fuck up you stupid fucking cunt.

It’s not one thing. It’s everything. I am so upset. But! At least these days my very upset is mostly limited to writing bitchy things on the internet. Really…. this isn’t even that bitchy.

I’m not saying in detail all the mean things I’m thinking. I’m suppressing them. Don’t ever fucking say I don’t have tact, motherfucker.

This right here, this is tact.

Meeting bronies was fun. I won’t be going back to that convention.

I HAVE ABOUT 389,287,927 MEAN THINGS I WANT TO SAY TO PEOPLE RIGHT NOW.

The bad thing is the list of people I want to say them to is only a few thousand names long which means I have a high density of mean things I want to say to just a few people.

But I won’t. Because I’m a grown up now. That shit has consequences. I haven’t matured, I’ve just developed a super ego.

I think it is very weird that I am so worried about consequences from people who already have given the only consequence they have to give: revocation of their regard.

I am not worthy of support or defense. My problems are mine. And if I’m too nasty because defending myself is kind of hard then I will be ostracized because I’m the problem. Not the people hitting me; Me. Not the people defending the people who hit me. I’m the problem.

Do I want such people to like me anyway? What would I have to believe about myself in order to act in a way that they would support? I would have to agree with the premise that if I am kicked in the throat I deserve it and I should apologize for it happening and I should offer to try to stay away from people in group situations because I’m the problem.

Uhm, no. That would not be good mental health.

Group cohesion over the physical safety of group members can bite my ass.

If I lose friends over having that opinion… they were never my friend. They are just somebody that I used to know.

I feel like a tremendous asshole partially because this little drama is happening off-stage for most of the group. I haven’t even talked to many people about it. I didn’t ever tell the group organizer. This is me having made a mistake about the level of support I might expect from one person. And I’m looking at running from the whole group over effectively two families. The one with the kicker and the one who told me to promise that I won’t be a problem any more.

Why do I turn that into “the group”? Why do I do that? I’m having conflict. I haven’t tried to work it out verbally since my one failed attempt. I have not really given an opening for any kind of backpedaling or attempt at any other kind of resolution.

Err, doesn’t really seem “wise” to do so.

I’m having a big problem with the fact that I simultaneously don’t feel like a victim (it was a kid fucking up–not a deliberate assault from an adult… it’s just not psychologically the same thing) and I feel like I’m being victim-blamed.

There’s a lot of transference going on, clearly. This is becoming the “situation du’jour” for me to project my abandonment issues and reenact stupid shit from my family. “They always pick the abuser.” I’ve put a noticeable amount of time into this specific set of relationships. More than I’ve put into the vast majority of people I know.

I guess… I guess I lacked the perspective to understand that this amount of time is very little and very unimportant to people who have had lives very different from mine. Time dilation is a problem for me.

I’m not reacting to right now… only I am. This weekend was very frustrating. The kids… it was a boundaries testing weekend. Those happen. Children are supposed to do that. It is how childhood is supposed to work. I have stacks of books that tell me this will happen. It was a rough weekend.

And then the hotel staff threw away a bunch of the Easter eggs. Because some of them had unwrapped jelly beans in them. I tried to get individual wrapped things of jelly beans and they wouldn’t fucking fit in the eggs. Then when I asked if I could have back the bag of eggs that weren’t hidden or given to children… the person running the hunt said, “Next year buy toys for the eggs.”

I was not very polite. “I won’t be doing anything for you next year.” She looked… pissed off and angry. But then again this is a woman I’ve known since I was 19. We’ve never gotten along. If I had understood in the very beginning that it was that (insert name) I probably wouldn’t have donated eggs in the first place. It made the hunt somewhat unfortunate. Dramatically unfortunate. The person in charge wanted to just go around and have adults collect them to throw away.

I told the kids to run. They listened to me. Luckily we had some big kids so probably at least 100 were picked up.

Next year buy toys?! And you would expect them to be themed. Which means you think I should spend $500+ on toys for people I don’t know. Bitch you are dreaming.

Quite frankly, if I’m going to spend $500 on toys for kids I don’t know… I’m not giving them to the kids who are privileged enough to have parents who bring them to a My Little Pony convention. Yeah right.

(It’s not that I’m against donating $500 to worthy causes. A bunch of spoiled kids aren’t a worthy cause.)

Yes, I’m judgmental as fuck. I can live with that.

I’m partially pissed because I buy candy that *I* will eat. Which means there’s no HFCS, it’s organic sugar. Those assholes threw away a lot of money today.

IT’S ONE MORE THING.

It’s not a “big deal”. But I won’t be going back to that convention next year. I don’t think it is the fault of the convention but I didn’t have much fun. There was a lot going on.

I’m so glad we don’t have much scheduled coming up. The “group” camping trip will probably end up being us and three friends of mine. We will have fun. I am crossing my fingers that two families can go, but I’m not holding my breath.

Maybe that needs to be how I treat “friends” from this point forward. I’ll cross my fingers but I won’t hold my breath. I will allow myself to hope (because gosh I enjoy your company) but I won’t hurt myself with hoping.

I need to be prepared to have fun anyway. I need to make this trip work.

I can’t make everything work. There are relationships I can’t salvage because our basic needs and orientations are too different. There are people I can’t spend much time with because we are both aggressive and overly sensitive at the same time. There are people who just can’t handle being around how angry I am.

Even if I am currently feeling some anger at you, I’m aware that the anger I feel towards you is a speck of sand on the beach of my rage. You aren’t really what I’m angry because of. Ok, I didn’t like that thing that time… but that thing isn’t really why I’m angry.

I’m angry for existential reasons. I’m angry because my mom told me to find a way to just get along with my brother. My mom told me not to disrupt group harmony by getting hysterical over him beating me up and trying to rape me. Just don’t be a problem, Krissy.

I’m not angry because of you. But right now you are standing near me and I am very very angry.

I want to hurt myself really badly. I want an end of these angry voices in my head. I want to beat my head until the throb is so loud I can’t hear them any more.

Krissy is the problem. It has ever been thus. My friend said today that she knows the one way to stop this pain. She’s right. There is only one way.

Today this wave isn’t enough to crest over me. Today is not the day. This isn’t that much pain. I can handle this.

And, I’ll say it: I’m a lucky person. Noah really makes up for a lot of life problems. He is so incredibly kind to me. When I can’t say nothing nice… I’m still grateful for Noah.

Noah tells me it is ok to get mad. Noah talks about the psychological underpinnings of why people must have group loyalty and why that is such a problem for freaks like us. We are the people who have been historically shunned and stoned. (And not in that fun way.) Disruptors.

We are the problem from the point of view of the group. Complaining is the problem. Getting kicked in the throat is fine. Having difficulty breathing is fine. Having trouble swallowing food for days is fine. Complaining is not ok.

This is part of why I don’t do well in social groups. I go home and write about this shit. I’m an asshole.

I want to matter. But I don’t. And it makes me hard. And that makes it even harder for me to matter to people. And it’s all my fault. Because I was the problem. If I could have found a way to not be a problem then things could have been fine. I was serving the forces of group unity.

Now I’m not. I’m trying to act like I, as an individual, am important and that’s stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

My mom couldn’t treat me like an individual. My needs weren’t seen. My needs weren’t important.

The part of me that “should” learn how to deal with people in this situation is stuck. It still thinks that people who react in this manner have the power of life and love and death over me. It isn’t true any more. But my brain is stuck. My brain doesn’t know what it should know. My brain just knows… again.

I’m really happy that I’m going to stay home for a while and meet my own needs. I sure like my home. I like the people in it. Even though the kids… well… we had an adventure together. They have to test boundaries. Some days I handle it better than other days. I was cranky anyway. It sucks for them when I don’t have extra spoons. My belly hurt all weekend and that makes it harder to be patient.

When a kid refuses to use the toilet when you are in the bathroom and says, “No I must go back to the table” and then you go back to the table to drop the kid off and “I have to go pee” and… all weekend was like that. It’s not big stuff. It’s really trivial shit. But I had no spoons for it.

And the kids said their favorite part of the conference was buying the toys with their allowance. I said next time we are going to Target and saving me the cost of the conference.

The bronies were nice people. Folks at the convention went really far out of their way to be nice to random kids. I was highly impressed by the enthusiasm and affection all the cosplayers displayed. They truly love what they are doing and are happy to gab about it for hours. Given how much time Shanna spends talking about sewing stuff… it was a dream come true.

She’s almost 7. Joanne’s down the road won’t teach sewing till a kid hits 8. Good thing we get to blow half a year on a road trip while waiting to grow up. We have hand-sewing projects to keep us busy until then.

I have this problem. Where people want to be my friend-out-at-arms-length and I want them to be my bosom-companion and then I have expectations I shouldn’t have and then… I get upset when they aren’t met.

I create this situation. I just don’t know what to do about it. Transference, projection, abreaction, worth, self-esteem… oh my.

And through it all loops this chain of whispering voices, “Not worth the resources. Just die already. Just die already. Why the fuck aren’t you dead yet you fucking cunt?”

I would like to order a new brain, please. Can I have one delivered in Two Days with Prime?

So many thoughts. Can’t write.

Leave a reply

Social anxiety has caused this conference to be a pain fest. I’ve had nasty diarrhea. I feel horrible. My physical feelings seem to have a very clear social connection to me. I could outline many problems and situations but then I’d be punished more. I’m not up for more punishment this moment. Things are bad enough.

It is funny to me how every so often I learn things. Friends do ______; friends don’t do ____________.

I need to be more ok about just moving on from people who behave in ways that prove they are not my friends. Is it hard? Yes. But people who believe I don’t deserve help when I’m injured are not my friends and I’m hurting myself by knowing them. Many more things I can’t say right now.

I will be ok. I have a great family. I am very lucky. I do have friends. I have friends who will support me. Even if they don’t do it exactly how I want. Even if they are complicated too. I do have friends. Friends who want to support me.

I should focus more on them and less on the other kinds.

Theory tested

Leave a reply

I’m not ok with siblings beating on each other. I know that other parents have other approaches and I’m moderately ok about keeping my mouth shut about other policies. I’m not ok with it. I got beat on a lot. It fucked me up. Won’t happen during my watch.

But of course one of my bonus kids whacked a sibling in the face. Whoops. We had a conversation about how while clearly that was an accident–you apologize anyway. You get one sibling in this life. ONE. You are going to need to depend on your sibling at one point. When you hurt them on accident you apologize and try to do better.

And if you refuse and say, “No I don’t like them” that’s fine. You can sit in time out. I don’t really care how you feel about them right now. Your behavior was wrong and when your behavior is wrong you apologize. That’s how it goes. Yeah, it’ll suck if you get your back up. I can wait.

That whole “I can wait” is why I like home schooling and unschooling in particular. I can spring a teaching moment on them at any point.

I feel grateful that I am allowed to have my bonus kids and be an influence on them during their lifetime. Other than that fierce conversation there hasn’t been anything like a punishment. I did snap once “Everyone has to wait their turn. Stop crying about it.” Then… like a miracle… the kid. I mean, I did more “I can understand that you feel really sad and that’s hard… but if you cry about everything that happens to you then people don’t know to pay attention to you because you are hurt. Seriously, save your crying for big things or people learn to ignore you crying.” It’s more structured than just “stop crying”. It’s more “This isn’t worth crying about” because I think that kids have a hard time understanding those kinds of scales.

When you will get a turn to kill zombies in 8 minutes… not worth crying about the fact that you aren’t killing zombies this second. Come on, kid.

But those were the highest friction moments. Otherwise it has just been a non-stop gigglefest. We’ve played so many games and done so many things and laughed and talked. Most of the sobbing about waiting for a turn is resolved with a hug and “It’s hard waiting–isn’t it?” Then it stops. Acknowledgment of your feelings makes them easier to have.

Shanna taught the other three some Minecraft stuff (and got to feel like a rock star in the process). I taught them some Plants vs. Zombies because Shanna is in awe of my prowess. I find it hilarious.

We had a lot of fun. This morning both bonus kids woke up saying that they are happy they got to be here two nights. My kids are already whining about how we don’t want them to go.

I don’t fuck everything up. I just need environments in which I can be successful. Environments in which hitting is something that people do… that requires a strong suppressing response unless full consent has been attained. Then do whatever you want.

Apologies are required. They are not optional when you hurt someone. If you don’t mean it I will be an asshat and talk about their pain until I force you to feel some fucking empathy. “How would you feel if _____ happened to you? Yeah this is like that.” I’ll find a prompt that will make a little kid sound more sincere. Even if that prompt is “Dinner waits until you can find a tone of voice I like.”

I think that’s what parenting is. You help your kids become more functional people. I probably apologize more than I should. But it’s the only culture I feel comfortable passing on.

I’m having a great time. And today we go to BabsCon. And Noah is going to be with us all weekend because his job is going away. (Long story–it’s not a bad thing.) My Little Pony frenzy, here we come.

Come down like a box of hammers.

Leave a reply

I was thinking about the idea of “safe space”. I hang out in the lobbies of a lot of communities that are very focused on this idea. Places where people are safe. It means very different things to different people. I was thinking about what it would mean to me.

I believe that children need to hit. I believe it is part of the developmental process and …yeah it happens. I believe that the appropriate response is coming down like a box of hammers. On any given day my children get one chance for hitting someone. If they hit a second time we are going home right the fuck now and we will be having an unpleasant conversation the whole way home about how you do not have the right to hit people.

I believe that a safe space for me would involve people caring more when their children hit other people.

I don’t live in a world where that is true. Well, there are always people who over react. I don’t scream hysterically at my children for hitting. I don’t hit them. I don’t ground them for extensive periods of time. I don’t take away a bunch of privileges. I sure as hell don’t punish them once we get home–by then they bloody well forgot anyway.

I react in the moment. You get one chance per day. Not three fucking chances on hitting people. I don’t think so. Unless someone else hit you first, and then ok fine you can hit.

But quite frankly… my kids rarely hit back with anyone other than one another. They like fantasy violence quite a bit. They definitely egg on “fighting”. But they are very aware that if they hit a non-combatant mom is going to explode like a fire cracker. No. No. No.

You do not hit someone unless you have their consent. Did you ask them if they want to play a fighting game with words? No? Then what in the world makes you think it is ok to hit them?! IT IS NOT OK TO HIT SOMEONE WHO HAS NOT CONSENTED TO BEING HIT.

Lots of people will agree to play fighting games if you ask. It’s fine to ask.

But I don’t feel like other people have the consent fetish that I have. I need things negotiated and spelled out. Other people… not so much.

I’ve got to say, when my kids were habitually hitting the punishment did continue to the house. When it was happening almost every time we went somewhere we had groundings at home over it. It is a normal developmental stage.

The important part is how adults handle it. If adults act like it is fine… well. That’s a fucking lesson. If adults teach that you are allowed to hit as long as you don’t get caught… that’s a fucking lesson.

My kids don’t enjoy my blistering lectures. Do they “get” all of them? No. They don’t. I talk as if they were adults and they aren’t. They “get” a fraction of what I’m saying. But these conversations are cumulative. They will remember that from as far back as their memory goes their mother was absolutely consistent you do not hit someone who has not consented to being hit.

I understand that other people don’t think this is a message that should be consciously taught. Maybe they just never think of it as an option as opposed to making a decision. I don’t really know.

But it won’t work any other way in my house. I’ll drag you home from the park yelling at you about how you have no right to strike someone else. I won’t feel bad. I DON’T GET TO HIT YOU. YOU DON’T GET TO TURN AROUND AND HIT OTHER PEOPLE. WE DON’T PLAY THAT SHIT AROUND HERE.

Play fighting is different. That’s a game. Know how you know something is a game? You asked someone if they wanted to play before you got started.

But Shanna seriously has issues about getting in other peoples personal space bubbles. I suspect that is part of what causes kids to feel motivated to hit her. She gets right the fuck in their face and most people aren’t taught what to say. Maybe she’ll learn. I’m not sure how many more times she will need to be hit though. I couldn’t begin to count how many times she’s been punched. We talk about it a lot.

So much for home schooling meaning that my kids won’t be beat on. At least I’m there and I get to take them fucking home after the third hit of the day.

If my kids get one chance, why do I give other people two chances? Because one kid hit both my kids once and the other time… man those two have a long running sorta-feud. Given how many times Shanna has punched him… well. What did she do this time? And he does apologize. Usually even without prompting from an adult.

So how many chances do I give? I don’t know. I’m very tired of being hit. Very very very very very very very very very tired of being hit. And I am even more sick of my kids getting hit. And I notice that they are usually the ones who come crying because they got hit.

I’m not sure if they are bigger whiners or if they are actually hit that much more often than other kids.

I’d like to go a whole fucking year without being hit nonconsensually. I’ve never had a year like that. Not one.

I feel very triggered. I wasn’t “pushed out” of my biological family because I prosecuted my father. But I was told through actions that in order to be allowed to stay I would have to accept that everyone around me would rewrite history. “It didn’t really happen.” “He never did anything like that to anyone else.” “You are the problem. We were fine until you caused problems.”

I’m the problem. I should apologize. I should promise to not be a problem any more.

The only way I can promise that is if I die. I’ve never been anything but the problem.

Cue round of intense suicidal ideation. THIS IS A SHITTY TIME. I HAVE AWESOME KIDS IN THE HOUSE WHO ARE BEING NICE TO ME AND LOVING ON ME. WHY IN THE FUCK AM I IN THE YARD CRYING BECAUSE I FEEL UNLOVED AND WORTHLESS AND LIKE I SHOULD DIE.

Because I can’t not cry if I’m in the room with them right now. And Noah is here. It is being handled.

I’m not going to die over this. These people are so not worth it. If losing my mother isn’t going to do it… hell no. But turning the movie screen surround sound system off is hard. I have a lot of willpower to abstain from following through; stopping the thoughts is harder. I feel like I have run most of my life on sheer hate. I’m not dead yet because you will not win, motherfucker.

Which motherfucker, precisely? I don’t even know any more. Take your fucking pick. I’ve got a whole fucking card deck full of names.

Do something different. Yes, the crying and typing is an improvement over the cutting and the head banging, fine and dandy. (Though the arm pain means that this is maybe actually one of the most self-harming actions of my whole life. Cutting had far less chance of crippling me. Ok, banging my head could have caused a stroke. WHATEVER.)

I should fucking know by now. If you have a problem with people you have to shut the fuck up. People are not actually interested in “working through differences”. They want confirmation bias that they are right and you are wrong. I should never have bothered to talk to that fucking mother in the first place. I knew she wouldn’t give a shit about her kid hurting me. Why in the fuck was I so fucking stupid?

I am the problem. Clearly.

If I didn’t have a house full of kids, whoa. I’d make different life choices.

But if I didn’t have the kids I wouldn’t be dealing with these people anyway. So maybe it’s a wash.

Why don’t I just walk away? Why is this worth bothering to try for anyway? Mostly because I’ve kept my kids here for four years and I’ve told them to bond with people. Now I feel like a monster.

Everyone I tell them to bond with I eventually run off. I am a piece of shit. I suppose it will be a good thing that I have bonus kids here tonight. I will have something to do while I’m awake anyway. They always need a lot of help at night. They haven’t done that much sleeping outside their house. Lots of checking in, “Yes, you are still with Krissy and Noah and Shanna and Calli. Yes, you will see your parents again soon. Yes, we love you. Yes, they love you. It is time to sleep now so we can play tomorrow.” I can fucking smile on cue to be reassuring. I’ve worked hard.

I believe that children deserve to have an adult who wants to meet their emotional needs around. It doesn’t have to be a parent full time. It is healthier if it isn’t. Children need to learn that having needs is ok. Needing reassurance is ok. Needing to have help feeling safe is ok.

I can feel safe here. If I can’t feel safe other places, well… if I weren’t such a fucking problem maybe I wouldn’t have so many problems.

I’ve never been able to find a way to not be a problem other than staying home. Or dying.

I want to run away so bad. I’ve lived here too long. I’ve used up my welcome. People are tired of my bullshit. I don’t blame them. I’m tired of it too. If I could run away from being inside my head I would. I want to turn the movie screens off and I can’t.

I keep coming back to swimming out into the ocean. That really does seem to be my first choice. If I go far enough it is pretty fucking sure. I didn’t do so well with over dosing. My body is so sensitive to medications these days I don’t think my body would permit an overdose. I couldn’t use a gun. I converted my garage so I can’t follow my dad. I’m really not a big enough asshole to use Tommy’s method. That was seriously traumatizing to the people involved in the rescue. That’s not fair you fucking asshole. If you are going to kill yourself, at least don’t make a bunch of fucking spectators watch you burn. Not cool. People don’t get over that. Hell, I didn’t even see it and I can’t get over it.

Swimming. Yes, swimming straight out into the Pacific Ocean sounds great.

I have kids! Can’t! Calli tells me all the god damn time that I have to die of very old age. I’ll try, baby.

I’m definitely having temporary problems right now. In ten years this won’t matter at all. Stop being so melodramatic. Err, I’m diagnosed with reasons why I react this way. Fuck you, negative-self-talk. I am fucking improving. I god damn held it together great today. I didn’t start crying till bedtime. That’s doing just fucking fine, ok?!

Whether something is good or bad depends on your point of view.

So sad.

Good & Bad

Leave a reply

For the past few days I’ve been thinking about something. Most things are neither good nor bad as part of their intrinsic “existence”. They are good or bad in the eyes of someone who is judging.

For example: my kids can’t sit still to save their fucking lives (literally) so they can’t move up to a booster seat from a car seat even though they are WAY big enough compared to the legal minimum. I could be really annoyed with them for being so immature. I could be frustrated that they won’t “grow up”. Or I could recognize that I live full time with ants in my pants and I can be glad that they are in an environment where they aren’t punished for the nature they have. I just keep them in car seats. (This goes through my head because I have to install four carseats in the van again. Sigh. I loathe installing carseats. I always break half my nails and have numb fingers for days. CAN’T WE MOVE INTO FUCKING BOOSTERS ALREADY?!?!?!!!!!!)

I sent a reference to a study to a friend. She was afraid I was trying to say something mean. It was a study that finds that how much time parents spend with their kids has little effect on outcome for life. Being a working parent is no worse than being a stay at home parent according to this study–specifically they found that socio-economic level is most of what decides how your kids will turn out. (Shocking, I know.) I sent this to a friend who works in a “See! You were right all along!” sort of way. She didn’t read it that way. I’m sorry it seemed hurtful. I meant it more like, “I’m totally wasting time obsessing over my kids. I should get a job.”

I more meant to poke fun at myself. But things are neither good nor bad in a vacuum. They are good or bad depending on how they are received.

I pick sensitive people to be friends with. That means there are times when we all feel thin skinned. I keep praying that I will get better at riding through these times.

Shanna asked me if she was stupid for loving the boy she’s had a crush on for years. I told her that if loving him brings both of them joy and happiness… it isn’t stupid even if you don’t love him forever. It is never stupid to enjoy the time you have with someone. Even if it isn’t forever.

I need to work on my perspective around the home school group. I fear that we are nearing our exit date. This feels so sad. I’m not going to be an asshole about doing anything dramatic before the trip. I just don’t know that I will try hard to rejoin the group when we come back. I really don’t know.

On one hand I’m having a hard time with this because I feel like a quitter and a bad person. My kids NEED FRIENDS. But… my kids have friends with or without this group. And really… they didn’t bond that much with anyone. Near as I can tell most of the group doesn’t like us very much. It is hard that we have put in the time to get established in the group. It’s been four years. If we have more problems than good times… why bother?

This is still going to be the school group I’ve been associated with the longest for my life. Maybe I’ve hit the limit of what I can handle. If my kids were going to preschool then regular school we wouldn’t get upset about graduating from one group of people to another. Why do I feel like such a quitter with this crowd?

I’m tired of driving 40+ minutes to sit at a freezing cold park. I’m the one with the problem so I’ll solve it by backing away.

Apparently I’m the one with most of the problems. I should promise to not be a problem any more.

Maybe I should just stay home.

Maybe I’m just the problem.

The group doesn’t care about having institutional memory as to which kids have done what. I need to not care either. I have no power, influence, or status. Shut the fuck up you stupid bitch.

I …

I feel sad.

So I’ll say that today I took the trailer to the CHP station to get the VIN verified. On Friday I get to visit the DMV for registration and licensing and what-not. I’m excited. I get to run away from home soon. So I can forget that I’m not very wanted.

Tonight my bonus kids will come to visit. They stay till Friday. I’ll drop them off on our way to PonyCon (Officially named BabsCon but who knows what the hell that means). I’m so excited about seeing them. I haven’t been feeling very successful with kids lately other than them. I feel like I’m doing everything wrong because I’m bad. Because I deserve to be kicked. Because I am bad. Because I’m angry that I was told to promise not to be a problem any more. I don’t know how to stop feeling angry about this.

I’ll stop eventually. I’m just not there yet.

Next week a different set of kids is spending the night. We have never kept this pair before. I have more apprehension than with my bonus kids just because I’ve never been alone with these kids for long. They have very different rules in their family. (Not evaluating them as better or worse.) It’s going to be an exercise in “setting expectations”. I love those. I do better with kids than I do with adults.

With kids I’m good at saying, “Oh! I didn’t explain this right. That was my mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how to be successful.” With adults I’m all, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you fuck up?” Which is… not so helpful. I’m such an asshole.

I feel very good at handing patience to people I perceive as younger than me and horrifyingly bad at doing it with people who are older. One trick to force me out of this pattern is to have someone older than me as my designated student. (I have taught writing classes to adults much older than me.) Then I know going in that I have the “power” in the exchange and I can be gracious.

Such an asshole.

We got our summer sandals yesterday so we can work on breaking them in before the trip.

The thing about not feeling wanted… I spend a fair bit of time feeling like Noah doesn’t want me around. If ever there was an irrational, unfounded feeling… this is it.

The problem lies in my ability to perceive. Part of the trouble is people are so spread out that everyone needs a lot of driving from me in order to facilitate relationships. That hurdle means I need to feel pulled like a magnet. If I don’t feel wanted like that… it gets harder and harder.

I called my friend on the phone every day for over a year. We had a hard communication issue. We are still friends. I love her so much. I don’t really call any more. I can’t. I’m not punishing her. I just… can’t. I start crying as soon as I pick up the phone because I don’t feel invited enough so I put it down without dialing. Which isn’t her fault and I don’t want her to do anything to try and change this. It just is. Instead we are emailing a bit more often and trying to arrange in person time. I can feel wanted enough for that. Once I get there her facial expression lets me know that she really wants me there. But a hurdle got put in front of the phone. And I don’t know how to get over it.

I do this with people and methods of communication. This is a constellation of problems I have over and over with a wide variety of people. This isn’t someone else’s fault. It just is.

Living with it is hard. Is my over sensitivity a good thing or a bad thing? It just is. Being this sensitive is part of what makes me me. It’s part of what makes me good at being empathetic in the ways I am. I wouldn’t give up that part of me for anything. It just means that I am hypersensitive to feeling like my presence is not making peoples lives better.

I want to make peoples lives better. I’m terribly afraid that mostly I make the world a worse place. I drain people of energy and resources and I’m really not worth it. I’m a needy motherfucker.

Someone I know was talking about how she has “no friends” but I know of her knowing a lot of people. Near as I can tell she meant, “I don’t have anyone I can call on a bad day for support”. Uhm, do you know what I do on my bad days? I talk to the internet. I don’t get a response the vast majority of the time. I don’t call anyone. I don’t have anyone in my life right now that I feel that comfortable with. I’ve had it at points for periods of time, but it comes and goes.

Mostly on bad days I isolate myself and cry and try to wait for it to end; I hope it ends fast.

Does that mean I have “no friends”? Well that seems mean to all of the people who give what they can.

My bad days are just too much. They are too bad. They are too frequent. It isn’t fair to burden people. My shrink tells me over and over that I just can’t expect to ever have that kind of support. Period.

So I stay home. And I cry. And I write. That’s how I get through bad days now.

Well, at least it is better than cutting myself as a reminder that everyone would be happier if I was dead. If I stopped being such a problem.

My feelings are all over the map. High and low at the same time. This is overwhelming and shitty.

Just run away. Just run away. Just run away.