Ok, that was short.  I feel like I should pat myself on the back.

I’m also feeling a massive extra layer of anxiety because in less than two weeks Noah is taking Shanna to the wedding of his younger brother in Texas.  They are going without me and Calli.  It’s the right decision. I’m struggling with it.

I judge Noah’s family as being one I don’t want to be part of because I can’t handle dealing with how much his mom gets to set the terms of reality for that family.  But my daughters have to make that decision for themselves.  They need to be kept safe from the crazy when they are little and they need to be made strong enough to withstand it from everyone in the whole world when they are older.  Then they get to decide if they want to know this family.  That’s their story to tell, not mine.

It feels really hard that Noah and my kids get to have an extended family and I am the bad little girl without a family.  I think I officially broke ties with my family because I didn’t want them to get to have the facebook-level-contact and think that was a relationship.  They are bastards who abandoned me.  I don’t want them.  It feels like I just don’t want anything that is on offer.

But is that because I’m ungrateful?  Do I just not appreciate the gifts I was given?  Am I just shallow?  I worry that I reject family because I am too broken, not because of problems with them.  But when I explain the reasons I am doing it to Noah he says it’s a good choice for me.

Why do my good choices always end up with me sitting along in a room?  Why is that my destiny?  I hate feeling so alone.  Noah is the only adult with any responsibility for or to me.  Sometimes I feel so much anger and rage and bitterness when Sarah talks about her family.  It’s not.fucking.fair.

Sometimes it feels like the only reason I was born is so that asshole men will have an appropriately enthusiastic whore to fuck.  Because that is all I am good for.  When people tell me that I am a good mother it goes through my head that whores can’t be good mothers.  Once in a while someone will tell me that I haven’t actually been paid for sex, so I’m not a whore.  Well, I’m not a prostitute but I challenge the idea that I’m not a whore.  Urbandictionary says a whore is someone who will fuck anyone but you whereas a slut will fuck anyone.  That sounds like me.  And the main reason I turn people down for sex is because I am afraid they won’t be aggressive enough.  Code for: they aren’t a big enough asshole and they won’t hurt me enough for me to know they are a man.  Or some stupid shit like that.

I don’t know.  I know that I don’t always feel this way.  I know that bdsm play has made me feel good about myself in the past.  But why is it mandatory?  Why do I have to be hurt?  Is it really required for life?  Only if I want to make Noah happy.  There’s the bind.  There’s the brick wall for me to slam my head against.

Noah would settle into vanilla monogamy with me forever if I required it of him.  But I would have to maintain it myself.  And I’m not sure I can.  And him just doing the interesting stuff with other people isn’t ok with me.  I want to be the one he wants.  I’m not sure if it relieves or accelerates my anxiety to know how much he likes me.