Alright, internet, it’s confession time. Sometimes I intensely dislike my husband. Parts of P!nk’s new album The Truth About Love were written from inside my brain. If you haven’t heard any of them and you are killing time on the internet, please do.

So end of digression. I’ve been having feelings. This isn’t about Noah bashing. He hasn’t done anything wrong. I just feel unsettled and angry and resentful and scared and hostile and like I want to fucking punch someone in the face and you are the only stupid fucker here. I don’t hit Noah. Not in jest, not in retribution–nada. If I hit Noah he hits back. Harder. I don’t really need to start a fistfight in front of my kids so I don’t hit Noah.

But I’m having these feelings. I’m so angry. So angry. So fucking angry why can’t I fucking hurt someone angry. But I can’t. I will not. I am very aware that there is a very big part of my brain that wants to seriously hurt someone. Kicking the bag isn’t really much of an outlet for this energy. Encouraging it is poison.

I’ve had friends in the bdsm community offer to “do a scene with me where I can get out those demons”. I burst into spontaneous laughter at the thought. No. You only think you want that. I learned a lot of very specific skills during my time in that community. The first thing I would do is staple your mouth shut. So you can never revoke consent. Things would go from there.

I am an extremely violent person. This isn’t something that feels good to me. I want to break someones nose specifically because I want to spit on the blood and grind it all over someones face. I want to damage someone very badly. And I learned how to tie people up very well. If someone was stupid enough to walk into that… that wouldn’t be pretty. I would probably go to jail. And I’d accept that. It is appropriate to lock up people who want to do that. But there was consent.

I don’t top from this place. And luckily I married into this situation that prohibits that from happening because Noah will never give initial consent. It is tidy.

I like those kinds of specific closed doors. They force me to think about no longer trying to hunt or ways of pleasing other people. Want do I actually want?

I don’t know but I feel angry. I don’t always feel like I want to punch the person in front of me and spit in the blood. Uhm, rarely even. Almost never? It’s unusual? Ok. I think that one looks bad and can’t be made better so I’m moving on.

I have a lot of unexpressed frustrations in my life and it’s something I need to be more honest about. In the past few days I’ve been reading books about teaching computer programming to children as a way of teaching a specific style of thinking while also reading a book that railed against the entire mechanism and orientation of the modern school system. I’ve also been reading about how networks work versus how communities work. I live in an era and a place where people have a kind of basic orientation to friendship that is the exact opposite of what I grew up to expect.

I always thought I would kind of just jump into a camp. I’d find a partner and ditch my family and blend in to his. Well. So much for that. Ok. It’s us. And the kids. That’s my “family”. When I need support I need to consciously think about how to meet it. I watched some terrible movie on netflix with rape as a plot twist and the only part of it that was in any way worth remembering was watching the mom try to support the daughter through the healing process after trauma. But she was fucking there. She crawled through the stupid window in a stupid plot device that is only found on movies.

But dude.

Isn’t anger one of the stages of grief? All of the ways I look up for help are ways my mommy taught me to look up to her to for help. And right now I fucking hate her so much. Right now I wish she was dead. I don’t feel this anger at my father any more. It won’t be over until she is dead.

She was my mommy and she did not take care of me. Yes, yes you tell me… get over it. Forgive her. Oh fuck you. You forgive her. But this anger is eating me alive. I want my mommy.

When I was Shanna’s age I had to learn to silently cry myself to sleep because I wanted my mommy. If I wasn’t silent then “I was given a reason to cry” and I would be hit and the tv would be turned up terribly loud.

My mommy was getting married. Her other kids were at the wedding. I was too much trouble. I would get in the way.

Sometimes standing next to Shanna makes me shake. I feel so much anger at her entitlement. I feel like a gigantic jackass but I say, “Try again” is pleasant a tone as I can manage. Ok sometimes it is through gritted teeth. Rarely. She comes back with a please and a question instead of a demand.

I was not allowed to get into things. The food was for the family. But Auntie always had big tubs of red vines and vanilla wafers. And those delightful Fruity Pebbles. Oh man. I was never supervised all that well. I learned how to how to be sly and get my way very early. I stole so much sugar. Did I mention I’ve been hiding bags of chocolate chips in my shirt drawer and I come in and sneak handfuls? Oh internet I’ve been keeping a lot from you lately.

I’m having a lot of feelings. I’m baiting Noah. I think there are points where he could be persuaded to change his thinking but my current approach is nothing short of taunting him. I’m just not being nice. I must have been snippy with the kids because they are both clinging to me like mad all day every day. I’m trying to have patience. You teach patience by having patience. It is pretty much my meditation period during the day. Sit down and try to have an out of body experience so you don’t beat the shit out of someone as they gouge you one more fucking time.

This is an investment in a future person who does not yet exist. That person is shaped, every day by how she is treated. My kids do not have lovies. They have me. Mt. Mommy. Apparently. It’s quite uncomfortable and something I am struggling with how to have boundaries about. This is the kind of thing that is supposed to happen by the grandmother dragging the kid off the mom and saying, “Dude! You’re getting heavy. You’re mom asked you to sit next to her not on her.” Then the kid listens. With mom it’s a huge battle.

I could have had that. Fuck. She’d love to live here. Even the cold garage would be fine. She would constantly complain about me overheating the house just to get back at me.

But she is monstrous in her way. “Do you know what happened because of you” should never be followed with information about *anyones* finances. My niece feels a lot of obligation to support the family. I don’t know how she is going to do it. I’m scared for her. But I need to be unaware of this situation. If she wants out she knows where I am.

But my sister and my mom are not welcome in my life. Not given the way they behave. It is hard knowing that they are monsters and I’m not allowed to kill the. We live in a time and a place that doesn’t really allow that.

Ok, I don’t want to go kill them. Not just because of the legal consequences. I’m angry but I’m not that angry.

But I will feel lighter when I find out each of them is dead. I suppose I should feel guilty about that…. Ok done.

I feel really angry that I wasn’t taught what this life was like. My mom worked from the time I was four years old. I have no memories of spending days with her. I was with a series of indifferent, inattentive caregivers until I was entirely left alone. It was financial necessity. Just a high school diploma from Bakersfield was not really much to go on for employment.

I get “why I should forgive her”. I can tell you that whole story. But it doesn’t change the fact that she would try to make my daughter feel small. She does it to everyone around her. I don’t want my kids to learn it. And when you have it around you are allowing it to be taught. I know that makes me rigid.

I mean, I am not open to that. But we have people in our lives. Am I treating my resources like a network or like a community? Who is open to what? I’m going to be let down. I’m going to have to be ok with hearing no. Is it terrible that sometimes I feel terrible about being turned down when I invite people over? Then I get to stay home. Without noise–ok, mostly without a huge din.

But I just wander around feeling this coiling, coursing snake. I want to attack someone so much.

I’ve been running a bit more. I’m hella slow. Ha. I’m going to be running a 5k with a friend… shit. Next weekend. Ack. Ha. Well, we’ll make it through and have a lovely chat.