Life has been feeling too busy to even stop and catch my breath. Leaving the house with the kids uses up a very large amount of my daily “oomph”. Kids resist putting on clothing, they scream and hit me and tell me they don’t want to leave, they resist putting on carseats (while screaming directly in my face and trying as hard as possible to kick me in the face).
Leaving the house is something that I figure we will do more of once my kids are older and have an interest in where we are going. Only I’ve been feeling a lot of internal pressure to “get involved” and I don’t actually think I am doing us favors. So far in February we haven’t had a day at home and I cancelled on next week’s park day because if I don’t then we won’t have a day at home until my dead-brother’s-birthday. And even on that day we still have to leave the house for ballet.
I’m freaking out and feeling brittle. Someone commented both, “You look like you’ve had a hard morning” and later, “Oh you found your smile!” My terse responses of, “Yes.” and “I know what is fucking expected of me whether I like it or not.” Her third response was, “OOOOkay…”
Being nice to people is hard. I understand it is for most people. I get so scared. I know if I’m in a bad mood I’m going to say the wrong thing. I am tired of making people hate me. But I can’t be “engaged in the community” if I am silent. It’s a Catch 22–even though I’ve never read the book.
I would love to spend more time stoned. That would help a lot. But leaving the house every day means that my pot consumption has dropped massively. I can only smoke a little at the end of the day (lately I’ve only been getting twenty minutes before the pounding on the door and “I need you” starts) so I’ve been very sober this month.
Let me recount the reasons I wish I was stoned. Why, at 3:43 am I would really like to go get absolutely hammered. I have time! I have freedom! I have… therapy in a few hours in Oakland and I have to drive. Shit.
My stomach hurts. I keep crying because I’m just waiting for everyone to hate me. I don’t know how to stop feeling so anxious. A lot of it is that I am in an unprecedented part of my life experience. I have never gone this long without being hit or sexually assaulted in the rest of my life. My body knows that relaxing is dangerous and stupid. But it isn’t. Normal people don’t get assaulted as often as I do. I don’t have to be afraid all the time.
But then I would lose my pattern recognition skills-right? I have learned skills that kept me alive. Maintaining them is killing me.
Right now this feels tied to how much I am going out of the house. Every morning I wake up with a cup of patience. If I have to take the kids out of the house I have to strongly limit how many other things I ask of them or I will end up angry in a way I can’t get back from. Well, not till the next day when my patience re-ups.
I know that “normal” people have jobs and get their kids out of the house 5+ days a week without whining like me. I don’t think I could do it and be a nice person. I could do it–but I think I would be a very harsh and demanding figure as opposed to my current laissez faire approach to life.
I wish I had the nerve to cherry pick people from groups (I would rotate so I can get to know everyone) and reduce how often I go out of the house to three days a week and have one day a week when our house is “open” and folks can come play. Then I could have a socialization without the surrounding unpleasant.
But I don’t feel comfortable doing it. I don’t know why. I worry about offending people. I worry about finding out that people won’t come. I feel like it is ridiculous the way I want people to come to me but I don’t want to reciprocate. I feel like a user. There are things I would like to do, simple things. I don’t think anyone would be mad at me. But I’m too scared to ask. Knowing people is so hard. I don’t understand what they want.
Part of it is, other people seem to be very different about their houses. We don’t get invited to peoples houses much (my kids want to touch everything) and it feels rude to want to be the one who doesn’t have to travel.
In the bay area who is willing to travel where is a big thing. I have a huge chip on my shoulder after decades of having people in San Francisco or Oakland tell me that it isn’t worth going to my house–I should come to their house. I have had a lot of relationships that required me to do a minimum of forty-five minutes of driving each way. With how my kids feel about driving I would rather shove rusty nails in my veins than continue to maintain these relationships. As far as I can tell–none of those folks actually give a shit about me. The journey is too hard in my direction but it is somehow magically easier in their direction?
So I don’t invite people over often. I feel like it isn’t a good idea. It’s selfish. It’s stupid. It’s presumptuous and self-involved. No one else with kids gets the advantage of home court so I should have to deal with the fucking park like everyone else.
Why can’t I just be a weird recluse and people have to come to me? I know that historically such people exist. But doing that requires either the balls to just be alone all the time or the ability to usefully invite people over. I’m scared. I don’t think I have enough social capital to be interesting enough to travel for. Thus I work on my house. I’m not interesting but if you are under eleven my house is pretty rad. I have a wide variety of plans to make it more interesting. I just need to stay god damn home in order to build it all.
Leaving the house like this means I make no useful progress on writing. My brain is too full of petty idiocy.
What do I want my life to look like? I may have to clamp down again. I have to say no to things. Even though I fear that every turned down invitation is a closed door that will prevent people from ever being able to like me.
Too much going on. I keep crying. And I really can’t handle sex. I’m kind of trying because that’s one of the long-list of things I’m “supposed” to do. I feel so empty. I don’t want to have sex with Noah when I feel like a worthless whore. I don’t want to have sex with him when I feel like I can be all but unconscious and he doesn’t care–a hole is a hole. I don’t like feeling this way. I don’t know how to change it today. I’m acting like I don’t believe it is true. But mostly when I’m home I’m watching re-runs of The West Wing because I’m too tired to be working hard at home and dealing with going out. It’s one or the other. I wish I felt more competent.
If an extra adult would be helpful in the out-of-the-house excursions, I’d still like to come down and visit for an afternoon. However, I understand that the BART leg complicates logistics — which is why I state it up front — and it might not be worth the struggle of getting kids in the van. If VTA runs between your house and BART, I could get to your place on my own. It takes longer, but I have a free VTA pass as long as I’m a student. I would rather be at your house than out in the world with you and the kids — it seems like everyone would be more comfortable. Up to you, of course.
My Gravatar looks like Rocky. LOLZ.
We tend to go to other people’s houses a lot more often than we invite people to ours. But that is because a) our place is small, and not conducive to having guests (and often messy) and b) because my kids go nuts if they’re in the house for too long. They really like going to other people’s houses. Different toys, different things to do, and that’s more fun for them. We have friends (you among them) who prefer to stay home, and that works out well for both parties.
Well, I invite people over to our house far more often than we go out. Partly for selfish reasons – I can put the baby in bed if he needs it, I don’t have to pay for petrol or get repeatedly lost on the way there (my sense of direction is abysmal), and I get to make biscuits or something. Also, it forces me to clean the house…
It works OK for our adult friends, because we have a projector. :p For kids, our house itself isn’t that appealing – we don’t have that many toys because clutter drives me mad – but we live on an orchard, so there are plum trees and logs to climb on and sheep and our chickens to look at. So it’s good, as long as the weather’s decent – if it isn’t, we tend to be cooped up a bit in our small house and I feel inadequate at the lack of toys.
Anyway, I’m sure you’re worth travelling to! Just ask – the worst they can do is say no, right? I know lots of people whose kids prefer to go out than entertain at home – they might be thrilled not to have to clean, make snacks etc.