I got back fifty-two drawings from kids at the school. I’m excited about the mural. There were some duplicate drawings of the same place (most of the duplicates are of Mission Peak which I find kind of funny. Maybe they all just thought a mountain would be easy to draw?) but a lot of them are just little kids generically drawing a flower and writing, “Me gusta las flores.” I can totally work with that.

I think what I will do is map out how far apart I want to make the big monuments (I need to think of scale) then I will add in all the more abstract art and commentary as a sort of border. I have some interesting ideas I’m not sure if I am physically capable of following through on. No way to figure it out except to try!

When that is done I’m supposed to put together sample pieces for the local swim center. That space would like a mural too.

And the Hindu Temple on the corner has asked me to teach English classes this summer. The woman who runs their education stuff is fierce and dedicated in terms of getting her kids knowledge. As soon as she figured out that I used to teach her face lit up. “Oh I haven’t been able to find anyone to teach high school English! You will do it.” Oh. Well. That was kind of like “asking” I guess. Ha. She did ask me to narrow down when I was available so she could “let people know the time”. Ha.

I think I am nearly moved to tears. It is so usurping and kind of high handed but she has seen me take over and lead the Hindi level 1 class even though I don’t speak the language. I still know how to teach. (Our teacher went to India for a month. Good for her! Less good for us who still can barely count to ten without help. Ha. We are muddling through.)

It felt like being recognized as having a super power. “Oh man. You can DO THINGS!” Besides the whole English class thing will be twenty hours of teaching over the next two and a half months. It isn’t a lot of time. *phew* And they are thrilled to have my kids run around while I am teaching. Pretty much every one there has been gracious, welcoming, and kind to my children. I feel very grateful that we have such a kind Temple on the corner to become involved with.

Someone asked me today why we don’t join a church. I said we don’t fit in. She gave me a weird look then kind of said, “Ok.” I smiled. Big. Big big cheesy grin. I didn’t explain.

A good friend called yesterday. A good friend who was a forced child prostitute. We have very enlightening conversations about triggers. I told him that I am really struggling with being hit on because I am thinner now. I don’t know how to deal with it very well. All of my training on this topic is uhhh currently not-useful. He gave me some very good advice. I haven’t met very many people in my entire life who can talk frankly about their own compulsive sexual behavior due to childhood assault. He and I can sit around trade stories back and forth about why we are into things.

The hardest part of monogamy is that I can’t do what I have done my entire life. If you pay attention to me you’ll see that the sex is only the leading edge of my attention span. It isn’t a very big part of my overall attention span. I use sex as a way of sniffing people out and occasionally building social bonds. I rarely continue having sex with people. Only with people who have something I feel I want access to and I can’t get it any other way.

This good friend is one that I have done a fair bit of sleeping with because I want access to him. He has things to say that I really want to hear. It is hard getting him to talk in the same ways as “just a friend”. And I find it ridiculously flattering that he can travel around the world and be celibate because he didn’t find anyone he wanted to sleep with but he reminds me frequently that any time I’m sick of my husband he’s waiting.

I don’t want to cheat on my husband and I consider such comments to be really far in the “not a friend of my marriage” direction. Yet he can talk to me about things that other people literally can’t. So I mostly talk to him on the phone and remind him not to touch when we are in person. He does actually respectfully follow boundaries with his hands. Just not with his mouth.

Then again his patterns in life involve being absolutely unable to be long-term monogamous and every relationship blows up over cheating after a while. I don’t really want his pattern, thankyouverymuch.

Because it isn’t about the sex. It’s the attention. When I take sex outside my relationship I take my attention out of the relationship too. If I think back to my relationship with my owner I was pretty clearly side stepping out from the minute I started sleeping with other people. There was no chance of that lasting. “Oh wait, you don’t want to meet my needs but any of a variety of other people will? Why am I here again?”

I can’t go through that process with Noah. This is different. This is different from anything I have ever done. The majority of people I know who have been married have been divorced. I don’t want to divorce. I want to be married to Noah. I want the life we are dreaming up together. I like the way he makes me feel as a person. I like the way he makes me feel as a mother. I like the way he makes me feel as a wife. I do not want to replace him. Anyone else would be a major step down. I am used to how Noah treats me. Sometimes that is even a high bar for Noah.

Pulling in emotionally is hard but I have to do it. I’m running out of time for my crazy. I don’t have the support I need. Yay suppression. Yay denial. Handy-dandy tools in my tool box.

Reading the letter from my therapist hit me really hard. Yes, I abreact nearly every day. Sometimes to the point where I am immobilized. Yup. That’s my life. How do I shove that reaction into a smaller and small box? I was told to put it in a briefcase and carry it around with me so I can check that it is still there but it is contained. A little distance is good.

It does matter if my body physiologically feels like I am dying or like catastrophic things are happening. I don’t get to express that. It bothers people.

I have to be more calm. Stop reacting. Stop being such a fucking dick. Good luck. I’m trying to go in for lip suturing but so far Kaiser is cock-blocking me. Maybe I should go ask some of my friends. I do know people who specialize in that. That would ensure that my problems were my problems and no one else’s.

Sometimes it feels like I am in a huge hole drowning in water. People seem to think that the best way to help me is to throw dirt on my head. Surely the hole will fill in eventually and I can crawl out–right? Only if I’m not buried alive first.

Well… time to do something else. I need to start a book. Ha. With all that copious spare time.

I have been internally resisting something hard. Noah and I had an agreement that I was basically off-leash until September. I was supposed to have a lot of time off and be able to go Get Things Done. Unfortunately he burned out a while ago. He doesn’t talk about it and he won’t. But if I tried to delude myself into thinking I was still off-leash things would dramatically go down hill.

My time is over. *shrug* I get to try to not be bitter about this. He gave me more than a year. He’s tired. He’s worn out. I get it. Work loads never truly balance.

I only get to do things if I can do it with the kids. If I can’t do it with the kids while I am responsible for them then I don’t need to do it in the next fifteen years. I feel kind of sad about that. I mean, I still have a friend who is happy to babysit while I see my therapist and Noah works from home on Tuesdays so I am allowed to have doctors appointments. But that’s going to be the limit.

I feel a lot of feelings. He isn’t enjoying his life. He doesn’t get to do anything he wants. (I’m not sure how that many hours/week of video gaming counts as not getting to do anything but I am not the one with a math degree. We can feel free to minimize my opinion.)

Sometimes it feels really uncomfortable in the pit of my stomach because I agree with Noah that he should take a long view of his life. He needs to ensure he doesn’t burn out too badly. He’s likely to live for a very long time. I agreed to fifteen more years. What does it matter if my body burns out?

I have begged Noah to never let another woman live in this house as part of *this* family. If he wants to replace me he has to sell this house and do it somewhere else. Those of you who read this will be the only ones who can hold him to that.

I feel tired and anxious. I feel pointless and weary. I feel stupid and incompetent. Why does it feel like the world would be so much happier without me to drag everything down? I feel like downer girl on delivery. I can make any good thing bad.

A friend asked me why I tell doctors I have PTSD when their reaction is so bad. I tell because I cry through most doctor visits. Depending on how they react and physically present sometimes I cry a lot. They want to know why. It is very disconcerting for them to have a sobbing woman on the table. They figure they can’t talk to me until I am emotionally under control–so go to psychiatry.

When I was a child the worst thing a doctor could say was, “I can’t find anything wrong” because then I was punished and punished and punished. Obviously I was a lying hypochondriac. Err, stress is hard on a body. But I wasn’t allowed to manifest that in any way. I was supposed to pretend I wasn’t under stress. Everything was Great! After a couple of decades of pressure and bad experiences in my early twenties… I cry in doctors offices. Which is apparently a golden ticket to never be taken seriously.

I am sorry I am so broken. I keep thinking that I shouldn’t have had kids. If I were childless I think there is very little chance I would still be breathing.

It’s Fathers Day. Fuck you father. I hope you are rotting in hell.

I suppose it is a good thing Noah doesn’t care about the holiday. The kids and I will be going out. He doesn’t want to go with us. Shocking.

I need to stop asking him at all. I know what the answer will be and it is a rather dick move on my part to keep asking so that I get mad at him.

The last couple of weeks have been a reminder to me. Only ask for things if you are ok with the answer being no. If someone saying no will be a problem, don’t ask. Figure it the fuck out. It isn’t worth asking. I just get told no over and over and then I feel angry and hateful and I’m not supposed to. It is supposed to be ok for everyone to tell me no. That’s fine. They can have their boundaries.

I need to stop asking. It hurts too much. I can’t pretend I’m fine and pretend I am part of a community that will support me. I can do one or the other. For a few years now I have been leaning on people. I’m getting told no more and more. That makes sense. The needy period of my life has to end. People are out of the energy they will give to strangers.

If you can’t do it for yourself then you don’t deserve to have it. Isn’t that the American Way? Boot strap yourself up or fuck you. That’s how we do it here. Ok.