So I did some crying. Not as much as usual. When I came out to do my sob fest in the garage at 1am, freaking Pam was STILL AWAKE so we talked until 4:30 instead of me crying the whole time. It was good to talk to her.

I still brace myself for her disapproval after almost everything I say. Even though we’ve been close friends for 17 years. I’m still afraid that this harsh, angry comment will be the straw that breaks the camels back. (I’m not being harsh/angry at/about her. Just in the same room. About other situations.) I’m worried that I will “run out of chances”.

I’m really bad about having people run out of chances when they didn’t know they were using them up. I’m like everyone else. I’m an asshole too.

I have trouble believing that it is ok for me to have a hard time with other people and express that I’m having a hard time in my house where they can’t hear me. I’m not talking shit behind their back, I’m having feelings about them. I don’t call up a list of people to shit talk. I don’t write out diatribes about how awful people are for not being convenient for me.

I stay in my house and I talk to my husband or a small number of very close friends who come visit. I don’t trash talk people. I raise my voice and say I’m so mad. I say I feel used or rejected or unloved.

I stomp my feet and I cry. Sometimes I kind of shriek/yell. I don’t do it AT people. Sometimes other people are in the room but mostly not. I try not to do it in front of the kids very much.

My kids already know that when I’m really angry–when it is bad I will stand very still and clench my fists and start crying. I can’t talk. I can’t yell. When I’m THAT mad… I have to just breathe and cry until some of the edge is taken off.

It isn’t anyone else’s fault that I have such strong emotional reactions at this stage in my life. Arguably it is the fault of my early childhood caregivers or my abusers, but really that’s kind of irrelevant now.

I’m responsible for my actions. Only me. Only me.

Part of the problem is I feel so ashamed of myself for wanting things from people that they can’t give me. For wanting too much attention or affection or help. I feel like I am still a dirty unwanted kid. And I react like it. Even though it isn’t fair of me.

The last two days I’ve been an asshole with the kids. Even on fairly no-big-deal stuff my voice is too loud. I sound really harsh. I keep telling the kids that I’m sorry I sound so angry–it isn’t their fault. I’m having big feelings and I’m sorry I’m not more in control of my mouth.

I feel so ashamed. I’m not mad at my kids. Even though Shanna is dumping salt all over the floor. Whatever. Clean it up. It doesn’t need shouting.

But I shouted. I cut myself off. I tried again. But I feel like a fucking pathetic loser for screwing up so much. My kids deserve so much better than I am. I’m so sorry.

I am all that I am. I’m trying. I’m working as hard as I can. I’m straining as hard as I can. I’m so sorry that I sound mean sometimes. You never ever deserve me being mean to you. Ever. Never. That’s just not how the world works. I’m sorry that sometimes I am an asshole when you don’t deserve it.

To be fair, when my kids lash out at me inappropriately, they apologize. I’m not sure this is a good cycle though. I don’t know. I don’t know if I am good enough.

We don’t call names. We don’t put people don’t. We aren’t denigrating. But sometimes I am way too fucking loud when I say “Shanna. Stop dumping salt on the floor.” And I growl. I sound like a fucking asshole.

I know that I don’t cross the line into what is technically termed “abuse”. But I don’t really want to be technically correct and wrong in spirit.

Today I was a nice mom. I helped Calli pick up the toys in the play room (it’s a big job for a three year old alone–Pam helped her with the living room) and she can have the iPad for a bit. The battery was only at 50% when she gets it so she can have it till it dies.

I think that after lunch we are going to walk to our neighbor’s house. A different neighbor than the one we visited this morning after signing up for another round of Hindi class. This one has teenage daughters. I’m going to walk right over and say, “Lovely ladies. Would you like a job?” I think I need to look around my neighborhood a bit more.

Ideally I would like to have four or five babysitters. In my perfect world I will find an Indian grandmother who is happy to babysit once or twice a month. I’d like to have three or four teenagers to call.

If I want to be supportive of my friends and their health I have to pick up and move on from the set back of losing the childcare trade. I like the mom a lot. I love the kids. I don’t want to lose the connection. My cat won’t live 15 more years. Things will work out down the road.

But I’m going to have to find the energy to go out and hunt for connections. And right this minute that feels so hard and so scary.

I’m struggling with the GU problem. It isn’t that I have a dearth of wonderful, amazing people in my life. It is that my friends are Geographically Undesirable. I used to tell people that I would love to date them only they were GU. It was one of the primary ways I disqualified people.

I don’t love the commuter lifestyle. And I talk about that. So it makes for interesting tension with my friends. On one hand, they’d like to invite me to things. On the other hand they don’t want to impose driving on me. Dilemma.

I ain’t the only one who would prefer to not-ask over being rejected.

Then we run into the lesbian sheep problem. WHY DIDN’T YOU SEE ME AGGRESSIVELY STANDING STILL NEXT TO YOU. WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO JUMP ME ALREADY?!

I have a really fucking hard time inviting myself over to peoples houses. Seriously, do you not understand how difficult it is for me to even call someone let alone say, “Hey why don’t you invite me over for dinner?”

I don’t ask people over more because fear of rejection has me waking up at midnight to cry. Even though I frequently get positive responses.

I get a lot of rejection.

I treat inviting people over very similarly to how I used to treat hunting. Ask enough people and someone will say yes.

People say no for lots of reasons. Most of them aren’t about me. Being told no still hurts really bad.

I like the people who invite themselves over. Those are my favorites. I do have to rarely say “This date won’t work can we do x instead?” and once in a blue moon I flat say no. But… I think it has happened twice since I’ve lived in this house. So eight years.

For all that I’m ok with conflict, and people really think of me as a pro-conflict person with a lot of boundaries, … I don’t say no. I want relationships and I want people so much that I ache with the desire for connection a lot of the time.

My kids are awesome and wonderful and great. The way they love me is healing and important and really soothing. But my kids see only a very small fraction of me. And it needs to stay that way for many many more years. Decades.

That hurts so fucking bad sometimes that I feel like I am choking.

I feel like having a relationship with my kids is giving me a space where I have to learn the kinds of boundaries that “should” exist in polite society because I care so much about the stakes.

But I miss the over-sharing I used to do. (Writing is both more and less revealing. But I don’t get much of a sense of bonding or connecting from spewing my whiny shit on the internet.)

Except for once in a while. Like when Pam will come over and talk for half an hour or more about her perceptions and thoughts while reading my blog. That right there, that’s my fucking happy place.

It has only happened a couple of times. It’s not like I demand that she spend lots of time talking about me every time she visits or anything.

It is very rare for people to talk to me about my writing. Mostly people will ignore it entirely or make oblique references as if it is some giant secret that Shouldn’t Be Discussed. It’s kind of weird sometimes.

Have you noticed the link in the bottom of every email I send? I’m not really “in the closet”.

But I get that very few people write this way and figuring out what to fucking say is kind of weird. And I have a habit of biting peoples heads off. So it’s really my own damn fault.

Like everything else.

And it comes full circle. But I’m crying at a slower rate. That’s good.

Today I learned that we are ten days away from the birthday of one of our crusty old man neighbors. Calli told him, “I want to be invited to your party!”

He said, “I don’t think I’m having one. I’d be surprised if I even got a cake.”

So of course Calli replied, “Oh! Then you need cupcakes! We will make them! We will have a party and it will be wonderful!” Then she danced around him like a little fairy. It was so cute he almost melted. Apparently all his grandbabies are far far away and he rarely sees them.

Ah, no wonder he likes us so much. I thought they were closer than that. My mistake.

So apparently I get to make cupcakes soon. We’ll probably make a picnic and invite him and his lovely bride to enjoy some time on the front lawn with us. (He still always calls her his bride. It’s adorable times a million.)

Just because people have a hard time meeting my needs, that doesn’t mean that they don’t care or that I’m not loved or that there are no people in the world available for relationships.

I suppose tired is better than sad and that is where I’m headed at a quick trot.

Ladies are dropping like flies from the trip out dancing. There is already noise about just not going.

Man I feel whiny and disappointed today. I get why they are making the choice. I don’t think they are wrong. I don’t think they are rejecting me. They have very busy lives and this isn’t shit they do. It doesn’t fit.

I get it.

Waaa. Waaa. Waaaaaaaaa. The Waaaambulance is coming to get me. Oh no!

I am like 80% satisfied with the door to the kitchen. I was tired of baking in the sun so I just stopped after a while. The geese could use more accent coloring but I wasn’t up for dealing with getting out a bunch of different paints again. It was too hot.

OOh! The mortgage is finally below $200,000! Yay! (Not way lower… but it is a milestone.)

I broke for lunch. Now I don’t know what I was really thinking about. Time to go do something else.