I’m addicted to love. I seriously am. If I have a dominant addiction in this life that drives me… it is to the need to feel that cycle of falling in love.

I can maintain it with many people. I am fully present with whoever is in the room even as I have a fully fledged monsoon of feelings for more people than I care to count who aren’t in the room.

My shrink says, “You are very polyamorous for all you say you aren’t. That “love” bit… you aren’t just open.”

I love my friends. I love hard with an intensity and devotion that lasts for years, decades if people let me. I rarely end a relationship and never without cause. The cause usually has to be pretty extreme. I mean, I fade out of social groups and lose contact because of that… but that’s not severing a relationship.

I do move on pretty easily. I’m restless and I don’t settle well. I am shocked I’ve stayed in one house for ten years.

Want to know how I find out people don’t read that carefully? I talk about them a lot and they miss most of it. Hilarious. Deity was all, “Wait… I was in the doghouse?” My therapist was worried about the intensity of my NRE with you, yes. She thought it was inappropriate given that she wants me to be a swinger. She has strong opinions about what is appropriate for my marriage and emotional connections outside the marriage are a problem in her mind.

Noah has varying opinions. Mostly what he’s saying is, “You’ve picked really good guys.” Yeah. I have. I have pretty good taste… much to my shock and amazement…

I think it is because of my early disloyalty. I tried so many people I know better how to go for nicer people. I’ve dated assholes. I’m good. No more.

I really like the people I have in my life. I like how they treat me.

I think this falling in love business is partially a thing because I used to go through these reuniting/falling in love/leaving cycles with my mom. I was always trying to get the spark back and failing. So I’d find someone else to fall in love with for a while to help me deal with the fact that she couldn’t really love me all the time.

I’m not blaming my behavior on my mom. I’m saying I think this pattern started early and it was initially related to my mom.

I’m trying to get a handle on the scope of the problem, not blame someone else. There are pieces of this I should probably work on and pieces of it that are absolutely integral to my core personality and I don’t want to change it. I like that I am a much more loving person than average.

Let’s be clear here: me bringing a friend from out of state to stay in my house for almost three weeks while we intensely bond and talk about deep intimate topics… that’s an emotional affair too.

I was talking to my shrink about the challenging parts of having longer term house guests and she said, “Oh have you learned your lesson now about inviting strangers into your home? You’ll never do this again, right?”

I said: “Oh no! I will totally do this again! I have learned so much! I feel so honored. I’m having so much fun. This is a wonderful experience.”

She blinked at me.

What? That’s not weird, right?

I am absolutely going to invite strangers into my home so we can bond again. Duh. It’s awesome.

I feel like such an asshole. I told Noah: ok fine. I won’t see the Quiet One because I’m not allowed to add another person who wants solo dates to the roster right now. So I’m going to fill up Mardi Gras with the folks you don’t mind. Folks who don’t mind group play. Folks who are allowed to be a major focus of my sexual life going forward because Noah doesn’t find them threatening.

He did say that he might ask for a break from (insert name) after Mardi Gras for a time. That seems… understandable.

I told him I would like to ask for another Mardi Gras someday. He says wait till he sees how he feels when this is over. Then we’ll decide if it is five, ten, or more years away. Or never. We’ll see.

That seems fair.

My shrink says I ask way too much of Noah in asking him to tolerate my promiscuity and I need to work harder on making friends.

I said, “Time’s up. Talk to you later.”

I have more friends than anyone I know. I love you all. I’m grateful for you. The intensity I like… people don’t do that without fucking, mostly. Noah proposed that we could look around the asexual community for an intense, drama ridden emotional affair.

Err, that actually sounds fun.

I am going to have a good Mardi Gras.

My friendships go in boxes and I’m not the only one who gets to decide the categorization. I signed on to an enmeshed marriage. I have to consider Noah’s feelings. Even though sometimes I kind of want a vacation from that responsibility (see earlier cheating and bad faith negotiating).

Which isn’t fair and I know it sucks.

Noah likes to talk about how we picked the high intensity version of parenting and given how much we like our kids…. it is worth the outpouring of energy. We’ve made fantastic little people. And we really want to make more.

We picked the high intensity version of marriage, too. Given that I left on the road trip 13 months ago… it’s not a stretch to say I’ve been “on vacation” from my marriage for over a year now.

I need to change that. Noah has been more than fucking patient. He has been supportive and mostly of good cheer in his interactions with me. Because I need that from him.

He really needs some payback for that. I gave him nine really good years then he got a whole shitty year and counting. That sucks.

I’m kinda a shitty wife.

fuck.

Noah is afraid I will do what I did with my Owner. Where I was there… then I stopped paying attention and I wasn’t. Reasonable fear. I kinda think I have more to tie me to this life. But those ties haven’t stopped me from being a selfish asshole in a lot of ways.

Noah and I were talking about the need to reinvent ourselves. When I need to express myself in a different way to the people around me because I have changed I usually need to find some kind of new relationship (or several) to help me through that metamorphosis. I’m not self driven, only I kinda am? I know how to hunt for the support I need.

I am very good at reinventing myself in front of someone at speed using only carefully selected stories from my life.

My life is complex. Long time readers who are friends tell me it is interesting watching how I tell the stories in different ways over time. I’m sure it is. I definitely drift in my interpretation of the “facts”. Who is to blame? What was I feeling? Oh my opinions drift. Which is part of why I record it. So if later there is a major rewriting in my head folks around me can say, “Whoa there.”

Useful to outsource your memory like this.

I think I am too impulsive/compulsive to be able to pull off life long monogamy. I think that journey is not for me. But how can I go on this journey and stop being such an asshole to Noah? And he’s an asshole right back. Let’s be clear. We suck at being polyamorous together. When we date we are so rude. It’s like we lose the ability to hold the mental model of what is ok for one another when we start reinventing ourselves for a new love.

But we don’t do it at sex parties. Cause we are there together to do our thing. And I think I do less of it on group dates? I know he does.

My shrink gave me the name of bars for picking up women for threesomes. Because that is less emotionally fraught than what I do in her opinion.

We are going out of town in a few hours. I’m not bringing my computer and I need to mostly stay off my phone. My hands god damn hurt. We are going to Santa Barbara and Monterey. Noah is going to have his first days at the home office (in Santa Barbara) and we are breaking up the journey home.

My life is blessed beyond all reasonable expectation and measure. I’m a lucky person.

Why am I so ungrateful? It isn’t about ungrateful. It is about insatiable. It is about no end of want and need.

I am grateful.

But how many hours a day can I fucking perform grateful?

ugh

Right now there are a bunch of dates in my calendar with ?’s next to them because I offered dates to folks. When I get responses to my emails there will be another round of emails.

Fine. If I’m mostly going to have to calm the fuck down after Mardi Gras, let’s do this.

It’s like the good old days.

It is hilarious to me how I can carry this glee and anticipation and joy about what I will share right along side all the wicked grief for what I can’t have.

I’m a complicated woman.

On the drive up I listened to this song on repeat. On the way home I listened to this song.

I know I need to turn to Noah. I know I owe him that. But what do I owe me? I think I owe me learning how to be a good wife to the best husband I know. The degree of guilt and shame I will carry over letting him down cannot be overstated.

I god damn owe Noah.

I need to fall in love with Noah over and over.

And I’ll still have my emotional affairs. But they can’t make Noah feel like he is dying.

I think what I have with Sarah is basically an emotional affair with occasional play. I think I have a platonic long-term partnership with the Bonus Parents. We are sharing a lot of life-work. Because support is awesome.

I mean… I could demean my relationship with Sarah and say we are “friends”. But I have a lot of fucking friends. I’ll tell you that this is special. We have worked very consciously to grow into the shape we need to be to be friends. It hasn’t been easy or natural a lot of the time and we’ve fucked up. But we keep trying because it’s a really god damn intense relationship.

And Noah isn’t real interested in asking me to change this. So yeah, I’ll keep having my emotional affairs. I’m not listing them all here. Just, can’t. That’s too complicated. But there are the really major characters. Sarah has been in my life for as long as Noah. We met at right around the same time. All because of this dude who liked to date the same girl as my Owner. Life is funny. (Not that I’m saying that this dude chased girls because my Owner liked them. But they had an uncanny pattern through multiple cities in different states.)

And to the best of my knowledge none of the connections there are very active any more with that man. I think everyone I am close to who knew him only knew him temporarily. Long enough to find me.

I met a lot of people in the last six months of my relationship with my Owner right as I turned 23. A surprising number of them are still in my life. Sarah. Noah. Daddy.

Random aside from couples therapy. I was talking about how hard of a time I have had with how vanilla the sex in our marriage has been. (It’s complicated.) The therapist nodded along. Then Noah mentioned Daddy/daughter play. The therapist kinda whipped his neck to look at me and said, “You do Daddy/daughter play and you think your sex isn’t kinky?” (Or some variation of that. I’m mis-phrasing slightly because I can’t remember.)  I did that duck my head thing and was all, “It’s all about perspective… for me it’s kinda barely hitting the scale.” His eyes went wide.

What? That’s not weird, right?

I’m an extreme mother fucker, ok?

Where’s the degradation? Where’s the crying? How can you even tell you are having sex?! I mean really.

A little Daddy/daughter play during sex doesn’t even feel kinky to me. Your Mileage May Vary.

I’ve kinda had an unusual life. A little bit.

No… I don’t get to have a permanent hall pass to stop and sleep with someone on the way home from therapy. Even if those hours are covered by babysitting while he’s working. Sigh.

Yeah… I know.

Sigh.

I could be a lot of things in life. I chafe at the boundaries and limitations of the life I chose. I don’t want to make a different choice… but I chafe anyway.

I’m a brat.

In retrospect, even the agony of arguing for the past few months… it was fun. I don’t want to do it again any time soon. But I think we learned a lot. We managed to change things in our marriage in ways I needed them to change. We started a lot of kinds of play and interacting I’ve been asking for over a long time period.

It’s complicated. I’m not sure I done wrong. Not completely. Maybe my asshole tendencies serve good purpose? At least this is what I try to tell myself.

Hey, we grow…

I really should try to sleep a little more before we get up to go on this drive. It’s a long drive. A 4.5-5 hour drive. And we want Noah to be to work by about 10. We are leaving at 4:30. And I mean leaving. I should add blankets and pillows to the car while the other grown ups are taking kid loads. *note to self

We should stop and get gas and ice on the way out of town. We don’t have much ice.

I’m not actually trying to justify my asshole behavior, for the record. I know I’m being awful. I’m being selfish in a short term way instead of my normal long term way. No one is perfect…

I needed things to change. When I need things to change often I start breaking shit. Noah is scared because it looks too much to him like our marriage is the next thing I need to break.

I really don’t think so. Especially not if we can have lovely periodic group dates with friends and go to sex parties and in five or ten years I can have another Mardi Gras (maybe–if this goes well).

I mean good grief. How much can a slutty person ask of their spouse? That’s damn generous.

It isn’t polyamory. But we never said we were. We have stayed pretty close to that. I lose my shit. It’s not ok for me to date and for me to require him not to date. So here we are.

Noah points out that he probably could deal with polyamory but it would mean ending the super enmeshed thing we have and him seriously putting that energy into other people.

Oh fuck no.

When Noah drops his mental model of me he starts making choices that hurt me a lot. Ditto. It’s complicated.

I can get another 45 min of sleep, surely…

Goodnight. I’ll talk to y’all in a few days.

I went to an open relationship discussion last week and the topic was on “Safer Spaces” and what that means to people. Ok, sure. That could have been interesting. I don’t know how much to say without breaking confidentiality. But I’m going to say a few things.

The small group discussion I was part of was interesting, I think mostly because I was the only full blooded white person so we talked about actual unsafe situations and how to cope. Noah says his subgroup… didn’t go well.

Noah is not exactly Mr. Social Justice Warrior or anything. He’s a rich white dude. But even he was cringing at the level of entitlement and cluelessness.

The proposal was made that safer spaces aren’t good spaces because not everyone is supposed to talk in every safer space. Sometimes het cis white men aren’t supposed to talk. Instead we should have “brave spaces” where everyone is allowed to talk and people just have to put their big kid panties on and deal.

I kind of went hot and said, “That’s a way to privilege the voices of people who already have the most power and ensure that underserved populations never feel safe.”

If I as a rich white person felt this was not a safe place… well…

I don’t want to go to a “brave space” where I’m going to have to listen to the usual opinions that make me very uncomfortable. I hear them all the time. Like, I don’t feel like I get away from those opinions much at all. I go to safer spaces to get away from the opinions that make me uncomfortable all day long.

I said that saying that all voices have to be equally heard at all times is like saying All Lives Matter. If you truly believe that all lives matter you will bloody well say Black Lives Matter because they are the ones in crisis.

I left feeling like I don’t ever need to go back. Which probably isn’t a fair evaluation of the group in general. But Noah and I left feeling like… yeah… we don’t need to spend more energy there.

Which is kind of a bummer. Talking about relationship stuff is tricky and hard. I’d like to have more spaces to do that. Not that space.

There are lots of times and spaces where I am supposed to be quiet. That’s ok. I make other people hella uncomfortable and sometimes they don’t want to deal with that.

I think that is just.

Why is Noah worth so much? Why is Noah worth not dating other people? I need to remind myself of that right now.

Noah is my best friend. Noah is the best friend I have ever had. Noah pays attention to me at the expense of having almost anything else in his life because I need so much attention that he just doesn’t have a lot going spare after me.

It is partially my fault that Noah doesn’t have friends. I wear him the fuck out.

Why Noah? Because when sex with Noah is on it is the best of my life. When it isn’t ok I get very cranky and that’s maybe not fair. It isn’t always Noah’s fault. Sometimes he is being an inconsiderate bastard, yes, but as he points out it has improved a lot.

No he hasn’t gotten to perfect yet. But he’s come a long way.

He really has improved: in play, in sex, in taking care of me, in being supportive… in every area. He has not slacked off. Not on anything. Not really. He’s not perfect. He fucks up. He hurts me. But it isn’t because he doesn’t care and it isn’t because he isn’t trying.

It’s because he came into this kind of a broken mess too.

Noah was broken long before I met him. Noah came into this marriage believing he wasn’t really worthy of love too. Noah spent most of his life feeling unloved and not accepted too. Only he did it in just a few places with just a few people so he calcified differently.

Noah didn’t grow up with the eternal promise of hope in new people. I did. New people mean different things to me than to him. Noah grew up in a small xenophobic town where he was hated and reviled. He was different all his life and they knew it and hated him for it.

But I love him for it. And that has allowed him to blossom.

Noah is a much bigger (I don’t mean in size) person than he was when I met him. He’s focused and determined. He is centered and more happy.

I am too. Noah gave me a center. He gave me a home and safety and being known. No one had ever wanted to know me before Noah.

I mean, I had friends and lovers. Don’t get me wrong. People “knew” me. But when I wrote my first book and old friends read it… most of them were shocked. Which means they had known me for a very long time without knowing much about me. I’m hard to know.

Why am I stepping out? It’s complicated. Part of it has to do with trying to accommodate a role I can’t actually sustain without outside assistance. I can’t be just “on” all the time sexually in my day to day life. Cleaning my house and playing with my kids just doesn’t do that for me.

Hunting does.

But hunting is hurting Noah so very much. He’s scared. Hunting is all about enjoying NRE. (New Relationship Energy)  For all that I may burn with the energy of the sun… I can’t actually shine on many people very well.

Maybe I’m more like my mother than I’d hope. Only I can manage to take care of more than one child at a time. I’m sure I’m not being fair to my mother.

I’m not really being fair to anyone lately.

Why this marriage?

Because I think that if I manage to learn how to get my needs met and be a genuinely good partner to Noah I will be a better person than I can manage any other way. I think Noah offers me more impetus for changing than anyone else. I think that Noah is the only person who is going to spend the rest of my life gazing at me in adoration while saying, “You are awesome. Now get better.”

If you can’t look back on yourself eighteen months ago and say, “Wow I really sucked. You aren’t trying hard enough.”

That. The fact that it has been true. It has stayed true through ten years of marriage. If we look back on any given eighteen month period… we see dramatic improvement.

Do you know how amazing that is to me, Noah? That we both just… keep doing it. Because we stand near one another and ruthlessly dissect one another up one side and down the other. You are awesome. Now get better.

It’s a fuck ton of pressure. This shit is intense.

And we do it for and with each other. Pretty much every step of the way.

Why this marriage? Because being Krissy Gibbs has been the absolute happiest I have been. This identity, this relationship is what gave me wings. R doesn’t want me to feel like I owe Noah anything and I get that. I totally support her having that opinion.

I owe Noah a lot. And he owes me a lot. And we like it that way.

When you are constantly trying to get better, you need to have support in changing. Support in changing is usually not comfortable. It usually fucking sucks.

I don’t know how to motivate someone to change gently. If you have tips, I’ll listen. I’m kinda like an anvil dropping on your head. Alright biotech. This is how it needs to be.

I’m that subtle.

Time to go again.

I woke up at about 2:30 in the morning. Noah woke up a few minutes after me. We’ve been up talking since. So four hours of talking this morning. I told y’all we’d get up to at least 200 hours of negotiating on this. At the rate of 2-8 hours/day… we are getting there.

I can see what Noah means when he says I’m killing my marriage. I don’t think it is working quite how he thinks, but I think it is happening. I have watched Noah cry more in the past few months than I think he has cried in the whole rest of his life put together.

It isn’t just me who is hurting. I am hurting Noah.

I have a list of done me wrongs. I have things that have been happening for years that hurt me very much.

I need support. It isn’t fair that I need more than Noah can provide or that my friends can easily provide.

It sounds like my choices are get the support I want and deal with Noah dating and having NRE and he gets to go be all lovey dovey with someone else while I’m pregnant, sick, and miserable…

Or I choose to not get enough support. Those are my choices.

There isn’t really an option C.

Given that part of what Noah is saying when he asks me to get pregnant again is, “Maybe we can be better to each other this time” because I have acres of bitterness over the amount of support I got during the first four pregnancies….

Choosing to shove him towards other people is going to hurt me. I’m going to end up spending my entire pregnancy cut up. Because people saying they will babysit me during Noah’s dates…

That’s not going to work. Because the idea that I would turn to someone else when I am grieving like that is so laughable it’s not worth bringing up. I will tell you to get the fuck out of my house so I can deal with my feelings. No you can’t fucking hug me are you fucking crazy?

I don’t think that I am ever going to feel safe enough depending on someone else if what I need is cutting. No one else is there enough. You can’t be. You will let me down and then I will be screwed so I’m better off not depending on you.

I started this because yes, I felt like I was going to explode. Noah says I said I felt like I was going to die. I believe I said it. I don’t know that I meant soon. I did/do feel like I’m going to explode and do things I won’t like.

My life is very carefully constrained. Yes Noah, I know yours is too. I don’t think you are starting off from a place where you are as prone to go make bad decision after bad decision after bad decision like I do. My life is differently constrained.

When I feel like I’m going to explode, what does it mean? It means I think I’m going to cheat because I can’t be good anymore. It means I can’t be good anymore and I’d rather lose control and go fuck people then lose control and be a raging bitch at home.

I’m scared of how much pain I can bear. Because my tolerances go up and down and when my tolerance is up I sign on for a lot of pain. When my tolerance goes down I’m trapped.

We tolerate group play without feeling like we need to pull away and go off by ourselves to die. We enjoy group play. It doesn’t feel existentially terrifying in the same way.

I think that even though I want to quite a bit, I shouldn’t go sleep with the Quiet One tomorrow. It would be our first time. It would be bonding. It would increase the chance that I would hurt him really badly along with hurting Noah really badly. Yeah, I’m afraid that needs to be a no.

Shit.

Because if Noah goes off and does the NRE thing…

I am not going to bear that well. I’m just not. Let’s be realistic here. And if that happens when I’m pregnant and already disordered and fragile?

Let’s think about how well that has the potential to go and think about how poorly that has the potential to go.

How fucking well am I going to handle my only safety in the entire world going off to love on someone else while I’m pregnant?

Will I or the baby live another nine months? Will I live through that long enough to dump a third kid on him before offing myself so he can raise the baby with his new partner?

I honestly can’t say. Which makes it a stupid position to put myself into.

Why do we want this baby so much? We keep talking about it. Because we do. Because we look at the two kids we have and we both feel like that is the pinnacle good experience of our lives. These are the best things we’ve ever done or made or been near. We could have more of that? Please. Yes. Please.

What does that mean about my sex life? Oh it’s complicated.

Am I going to explode still? I don’t know. Pregnancy will change the hormone balance again. To what? Fuck if I know.

What I know is I can’t go through a lot more mornings where Noah sobs on my chest and tells me that his god is telling him that he isn’t good enough and it is killing him.

I like being Noah’s religion. If you are going to be a god you need to take it seriously and behave honorably and I am not doing so.

I don’t think that lifelong monogamy is possible for me. Which doesn’t mean I’m allowed to date.

I’m not polyamorous. I’m slutty. I have a partner who can bear a certain amount of that and no more. I can’t have a serious boyfriend. That’s just a limit for my life. It’s not to say that I can’t have friends I play with.

But Noah can’t bear how much attention I’m paying to the Quiet One. It hurts him and I have to stop. I can’t treat this like a retaliation for my list of done-me-wrongs.

If I’m doing something because I have to that is different from doing things to get even.

Given how eloquently Noah has expressed the pain this is causing him…….

It hurts him as much as it hurts me when he is dating. Sometimes I get the impression that the black hole inside of him isn’t a lot smaller than the one inside of me.

I need to not destroy Noah.

I think I need to have some variety of sex in my life but I don’t need to destroy Noah in the process. Not when he has such liberal boundaries around group play.

Having group sex doesn’t cause either of us to feel like we are dying. Either one of us going off to date solo makes the other feel like we aren’t needed any more and we should make ourselves small until we don’t exist any more.

For me that involves a lot of cutting. I don’t think his coping will be so flamboyant but it won’t be better.

I want to stay married to my best friend. I don’t want to give up pieces of him because I feel like they belong to other people now. I will though if he starts another relationship and goes off and does things with them that I like. That won’t be for me any more no matter how much I like it.

There is no fair here. Nothing like fair exists. But how much unfair can I shove on him in the name of balancing my own unfair?

fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Last night was a good example of both why I want to step out and why it is a problem. I’m not going to fill you in on all the details. I work very hard to make sure this blog is not a list of done-me-wrongs.

Suffice to say that our sex life continues to be complicated.

I’m going to freak out over Noah dating. This is more predictable than weather. I don’t think I’m a good person. I think he deserves someone better. Him going out and dating is going to be setting us up so that I feel my replacement is on deck and I don’t need to be here.

I’m scared.

I have spent my whole life looking for the flimsiest of justifications for why I don’t need to stick around. I have managed to not die, but I flirt with it every year.

I am going to struggle with feeling like I have any possible value at all when he goes and dates. Does that mean I think he should feel like his value is eliminated by my fucking other people? No. Of course not.

I’m a hypocrite and I’m selfish and I’m terrible. I know.

I don’t fuck other people because they are better than Noah. They aren’t. No one is better than Noah. I do it because I am absolutely driven by sex with new people. It provides energy and turn on and responsiveness that I just can’t get with a long term partner. But I can bring it back to my long term partner, if he lets me.

It isn’t Noah’s responsibility to live his life in a way that is trying to keep me from killing myself. That’s not something he can pursue as a goal. That has to come from me.

But I don’t now what would work to make me stop wanting to die. I don’t feel like this because of Noah. I feel like this because I feel like this. I don’t want to hold Noah hostage.

But I am genuinely terrified that I will feel like he found a better-than-me replacement and I should go. Someone who isn’t such a problem. Someone who isn’t so selfish and bad.

I know I don’t deserve Noah. There is too much good there for me to ever deserve him. I know he deserves better than me and I’m just waiting till he spots it so I’m not necessary.

Which isn’t fair. Which is holding him hostage. I’m not. I’m going to let him do whatever he wants to do. That’s what I do. I don’t really tell Noah no that much. That is a piece of our problem. I just… don’t think I’m worth defending. Until I explode and I say I can’t follow rules anymore because we’ve had rules for years that are hurting me and I can’t keep doing this.

Then I’m the problem. I’m the problem. I’m the problem. Because I’m handling the problem so fucking badly.

I have been following rules. I have not done anything inappropriate near my children. I stay gone for very limited periods of time and I return when I say. I spanked before I had permission and I pushed the limits on using gloves for fingering. I asked about a possible exception to barriers and otherwise I have strictly followed the rules since then. As soon as Noah says he wants things to be special… I put it on lock down.

Do you know how hard it is for me to not ask permission to orgasm? I’ve done it during the majority of sex I’ve had since I was 20 years old. But Noah says no. So I’m figuring it out.

But I have no respect for my marriage or boundaries, right?

If I look in retrospect at my hunting pattern over the last five months…. ok now I see a lot more that seems obvious. I see how I’m looking for support and I don’t know where to get it from. I see that I want to figure out what I want because trying to use my words with Noah hasn’t gotten me there.

I like being chased. The vast majority of my hunting is done with me chasing. Which is not my preference. So most of the folks I’ve seen over the last few months have been folks where I had to do the asking and initiating and I push for what I want. In many ways I got the opposite of what I wanted. Because I’m good at that. Getting what I want and the opposite at the same time by the same route.

I have shaken the tree of my life as hard as I can. I turned up with three people who are asking for time.

I think I need to notice things like that. Other people won’t turn down time that I offer… which isn’t the same thing.

There’s a huge difference in the amount of wanting.

I really don’t like feeling like I’m pushing myself on folks who are lukewarm. It is getting closer to being a phobia.

Two of the three are pretty darn happy with group play. That’ll be most and maybe close to all of how we play going forward. Only the darn mostly-vanilla-switch won’t have group sex. But he’s satisfied with rare sex and hanging-out-with-Noah-in-the-vicinity.

Noah feels I want to take away half or more of my focus from our marriage. I don’t believe that is true long term. I believe that it has felt true for a period of time. I don’t think it is really that I’m obsessed with strange dick but that I’m trying to figure a lot of stuff out about myself as fast as possible and I’ve never been able to do that without bouncing off of new people. I’ve never been able to learn a lot about myself quickly without intensity and do you know how hard it is to talk people into intense connection without sex?! I scare the shit out of people.

But in post coital glow I have them trapped. Answer my demanding and invasive questions. Muahahaha.

Ahem.

I know I need to find a way to not feel like Noah dating is a threat to my existential right to exist. I know.

I’m not blowing things up for shits and giggles. I’m blowing things up because I can’t continue. I know that you are going to need more support going forward and I have to support you getting that.

I know that the only way you bond with people is through sex. We match. Sigh.

Ok, I don’t only bond with people through sex. I actually have a huge network of vanilla/platonic relationships. I am deeply bonded with a lot of people without having to fuck them.

You aren’t.

I have managed to piece together a support network for years. I need more support than I get from it… but I do have a support network. It is incredible and vast.

You don’t have that. I tried other paths. I did. I fucking did.

I don’t think I will long term have a strong need to have tons of outside sex. I think that sometimes I will need to learn a lesson. I won’t know what lesson until I’m done.

Part of what I learned was where to lean harder on my support network because I saw who stepped up and said, “Yes. Me.”

And my support network grew. I don’t think I’m losing anyone.

This experiment was rocky. My experiments often are. Personal growth hurts.

Breakfast is ready. I should go in.

We are at a point where Noah needs to talk about how he is feeling. He is afraid to talk to anyone we know because he will be describing me in unflattering ways and he feels he can’t do that within my support network.

I disagree.

I think Noah needs to go find some people who are his friends, my friends, or our friends and talk some shit. He needs some validation that I did shitty stuff. He’s feeling terrified of even admitting to himself how hurt he is.

He needs support and it can’t come from me because I’m the problem.

Noah totally does that man thing where 100% of his social support is supposed to come from his wife. This is not sustainable.

Noah is afraid to tell people that he thinks I’m a liar. I think that if I’m a liar we have bigger problems than people knowing that I do it.

Specifically he thinks I’ve lied a lot about the nonmonogamy stuff. I’ve said I want to not do x then done x almost immediately.

Yeah, that’s accurate.

I’m having a fucktastically hard time figuring out what I want. And that is leading to a lot of yes/no/maybe that comes out like lies. I say I won’t do something then I do it. That’s a lie. That’s not like a lie that’s a lie.

I said I wouldn’t be having sex with my submissive then I did. I said I would look for people who wanted group play… I’m not having that great of success. I said I would barely see people and instead I’d rather like to see people a lot.

Yes. These are lies.

Noah… it’s ok to be honest about the ways that I’m hurting you. It’s not only ok, it should be treated as mandatory. Or our relationship is broken.

If you are so hurt you can use the word you used earlier today… you need to talk about your feelings baby. You are important. You are a main character. Your pain does matter.

I love you. I’m not done. I’m not leaving. I want you. I do want forever.

And yes. I know that means I’m going to have to share you too.

It is a dawning realization.

Today we are going to the Exploratorium before a potluck discussion tonight. I didn’t sleep enough. Too busy keeping Noah awake with sex.

I think I have managed to convince myself that attention and oxytocin are the best ways to get through this pregnancy. I’m already at a reduced pot rate because of my Abilify period. I hope to keep the reduced tolerance and maybe even slash it some more. I have to. So the ounce I have needs to last until the cruise. I will find a way to stretch this. It’s going to mean a lot of by-choice-not-smoking days. Yuck.

Uhm, luckily I have a number of dates in the middle of the day coming up so I won’t medicate till almost bedtime?

When I was pregnant last time I used pot as an emergency “I’m about to fucking explode” helper and I didn’t love it but I didn’t feel that guilty. In the realm of drugs that doctors want me on for mental health problems… truly pot isn’t so bad. But I wasn’t using how I use now. That didn’t get going till after breastfeeding. If I was using 1/8 every few weeks I wouldn’t care at all about my usage while pregnant and breastfeeding. At this point I’ve had periods where I use 1/8 in two days and that’s not ok with me.

So I have to change it. Ok. That’s a changeable problem.

Also to work on: security/stability. I need to work on how to feel like Noah loves me as much as he does so I can handle him dating. I need to figure out how to get Noah dating to not feel like an existential threat.

That’s a lot of what I need to worry about with regards to this upcoming journey we want to do together. How can I feel safe? This is what I need to do. I need to work on this feeling of unsafe.

Ok. Everyone is ready to go.

I’m looking forward to today. It should be really awesome.

Today I feel very zen. Today I feel so happy and lucky. My life is intensely good. I may have complications and difficulty… but holy crud I’m feeling good and excited.

I feel happier than I have in a while. I’ve been off Abilify for two days. This is the third day. I’ve been off the Klonopin for a couple days longer. My mood is so much better. Hrm.

What does it mean to negotiate in bad faith? Does it mean someone knows they are saying something they can’t live up to? Does it mean negotiating and then changing your mind? Does it possibly include not knowing what you want?

Noah doesn’t want to think I’ve been doing bad things. He wants to believe I am doing something that is necessary on a primal level or I wouldn’t do it.

Today in therapy we talked a lot about how I’ve been fucking up. That wasn’t the way Noah wanted to phrase it, but that’s a lot of what it was. We are waiting to see just how far I’ll strain the enmeshment.

And then he will go date so he doesn’t feel so small and ignored. Ok.

How do we support one another through the changes that are coming? Because changes are coming. We aren’t going to do things how we have done them. We are going to be different.

And what is that going to mean?

Noah’s right that he can’t just be the boring one. He needs to be fascinating too. And people who are hard to catch are fascinating. Shit.

So many appointments coming up. Individual therapy and couples therapy and acupuncture and general practitioner and a groino. All in the next two weeks.

I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. I swear.

I don’t see a path forward that will not involve dating for both of us.

I only see the need for more support and love. We are not enough. Both of us are inadequate. We’ve been trying for adequacy for ten fucking years and here we are. Both happy but not as happy as we could be. Both of us are content knowing the other is giving all they have to give. And we want more.

Noah is being super generous and he’s going to wait a few months and let me figure out more of a pattern before he starts seriously pursuing someone. Because I want to be chased… and Noah is going to have to chase. Which takes a lot of energy. Which means I’ll lose a lot of his energy.

Shit.

Noah and I are going to need to figure out an additional all night babysitter. Preferably out of our house in the next month or so. We’ll need one more night. Anyone?

There’s a thing we need to do together and I don’t know when it can get scheduled.

I’ve been looking at the stats breakdown instead of just the page views on wordpress.com. Because of course. I get between 34-ish to 49-ish people per day. Rarely fewer even more rarely more.

And I know most of you. I also know that there are people on the internet who vow that they’ve followed me for years because they don’t know me and they hate me.

So you people who hate me, I ain’t talking to you. I’m talking to the small, fervent band of friends I have. People who wade through hundreds, sometimes thousands of pages of writing every year to know me. Holy tomato. I think there are at least three dozen people who are that loyal. There are maybe four dozen who keep up consistently if not daily.

Thank you for using enough room in your brain on me to know that I am not consistent. I appreciate it when you point it out to me. I appreciate it when you point out, “You’ve really changed how you talk about ______.” I appreciate the reminders. “You say ______.” I do. But I like hearing it in your voice. Your voice is so nice.

That’s part of why my children are so fucking bossy. I need help making an inside voice.

I am both loved and lucky.

I have twelve dates scheduled. If I manage sex twice on at least half those dates (likely) That’s at least eighteen times for sex during Mardi Gras. I have other date hours available that might get filled. Let’s say at least twenty times from other folks. So then we get into the fact that Noah and I have been having sex 25-30-ish times a month.

I might hit fifty times during Mardi Gras. I think I’ll keep track.

Time to stop thinking about fun. Breakfast is ready. There’s a full house of kids. Their ages are: 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, & 4. I’m having so much fun.

We managed to move up our joint therapy session. We go to the first one this Thursday. I’m happy about this. We need some help with what we are doing.

I need to do some art around intentions. And that breaks my head. Ewwww. I’m that fucking woo woo.

Yes, motherfucker I am. Nobody is giving it to me as an assignment so it’s ok. I’m doing it for me. To organize my thoughts.

Who do I want to be at the end of this journey. What do I want my relationship to be like? What do I want my life to be like?

We shouldn’t finish this process till the remodel is done. Oh shit. I’ll call in the morning.

I’m pre-planning Mardi Gras. Like I do. If you aren’t on my schedule and you wish you were… well… the window will soon close. For a few years more than likely. (Which isn’t forever.) I’m just not going to be able to find time for new people. So uhm, yes. I’m not going to hunt for more people to fill time with. But I’m not done booking Mardi Gras.

Here’s my passive aggressive state of affairs.

I like being chased.

If you can’t be bothered to chase even a little then you don’t want me bad enough.

I gotta be realistic about my energy.

And I’m there for sex. To be clear. I have one month to uhh, err, burn it out of my system for a while.

After that I’m going to go do that breeder thing. Which means you are going to need to want to hang out with me for my sparkling wit and sobbing countenance (I don’t feel good for most of pregnancy) if you want to spend time with me.

Cheers, motherfuckers.

I sorta feel like the remodel from hell exists in its form to give me time to think about the different email lists/calendars I want to have for how to invite people over: vanilla friends for hangout time, dates, sex parties, vanilla friends for parties.

This weekend I was told I held court at the party I was at. Oh you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

Just wait.

Soon my house will be ready. Like. The kind of ready I’ve been working on for years.

I want you to see my happy place.

I am lucky; I am lucky; I am lucky.

Noah is very opposed to thinking of this as a jubilee. That makes it sound (to him) like “Congratulations on suffering through ten years of sex with Noah. Your reward is fucking other people.” For some reason Mardi Gras (for him, near as I am able to parse) is working out to mean: “I have followed rules for ten years and I need a break from rules.” That is feeling less scary? If this is more about my impulsivity and less about needing to be rewarded for something…. I don’t know exactly.

But I’m kinda guessing. Don’t trust me.

Medicating. That’s a lot of why I write so much. I keep myself company while I medicate.

Although I should go work on the calendar.

doo dee doo

Ok, all the people who have asked have been added. All the hangout hours I have until the cruise are posted. That’s not all my babysitting time, but the kids don’t want me inviting people over during babysitting time much this summer. They told me so. I’m going to negotiate for only three days a week of no people/going anywhere in the fall. We’ll see if I win or I have to compromise.

And I had breakfast and it’s time to have a day now.

Other than the remodeling situation I really shouldn’t complain about my life. I’m having ups and downs, yeah. But my life is so fantastically good.

I was reminded today when I dropped by a party with folks I’ve known for more than half my life. Things are good. I can’t complain. There are things we are working on, but… I can’t complain.

Do you know what my big personal problem is? When I’m an asshole to Noah sometimes there are consequences in the form of him being hurt.

Yup.

He’s not locking me down. He’s being hurt. And he’s talking to me and trying to find ways for me to hurt him less while still getting my needs met.

No complaining, wench.

I love bleeding. The second day of bleeding is blissful. I don’t feel so psycho and depressed and anxious and suicidal.

At the same time, I sat in the shower today and counted on my fingers: July, August, September, October… maybe November… hopefully not December…..

I am a fantastically lucky woman. I really am. In this year Noah is letting me have the lovers I want and the baby I want.

Holy shit my life is blessed.

I went through and revamped a calendar that existed for the household anyway. I’ve added the folks who said, “I want to know when I could theoretically drop in” so far. If you want to be added tell me.

I will… update it over the next few days. There’s only one date on it so far. I can probably figure out which days are available for the rest of the summer in just a few minutes since the kids want 5 days a week at home with no guests.

But I need to look at Google calendar and the white board and the written calendar. My life is complicated. It’ll take a few days.

Especially given who popped up and said “Oh do it!” Yes. I’ll do it. My platonic friends want permission to drop in? Yes. Yes. Yes. Noah doesn’t have the same feels about y’all. Yes. You want to come over, Oh yes.

Platonic friends are awesome friends because then I can’t be told I’m ditching all my friends for lovers.

Yessssssssssss

(I don’t want to actually ditch my friends for lovers and I really don’t want to be accused of it. I just went and spent a weekend with Sarah. P came to dinner. I AM STILL SEEING FRIENDS, DAMNIT.)

I saw lots of friends today. See. I can do it.

I saw folks I have known for almost twenty years. Way more than half my life now; we reflected how happy we are about that fact.

As always I feel gross about medicating. I feel guilty about the time spent. I feel gross for how much I smell. Oh man.

But I need to sleep hard tonight. With luck it’ll be a good night. Tomorrow is semi-restful then my Bonus Kids come over. Wheeeee. Wednesday we will head to Santa Cruz after my Bonus Kids are picked up. Tonight’s sleep matters.

Because I’m still using this space to be honest with Noah… I’m still talking to the Quiet One a lot. He hasn’t been scared off by our various drama yet. No one else is frequent. Everyone else is kinda getting scared off, I think. But I’m guessing and I shouldn’t pretend I can read minds. The Professor gets mad at me when I do.

We’ve only been talking for a month. We’ve had a few make-out dates and that is as far as it has gone.

I like him. He’s another one my shrink is going to flip out about when I come clean. My shrink is now happy that “Deity seems to have such great respect for my marriage.” Sigh. I could wish for a hair less respect. Well, not less respect. But… never mind.

Fuck. Not less respect. Just… I’m a greedy bitch. He’s hot. Noah was describing his perception of the visuals of me having sex with Deity. Apparently it is distinctive how much I enjoy it. Even to someone who is my absolute favorite person to have sex with. Even to someone who has seen me have sex with a lot of people.

I could wish Deity had more enthusiasm. But you take what you can get.

I think I understand why. But I’m… being me and filling in the blanks with what I’m guessing and that’s always fraught.

I mean… I am right sometimes.

I feel really guilty for how good it feels to be talked to this much. I’m trying to figure out the boundaries around it. There are going to be more boundaries. I can tell. But right now I’m still doing that tiptoe into someone’s personal space before I’ve hit the spiked wall… It’s… exhilarating.

His boundaries aren’t where I am used to them being. I’m wrong about every assumption. Shit. My mental model is going to grow slowly. I hope I am not too awful in the process.

I am so weary. But right this minute I feel blessed beyond all comprehension. Noah you are being generous beyond any expectation of generosity. Clearly… you love me. Or you wouldn’t be putting up with what you are putting up with.

Thank you, my love. Thank you for everything.

Seeing friends today was an interesting case study is oxytocin flooding from various sources. I hugged many old friends. Only kissed Noah, and I think barely. I did get an oxytocin boost. But it was nothing like a makeout session. Even just thinking about a makeout session is more flooding.

Kissing kissing kissing kissing.

There is a problem I’m going to have soon that I’m looking forward to. It is going to be a bit of a problem but I’ll just deal. It’ll be fine.

Ahem. *cough*

Somehow I suspect my sex life is going to be massively impacted by having guests in the next bedroom. Sigh.

This trip may be a chance for me to rest up for Mardi Gras. I keep telling Noah: Mardi Gras only lasts for a day… maybe a week depending on how you look at it. Not a month.

He wants me to do it for a month. Whatever I want. Whoever I want. Whenever I want. Uhm, following obvious prohibitions around kid boundaries. Any votes for how explicitly I document?

I now know my babysitting windows for that whole time period.

Ok I need sleep. G’night.

Every so often I catch up on Noah’s private writing. Mostly my rule for myself is I’m not allowed to get upset about what I find when I snoop. I totally failed yesterday.

Noah calls it “going limp”. I call it going to the dark place. All I can see is how bad I am. How much I hurt Noah among many other people. I can’t see why I should be allowed to continue to live to hurt people. It’s really hard for Noah when I do this.

I lashed out at more than one person yesterday. In more than one big, dramatic way. I am so sorry.

I’m hurting Noah. And part of that is because we are both choosing to be hurt by things that are scary.

Choosing to be hurt. Oh that makes me sound like a douche. But I’m hurt by Noah’s actions too. I’m not just saying it about Noah.

We want enmeshment without jealousy. How is that even possible?

I don’t know. But yesterday when I read that Noah thinks the enmeshment is just already dead because of what I have done… I lost it. I’ve already killed our marriage?! Then what in the fuck are we going to do? Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

He has since revised his commentary and said, “I was really angry”… which isn’t something I’m in a position to judge. He has also told me that I am dumb for wanting to just end relationships over him saying that. Ok he didn’t say dumb. But unwise to the point where he sent an email to someone I’m dating saying that I’m over reacting and please don’t take it too seriously.

Shit.Noah and I both have scared feelings about the future. We both want to make big dramatic gestures to fix things now. Guess what? That doesn’t work so well. I did email the therapist and say maybe waiting a month before our first joint session is dumb. We’ll figure it out sooner, somehow.

I am at the point where I basically think that if I have to lock down to monogamy again we probably shouldn’t have another baby because my big kids don’t deserve to have the weight of depression dropped on their head the way it would happen if I had another super isolated pregnancy. I don’t do well being alone and feeling trapped. It’s a horrifying feeling for me and I get so god damn sick. I’m going to need company this time.

Thank you Rose for the offer of Krissy sitting. I’ll take you up on it. I’ll take anyone up on it this time. I have to. I’ll have to tell the kids that they get their summer of 5 days a week off from people but when I’m pregnant… I get guests as much as I want.

If I want to get through another pregnancy with as much of a good mood as I manage most of the time with my kids… I need help. I am incompetent to manage such an emotional/chemical state alone. I am not truly a loner. I am not an introvert. Too much alone time eats me like a flesh eating bacteria. It hurts.

I know it isn’t fair how quickly it feels true. I know it isn’t fair how selfish I am once I start feeling this kick in. This is existential for me. This is at a soul level. I am so afraid of being alone.

But I do like my alone time. Ahhhhhh. But not too much.

Just enough to get my thoughts together. Then, more people please. I know this is hard on Noah. Noah wants allllllllll my energy. Sorta. Only then I overwhelm the shit out of him. We are both so very jealous. He’s working hard to get me to understand that he is about as jealous as I am he is just better at managing it.

After reading his journal entries I believe it a whole lot more. That’s an angry, sad man. I am so sorry, my beloved. I am so sorry that I am hurting you so much with my behavior.

I am saying that I want to not do x and then doing x right away. It is true. That isn’t your imagination. That’s happening.

I said I wouldn’t date anyone else who wasn’t willing to do group play. Then someone fell into my lap. It feels like a direct slap in the face to Noah. Cupid was supposed to be the only person I was seeing who didn’t want group play. Sigh.

But I don’t know how to turn down someone meeting me and seeing me as a delicious challenge to help manage. I don’t know how to say no to someone who says, “She seems crazy high maintenance and I’m here for it” to Noah. Yeah. I am. I am crazy high maintenance. And if you want to help, fuck yes.

I know you are cute and all and you are offering to do it platonically. Because you think that would assuage Noah’s or my nervousness. Awww, aren’t you cute. No that’s not going to help. Because it is how much I think about you. It is about the fact that even if you feel like you are sated because you get enough sex so you can have platonic relationships with people you are attracted to…. I don’t know what sated feels like. I want more sex. Even though sometimes I physically have to stop because I’m worn out. I still wish I could be having more. I curse the delicacy of my tissues.

Ahh, speaking of the delicate tissues. I started bleeding. Which would be enough by itself to explain going nutty yesterday. My hormones hate me so much. Yesterday was a “I should cut myself to shut up so I don’t drive out to the ocean and go for a permanent swim” day. PMDD sucks. It’s a known problem. For 5-10 days before bleeding there is intense urge to self harm and/or commit suicide. I tend to go back and forth with remembering to ignore my urges or thinking “But I’m thinking this because of LIFE SITUATION and that is different! See, I am a terrible person and I should be punished.”

Crazy high maintenance. And you want to sign up for that? Other folks are backing away slowly. It feels like they are smart to do so. I am a walking time bomb. Hopefully I will mostly hurt myself. Sigh.

I feel really bad but I don’t want monogamy any more. It was too hard. It was too isolating. I know it would be different with you working from home but it is a different kind of subtle rejection all day long. You are there and I can’t talk to you or I’m a problem.

Muh. That sucks.

I have to let you work. I know that you think it is shitty that I am so jealous of your working hours but … it’s not jealousy exactly. It’s me trying to figure out how to deal with my fucked up chemistry in all the hours you aren’t available. I still have to deal with me during that time and it’s hard.

I know that dealing with me is hard.

I know that I’m going to have to learn how to accept things changing in a lot of directions. I’m not the only one who needs support.

I know.

I’m prepared for it to hurt. And I need to get a whole bunch of plans in place for how to deal with my self harm urges.

I did reach out to a fellow self harm person and talked about it instead of doing it yesterday.

Where are my cookies?

Where are my chips for days abstinent? I didn’t do it because of a higher power. I’m trying to change this coping method because frankly I’d rather have connection than need to cut myself to remember that connection isn’t for me.

I’d rather have connection.

Thank you, Noah, for sending that email. Thank you for wanting to be nice to your pet even though I am bringing more strife into your life. I am.

You have trusted me for so long because I treated “I try” like “I will kill myself to get this done.” Since I started dating other people things haven’t gone like that. “I’ll try to only date people who want group play” didn’t last a week. Yes, that has been true of thing after thing. I’m being terrible about keeping my word. I am being so impulsive it is a serious problem.

You keep telling me that obviously I need this or I will die. I’m scared it is true. I am scared I need people available to connect with me more hours of the day than you have available. I use my friends for this as much as I am able. There are still gaps.

This is about me. This is about the caverning gaping maw of need in me. I need to be loved. I have a lot of not-being-loved to make up for. Decades. I know you do too Noah. I know you weren’t much more loved than I was, heck maybe less. I have always been able to inspire it in small ways from strangers. You grew up being universally loathed. You have learned to just not need anyone but me and the kids.

I haven’t. I need.

I hunger. I ache.

I want.

I want to feel worthy of being taken care of and right now I reject offers with a spiked mace. I have to change this aspect of myself. I don’t know how. But I have to figure it out anyway.

With luck I will be typing less for a while for good reasons. In just a few hours I go pick up a friend for a long visit at my house. They’ll be here 19 days and I bloody well hope I won’t be online much. But usually me going offline signals bad stuff and people get nervous and start pinging me. So, let me warn you.

Breakfast is almost ready. I didn’t completely wreck things yesterday. And today brings the promise of a new perspective to listen to. A completely different change of things to think about. I’m so happy.

I get to bring my friend to Wonderland. What a gift.