Holy shit. I don’t remember my last pregnancies that well. That’s a biological mechanism that causes folks to be interested in getting pregnant again. I don’t recall being suddenly overwhelmingly suicidal. I want to cut so badly. It was a conscious decision to not walk over to the wall and start beating my head during dance class when I kept making mistakes.

My self hatred is way up around 8/9. I feel like I went from mild anxiety to full bore intense depression and this is horrible.

Do you know how grateful I am to be having this experience at 35 instead of when I was younger? It’s scary and it’s overwhelming and it feels shitty, but I have a steady track in my brain saying, “These are disordered thoughts. You don’t have to do what these feelings are telling you to do. It’s ok to just wait. Don’t react. Just… cry. That’s ok. Crying is awesome.”

So I’ve been sobbing almost all day for a couple of days now.

I’m sleeping for shit. For a bit now I’ve been taking 50mg pills of pot twice a day. Once with breakfast (takes 2 hours to kick in, lasts 4-6ish hours) and one with dinner. Because I REALLY want my level lowered I have been only taking the breakfast dose for the past 3 days and as a result my sleep is shit. Insomnia like whoa. Pregnancy exhaustion is no match for how much god damn sedation my body needs in order to calm down and sleep.

I have a woo doctor appointment tomorrow. I have a dentist appointment today. I have an appointment with a new therapist today. They are primarily a gender specialist for Youngest Child, but before we get into all of that they are going to talk to Noah and I about ADHD and autism. Because frankly I would like to have that conversation.

I was up for hours crying about my student who died. This is such a terrible loss. Oh dear Claudia I love you. You were so beautiful and kind and fierce and loving and… so young. I’m having a hard time dealing with her loss. I know it’s harder on her family, especially her young children. I certainly don’t think my suffering is the part that matters here. But I’m really sad anyway. The only thing I’m looking forward to about the memorial is that many of my former students were good friends with her and I’m looking forward to being able to cry and hug other people who loved her who understand just how devastating this loss is. I am so grateful she became my friend and not just my student. I think I learned a lot more from her than she learned from me.

Also weird: I’ve initiated sex twice in the past week. I barely ever initiate sex lately. Mostly only around ovulation. But right now I feel like I could ride a fire hydrant. Even though I’m depressed and feel shitty. It’s a seriously weird feeling. I KNOW I didn’t have this feeling with any previous pregnancy and it makes me have questions about testosterone levels in my body versus estrogen levels. Not that Youngest Child is a girl, but they do have a body that is consistent with primarily having a lot of estrogen.

Of course the “Are you going to check gender” questions are going to start. Uhm, well, with my last birth we made a bad assumption about gender starting with birth. I don’t really want to make that mistake in utero. Seems ridiculous. I’m good. I can wait.

I am absolutely ecstatic about getting to meet this child.

And I can’t stop the drum beat in my head that goes, “You are stupid and worthless and bad. You only hurt people. Why do you want to add to that list?”

I did delete Twitter. I don’t need more reasons to type all day. I don’t know how I’m going to limit my blogging without losing my fucking mind.

I feel really excited that my pain levels have dropped down to 2/3. Even with an inadequate amount of sleep. Maybe it’s all the vegetables.

God I want vegetables.

THIS IS THE WEIRDEST PREGNANCY.

I ate three bowls of vegetable soups yesterday. More than one kind, obviously.

I want soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup, soup.

This is overwhelming.

Noah and I are having hard conversations about what safety means. What is adventure? How can someone be your life and an escape from your life? I don’t know but I know that for a while now I’ve been changing and I don’t even know how to talk about it.

Sex is different. I don’t want to be hurt all the time. I don’t want to take one for the team. I am not here to please you. And if that is what happens it fucks me up really badly. That’s not much like how I’ve been for most of my life. I’m ready to be done with being treated like a cheap whore no one has to respect. There are consequences in my body and I just can’t absorb them any more.

By the way, sex workers deserve better treatment than that. What the fuck.

I don’t think it is that I am completely over bdsm. But it’s hard to have Noah hit me. It feels like being treated “like I deserve” and that’s complicated and mostly bad.

I think I deserve so little and I already have so much. I am often tempted to encourage Noah to hurt me in ways that are… really not a good idea. Because I deserve it. Because I am a piece of shit and Noah is way nicer to me than I deserve.

That’s complicated and bad. It seems not-good to keep encouraging him to hurt me in ways that make me feel more like I should die.

I don’t know what the path forward looks like. I was detransitioning from the kid phase and now that is restarted with a bang. I don’t know what that means.

Also, because this kind of thing comes up during pregnancy, I’m at 176 lbs. Lighter than when I started either other pregnancy by 5-10 lbs. I think I have fucktastically more muscle mass compared to then. That marathon 5, almost 6 years ago left my body changed. I’ve continued exercising at a rate previously unseen in my life. I’ve eaten more vegetables in the past 5 years than in the first 25 years of my life put together.

This is such a different experience.