I feel like there are so many different tracks of thought in my brain that the trains are going to collide soon and it will be all bad.

But typing is hurting.

Marriage and being a whore.

Being a good enough mother.

Separation and unity.

Am I really a piece of shit who deserves to lose my kids because I couldn’t get my suicidal thoughts under control before my kids were born? What if my kids don’t know I have those thoughts because I have successfully hidden it with them for nine years and counting? Am I really not allowed to have thoughts I don’t share?

It occurs to me that the contradictions the pain doctor is talking about “You have low markers and high markers at the same time and that’s bad” is part of why most doctors my entire life have had no idea what to do for me. I have the problems that come from being on the low and high end of issues at the same time. How the hell do you treat that?

The vitamin shots make me feel like shit. I hear they are supposed to “fill you with energy” but they fucking fill me with nausea.

I feel like the pain doctor is echoing what the mental health people have been saying to me for decades. “You shouldn’t be alive. Your existence is improbable.” Ok. Fine. But I’m still fucking here.

But why don’t I stop thinking about myself as weird. Wouldn’t it make my life so much better? Yeah. Whatever. I’m sure it would make everything just shiny if I stopped advocating for my weird as fuck body that has unusual reactions to almost everything. Sure yeah. Start treating me like I’m just like the 50%. That’ll solve my problems.

I’m tired of feeling this tired. I feel like I’m sleeping better than normal for me. I was in bed for ten hours last night and I think I woke up three times. That’s not horrible. But I’m soooooooo tired.

I threw up again. Second time this pregnancy. Once per trimester so far. Both times I threw up when a pill hit my gag reflex, it wasn’t nausea.

I cancelled with the woo doctor for this month. If I’ve been taking huge handfuls of vitamin pills for over a year now and my body has no detectable load of vitamins I don’t think it’s worth continuing to pay for the treatment. Especially since the vitamins she has me buy are hella expensive. I’ve been paying $600-$800/month for vitamins. And tests show that my body has no detectable load of vitamins whatsoever. That’s… frustrating.

I’m trying and I’m trying and I’m trying and so many things fail anyway. But if only I’d tryyyyyy.

I think of myself as a really successful failure. I fail all over the damn place in so many ways. But I get up and I keep trying so some of the crazy shit I try works out.

I think it is funny that I’m feeling awash with calm since I fired my therapist. I spent a lot of spoons gearing up for arguments with her about my life choices she didn’t agree with. Towards the end she was on an absolute campaign to get me to stop using pot and get on other medication because her psychiatrist friend believed that was the One Twue Way. I’m glad I fired that psychiatrist. I feel… less pissed off about being judged.

My shrink believed that you could have a “totally close relationship” with someone you talk to once or twice a year and it’s messed up that I want to talk to anyone more often than that. She really didn’t understand my desire to have closer relationships than that and she actively discouraged me. She really wants people to spend most of their time alone. That’s a lifestyle choice that’s fine if you want it. It’s not the One Twue Way to be though.

I don’t think I should be allowed to hold people hostage. I don’t believe I should shove my way into most of my friend’s lives more often than I do. But if I have friends who also want to talk to me as much as  want to talk to them and we prioritize doing so frequently… that’s not wrong. Even if she thought it was. Even if she believes that people should be more “independent” than that.

White Americans are so weird with their “independence”.

When I said that I model my family dynamics on what I have learned from my immigrant friends from other countries my shrink told me that white people can’t do that.

White. People. Can’t. Do. That.

We aren’t allowed to be close and enmeshed. We are required to be isolated islands doing our own thing. I mean, I’m big on creating room for separation within my enmeshments. My kids have individuality and their own stuff to do and their own friends… they aren’t required to be my shadow or exist for my sake. But we spend a lot more time together than is common for folks of our ethnic background. We like it. My nine year old is still actively resisting lots more separation.

I keep offering it…

I ask her all the time if she wants more space from the family. More space for herself. She’s gotten from “NO” to “I can tell I will want that in a few years… but not yet.”

But I’m doing everything wrong by not forcing separation. Right.

Sigh. What is right? What is wrong? Doesn’t it all depend on where you are standing and what your values are and what your goals are?

How could there possibly be One Twue Way?

How to write about this. For documentary reasons I try really hard to write down what’s going on for me. For reasons of tact I try to figure out how to do so without blowing things up in my life.

I’m having feelings over how some interactions have gone.

It is interesting to me to note that as I am feeling some objection about some interaction the way I am phrasing this in my head is: even my children don’t get to talk to me like that.

It’s funny how we develop standards and boundaries. Teaching my children how to treat me has been one of the best experiences of my life. In large part because it has worked. My kids are hella polite. They can code switch between many different behavioral expectations. At this point… EC can even handle sitting quietly through a class-like setting.

I thought this day would never come. And yet! With patience and tolerance she has eventually gotten here.

But it’s bigger than that. My children respect me. My children listen to what I have to say and they don’t cut me off to talk about unrelated subjects very often. When I go out into the world I am reminded that other people do not respect me and they do not listen to what I have to say. They are very happy to talk over me and bring up an entirely unrelated point.

You know what? I don’t need to engage with this much. I can… just opt out. I’m not dependent on anyone’s help anymore. I love this feeling so much. It’s like what I learned on the road trip: no amount of “help” is worth putting up with someone who will degrade me in even the smallest of ways. Like the dude who called me stupid. Like E’s parents who wanted to rant at me about domestic violence and home schooling. Like the woman who told me I was wrong for asking to sleep in the same room as my children.

Bye.

I can keep moving. I don’t need this shit.

IT’S THE BEST FUCKING FEELING IN THE UNIVERSE.

I don’t need you. Bye.

It’s all shivery and glowy and powerful. Muahahahahahaha

I asked Noah if being unwilling to take shitty treatment is the same as having self worth and he agreed that it’s kind of different. I may not think that I’m that awesome, but I’m not going to take no shit off of no one.

Why not? Because I have already taken the limit of shit I’m willing to take in this lifetime. I’m full up. My childhood was enough for ten lifetimes. When I needed help in order to not die, I took shit with the help.

I don’t need help from anyone. Err, except for Noah. And you know what?!?!?! He gives me less shit than anyone else alive.

For the life of me I don’t understand his way of measuring cost/benefit because Noah deserves way better than I give him. How do I learn to give him better to be more appropriate? It’s complicated because often I’m giving at the limit of what I know how to give and feeling like I must come up with more is very frustrating. When I get frustrated at my limitations… I take it out on the people around me. Which is the height of shitty and unfair.

One more day to get through. Then a day of travel. Then I get to go home and crawl into a snuggle pile with the people who love me best in the whole world.

I can barely wait.

Lately the pile includes me leaning my head on Noah’s chest while FMC lies more or less on top of me and EC lies on my legs to be also on dad. It’s glorious.

I lean on Noah. The kids mostly lean on me. They lean on him more with the passing of years and that feels really awesome too. Developmentally it is normal for children to bond most with their mothers early on. Branching out to heavily include dad before puberty is also very appropriate.

Sometimes I feel this feeling of elation. My children are developing normally. My children are hitting normal stages. My children are demonstrating appropriate change over time.

HOW DID I NOT BREAK THEM ALREADY?!??!?! I DO NOT TRUST THIS MAGIC.

The reason I hurt peoples heads is because these times when I suddenly use caps… I do more or less shout those sentences. I’m so irritating.

I’m passionate.

Which is part of why I’m way more palatable via text.

So I was the recipient of some behavior I have a problem with. I’m going to put my big girl panties on and figure out how to handle this without being nasty.

Is it nasty to say, “If there is ongoing punishment for having opinions that are not what you want me to have… how about if I just leave today and stay in a hotel. That’s totally ok with me.”

I think I’m going to pack and be ready to walk out. That was a beautiful prescient moment I had in E’s parents’ house. I was 95% packed before we walked down to that fateful breakfast where his father pissed me off for the last time.

Yeah… I’ll be packed before they wake up.

Maybe I’m throwing a temper tantrum too. Maybe I’m demonstrating that if you throw a temper tantrum in my direction because you don’t like my opinions there are consequences. I. Do. Not. Reward. Tantrums.

It’s a parenting standpoint I’m quite firm about and I sure as shit am not going to indulge a grown person in such bullshit. But I’m afraid I’m a hypocrite who indulges myself in temper tantrums. Shit.

This is part of the problem of demanding better treatment. If you don’t also hand it out… you are a piece of shit. I’m not sure I always deliver on the behavior I expect to receive and that’s shitty of me.

That’s something I need to work on. A lot.

I used to schedule two week trips and decide at the ten day mark that I was ready to go home. This time I scheduled a nine day trip and after six days… I’m ready to go home. Deep sigh.

I want to snuggle my family. I want to not feel wrong. No one is doing anything bad… this just isn’t an environment set up for me. From almost everything in the house being breakable to the fact that they are both very quiet and when I can’t hear people I tend to talk louder. Then I hurt their heads. Then I feel ashamed of myself for being too gross and loud and too much and…

I want to go home to my fucktastically loud family where I’m not bad for the volume of my voice.

Everyone is COMPLETELY ENTITLED to have their own preferences for sound volume. I just… can’t hear very well. I’m still passing hearing tests. I think partially because fucking hearing tests are always “can you hear this isolated sound in an otherwise silent environment” and my problem is that if there is any background noise at all I have trouble picking out the morphemes of language. It all becomes a blur. And if you mumble at the same time? Well… let’s just say it probably isn’t a fucking mystery why my children E.N.U.N.C.I.A.T.E. They really want me to hear them.

My house is set up to be safe for me. Not other people. And the thing is… it isn’t about the physical building. It’s about the home and the people. Home is different than a space. Home is the feeling that you are allowed to be somewhere; that you are where you are supposed to be.

I wonder if my home is as safe for the other people who live there. I should probably do some checking on that.

Noah and my kids shine with love for me. They are basically incandescent. And sometimes I get too loud for them, too. Just like they get too loud for me sometimes. And we signal each other in a way that doesn’t trigger this shame spiral.

At home I can feel sheepish and not ashamed. Yeah. I get too excited.

My friend pointed it out in a super polite way. I’m not complaining about his method of asserting that his physical boundaries were being crossed. I’m struggling with my internal set of feelings about being almost 36 fucking years old and I still don’t have that great of control over the volume of my voice.

Noah asked: “Which behavioral/emotional modification are you currently thinking of and trying for?”

I don’t know for sure what I had in mind the exact day I typed the original post. My memory isn’t that good.

But I’m always trying to work on more constructive expressions of anger. Anger is not wrong and anger is not bad but acting inappropriately while angry is a serious problem. By the time my children are adults I hope that they will be proud of how I manage my anger. I have already come a long way in their lifetimes. I hope that I keep getting better. I don’t know if my children will be proud of me. I can’t ask them to be. Not ever. I have to just try and earn it and hope for the best.

I’m still trying to swim through the grief I feel about my mother. I would like that to feel less like dropping a plugged in hair dryer in the bath tub. I would like to get to the point where I am not crying about missing her so often. If I stop and feel sad for a few minutes once or twice a year I think that’ll be reasonable. It’s still way way way way way more often than that. It interferes with time I’d rather be spending in other ways.

I am trying to figure out what I need to do to get my shit together and stop taking so much out on you (Noah).  You are my “safe” person and that’s mixed and complicated. I don’t need to dump so much on you just because you won’t abandon me the way anyone else would.

I was doing great on sleep regulation till this damn trip. Now… my sleep is shit. It’s almost 1 in the fucking morning here. It’s almost god damn 2 in my time zone. They haven’t gone to bed yet. So I’m up like a hypervigilant freak.

awake awake awake awake

I need my children because I regulate off of them. I regulate myself by force of will for them. When they are not with me… I spend too much time in my head. I spend too much time feeling like everything I’m doing is wrong.

I’m too sensitive. I’m too needy. I’m too particular.

Let me god damn tell you: it’s fun reading stuff about autistic folks at this moment in my life. Something I hadn’t really expected… I’m finding the diagnosis funny. Like, it makes me feel more amused with myself. But only in certain ways and that doesn’t mean I want anyone else to laugh at me. There are an awful lot of behaviors that I’ve spent years in therapy trying to eradicate and I suspect I would have been better served by being taught how to cope with who I am instead of being told to change who I am.

The fact that I taught myself facial expressions in the mirror… there are so many funny little things like that. I have done a lot of self therapy and I use a lot of techniques that overlap with recommended autistic therapies.

I’ve been doing them for a long time. I practice in the mirror. I make up scripts for how to have conversations. I have spent years documenting my attempt to train myself through writing to be able to see ambiguities in life and not treat everything as a black/white. I mean shit, I’m fucking doing it now. Keeping it on topic. That’s one I really fucking struggle with. It’s complicated.

Another thing I’m trying to figure out is what having self worth means. I can rattle off a list of accomplishments, sure whatever. But I don’t value most of what I can list off much. Whoopdie fucking shit. I mostly walked a marathon.

I’m way more impressed that someone I loved was willing to come help me get through that experience with grace and humor and compassion.

I don’t take pride in my writing, not really. I don’t… see much to take pride in? Ok, so I have the typing equivalent of verbal diarrhea. I don’t write “seriously” or about a real “topic”. I just fucking blather because it helps me not be physically violent in the rest of my life. I organize my feelings. This is my meditation.

Now I lay my thoughts to rest

Each and every day puts them to the test;

If I should die before I wake

My thoughts are here for you to take.

They went in their room. I should probably try to sleep now. Maybe I’ll tell you later about the Anchorage bdsm play space I went to. I only have comments on the building because… uhh… only one person was there and she was kinda busy.

My buddy said an interesting thing to me yesterday. We were talking about my obsession with being unique. He said, “There’s a big difference between acknowledging that something is true about yourself and using something as your identity.” He used examples from his life that I’m not going to repeat for privacy reasons.

I said, “Ah. But there are reasons I lead with my weirdness. It’s not random. When I try to lead with ‘Oh we all have lots in common, see we have so much in common’ I start talking to folks and then I get to little details about my life and folks often will literally physically put their hands in front of them to energetically shove me away and they’ll say something almost exactly like ‘No. I’m not like you. My experiences are NOT LIKE THAT.’ If I lead with ‘I’m completely weird’ then other people try hard to find connections and they don’t get mad at me when it turns out that… their experiences are not like mine. It’s a protective measure.”

My friend stopped and thought real hard about that.

I love when people actually stop and think during a conversation. That shit is hawt.

He kind of nodded and admitted that it makes a lot of sense that people react differently in those cases.

Then the topic shifted.

*I* think I have things in common with everyone on the planet. But I also think that if I try to get people to think they are like me they get upset. If I tell people that I’m really weird… they have more patience with me. They are more capable of looking at me as a weird alien culture who might have an inch of crossover with them and hunh isn’t that interesting.

When I was a kid I used to cry because I didn’t want to be weird. I hated that people constantly told me how weird I am.

Oh, here’s a thing my friend said: he said that often we self identify with a negative because we want to eliminate the sting when someone else uses the negative.

It is kind of like that only I don’t think that being weird is a negative anymore. I think it is a fact and people will acknowledge it whether I bring it up or not. If I bring it up then people can’t bludgeon me with it. So… exactly what he said only I don’t think it’s bad/negative and other people might.

It is interesting reading stuff about autism lately. One of the key phrases I see people use to describe themselves repeatedly “I feel like I come from another planet.”

I feel like I came from this planet and then I had a completely weird set of experiences that other people can’t understand.

So many opposite extremes in my life. Poverty and wealth. Health and dysfunction. Fitness and physical degradation. Violence and the conscious choice to be gentle.

I talk a lot about being a violent person. But I’m a violent person who doesn’t hit people. I’m a violent person who doesn’t use physical intimidation. I’m a violent person who doesn’t verbally threaten people.

Violence is such a complicated topic.

Being in Alaska frames some of the violence differently. Most people here hunt. You know what? I don’t think hunting is violent. It involves killing… for survival. Is that violence or is that life?

When people are fighting other people in a civil war… is that violence or life?

I watched a video in the museum yesterday. A woman was talking about her grandmother who taught her indigenous survival skills, “I quickly learned that my grandmother didn’t take no crap. She was a tough woman who was only going to allow people to treat her with respect.”

Can you be that and not be violent? I sure hope so. Because I’d love to have people think of me in a similar way.

You teach people how to treat you. And I am not interested in taking crap from anyone.

There’s this dude in my extended community. He dates several people I adore. I feel that he has really useful, awesome relationships with them. He does wonderful things for their lives and self esteem. I can’t fucking stand to be in a room with him. He does nothing but give me crap. Or ignore me. There isn’t an in between.

It’s ok that other people are motivated by teasing and taunting and I am not. It is ok that someone can be wonderful for many people and completely a problem for someone else. We don’t all have to need the same kinds of support or the same kinds of relationships.

That’s been a lovely thing to feel deep in my belly as I get older. He’s a fantastic influence in their lives. I would not say words or make gestures that might fuck up their relationships. It would be cruel and evil if I did. But that doesn’t mean I have to like him or be near him.

That’s such a wonderful, freeing thing to feel.

When I was younger I had trouble with the geek social fallacies. “The friends of my friends have to be my friends.”

Naw dude. Make your own damn friends.

A woman I love very much is having a hard time with someone she loves very much. The person she loves is struggling with big life problems. My friend wants me to get involved and be supportive of her friend. She keeps asking me to reach out and indicate love and support and offer myself as a sounding board because I give such good advice and I’m so good at helping people.

Err… no.

I love you. I’m sorry your friend is suffering. No. I am not in a profession where such a reaching out would be appropriate and it would be codependent as fuck for me to add more drama into my life right now. I can’t reach out to a person in crisis and invite them to lean on me right now. It would be wildly inappropriate given what I’m trying to do with my life in this moment. I’m trying to calm my body down. I’m trying to heal a lifetime of physical damage from my life experiences.

I can’t take on a project meth-head right now. That would be highly dysfunctional.

Even though your friend deserves all the support in the world… it can’t come from me.

Boundaries are complicated and hard and have to be looked after. It’s ok for people to ask for things I don’t want to give. But I need to be on my toes about saying “No”.

I think this is a positive step for me?

And that’s the end of my attention span.

I love this city (Anchorage). I love that walking from my friend’s house to the grocery store means walking along a heavily wooded path next to a bountiful river. Everything is so lush and beautiful.

The people are so kind. People are talking to me every day. I don’t have to initiate every pick up conversation!!!

I want to bring my family here to meet the city. My kids point out “We’d have to spend a winter there before we even thought about moving there.” I love my kids. They are brilliant. They are forward thinking and wise.

The food here is shockingly good. My previous Alaska experience (in Yakutat and Ketchikan) involved a lot of… not so good food. The pho place is delicious! The fruit quality is way higher than I expected. The salad greens aren’t nasty. I’m doing pretty well for food. Still pooping pretty. ha

I miss the woods. I’ve lived in dry or desert for so long. I miss water.

BTW- I decided not to ask my friend for permission to use his name. He’s famous and I don’t choose to name drop. That’s a level of star-fuckery I don’t need to mess with. He’s my wonderful friend and I’m blessed to know him. I don’t need to try and link my name to his on google.

He’s famous because he puts himself out there and he shares his experiences and he’s willing to grow in public. He’s a fantastic teacher. I learn so much in conversations with him. I feel deeply blessed that so many of the most fascinating people of my generation are willing to talk to me.

I had a funny thought yesterday. I have felt for years that my children are pretty much the reason I have stuck around and really dug into life. I have felt like there wasn’t ever really a place for me until I was EC & FMC’s mom.

My friends remind me that I have a lot of gifts to offer the world. The world doesn’t have a precarved out position for me… like being EC & FMC’s mom… but I have a lot to offer. The world doesn’t have much to give anyone; the world wants to know what you have to give to others. The world doesn’t care what you need.

I could have made a life. I could have carved out a Krissy shaped hole in the world that would have been impossible to fill when I die because people can’t duplicate one another. There is enough need in this world that I can fill… I could have made a place.

But I’m so much happier getting to be a mom. I take pride in my children being stubborn and challenging and inconvenient. I take joy from seeing them move out into the world while needing me less and less. I’m grateful that they still are very sad to go eight whole days without snuggling me.

I do matter to them. Their day is actively worse when I’m not present. There is a Krissy shaped hole in my house right now.

And yeah… it’s still centered around what I have to give. That’s true. But on days when I’m at empty and I have almost nothing to give? There is still a Krissy shaped spot where they want me.

When random strangers judge how “functional” they perceive me to be… I am getting better at taking a deep breathe and recognizing that they have no scope for my life.

I think of Jenny telling me that she knows how far I’ve come.

Am I perfect? Oh fuck no. I’m a train wreck in motion. But I’m causing less damage over time. I’m making healthier choices. I’m better aware of how my actions impact people and I consider that more seriously.

I’m more honest about the fact that I am chronically mentally and physically ill. There are days when I can’t do/be/give much. The world wouldn’t take much pity on me for this. Some… but not a lot. My family thinks that giving me extra support sometimes on bad days is balanced out by the good days. There is still space for me to be appreciated even when I’m a loser who can’t work.

How much work do you have to be able to do in order to deserve life? How much do you have to give before you count as “doing well”? What does “functional” mean anyway?

We had a delightful chat tonight about polyamory pitfalls. I was very blunt about how badly I fucked up last year. My phrasing was very close to, “I started as a cheating piece of shit and I ended feeling like an abusive monster. I had a banner year! And then he wanted to get me pregnant. Because I’m not the only masochist in my house.”

My friend is such a good listener and he is one of the least judgy people on the planet. We all make fucked up choices sometimes. Look at why you broke down and make changes to ensure that won’t happen again. Life is about getting back up when you fall down. We all fall down…

I think that some people believe that in order to be “doing well” you have to not fall down anymore.

We all start from different places and with different potential and different talents and different problems and…

I think I’m going to periodically fuck up royally until the day I die. Even if I live to be 95. I don’t think I’ll ever figure out how to be perfect. I’m going to keep fucking up. (Partially because I have every intention of continuing to meet new people at a blistering pace as long as I can. It keeps you young.)

Oh man, speaking of fresh opportunities to fuck up… The kind folks I’m visiting listened to the end of my explanation of my fucking up and I got to the part where I talked about the unicorn hunting we may do some year in the distant future. Their response was, “Oh! You want _______! I’ll ship him to you!”

Very kind offer darling. Not this decade.

I’m not saying I’m opposed permanently… just… not the now.

He does sound right up Noah’s alley. And that’s going to be a big part of unicorn hunting for us. Why do I call it unicorn hunting? Because asshole couples (like us) want to go find hot bisexual people for no strings attached sex. And there are a lot of asshole couples like us and very very very few humans who enjoy being a third. Thus: unicorns. They can be of any gender. Cause life is awesome!

I told my friends that I think we’ve shot ourselves in the foot when it comes to hunting in the pool of our local friends. They saw the drama explosion and got to read a play by play of the screaming matches at home that lasted for months. Who the fuck wants to step in that mess?

Hey. I’m totally up front about the level of crazy you are getting with me.

Honesty, dudes.

Yeah. I should be asleep. It’s 11pm here so it’s 12 pm at home. BUT I DO NOT ENJOY SLEEPING ALONE IN A ROOM WITH NO ONE TOUCHING ME. THIS IS HORRIBLE AND A HALF. I shoulda brought a kid. Maybe just one kid would have been enough of a vacation….

Sigh

I mean… I did bring a kid… but the current one is only the size of a lemon and just starting to play bumper cars with my internal organs. It’s different. I think this is going to be the longest I have gone without snuggles……. since I got married? Probably when I lived alone before I moved in with Noah. The last solo trip to NY before I got married even involved pick up sex with the swinger who showed up at the bdsm con. And I snuggled my ex-girlfriend then. And a whole bunch of cuddle friends.

Yeah it must be when I lived alone after Puppy dumped me. 2006.

Wow… my life is different. I had… forgotten what skin hunger felt like. Oh Noah honey. The road trip must have been so shitty for you. What an incredible gift you gave us. We’ll never leave you behind like that again. This is hard.

I feel so lucky that I get to have a family so that I can deal with this aching need to not only be touched to meet today’s need… but be touched a lot to start filling in the damage of years of lack of healthy touch.

“Baby’s aren’t Prozac.” Err… uhm… that’s uhm. Ok. No they aren’t a little pill. They are people. People create the opportunity for relationships. Relationships release brain chemicals that improve peoples moods. Babies are a blank slate to teach someone how you want to be in a relationship. If you do it in a healthy way… it’s fantastic for both of you. If you are narcissistic or so traumatized/disabled/(fill in the blank reason) you cannot teach someone how to be in a healthy relationship… it’s catastrophic.

I consult an awful lot of professionals about my children because I’m fucking terrified of doing it wrong. Does that mean I’m doing it right? No. It means I’m probably not going to go off the rails too badly and damage my children in similar patterns to my family history. Because professionals are good at watching for patterns like that. It’s their job. They ain’t emotionally invested in me. They ain’t my friends. They want what is best for my family because that is how they service their community. Which means *I’m* not always the important consideration. I think that is healthy.

I am not a victim in my life. I am a privileged participant. You can have a traumatic history and not be a victim. I still have impairments that I’m trying to deal with as a result of my history. I’m still not a victim any more.

With every year I discover more about what it means to be in my story. I have come a long way.

I had another of those experiences where I ask someone, “Did you have x kind of experience?” and they go “Oh yeah” and I go “So how do you deal with a, b, and c backlash from d and e happening?”

WHAT IS THE CONSISTENT RESPONSE TO THIS?! “Oh wow. Not like that. No.”

I keep trying to find folks who can help me map some of the next stages of where I want to go in terms of behavioral/emotional modification. I really don’t think anyone has done what I want to do. Not exactly. Not with my background. Not who got as far as I’ve already gotten with the deficits I think I will be able to figure out how to overcome.

I don’t think anyone exists.

“You’re obsessed with being unique.” I actually broke up with my shrink without ever discussing this. I just… let it go.

The more I recognize that I’m not much like anyone else the more free I feel. I really get to just decide whoever the fuck I want to be because there aren’t models out there. Most people like me just die. But I haven’t. And I don’t think I will any time soon bar a freak accident.

Do you know how weird that feels deep in the pit of my belly? I believe I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for the long-haul. I have children to raise. I have a database to help build. I have people to learn from. I have things I want to do. I’m going to do a lot of things. I mean… that’s not in question. It’s not an idle boast. It’s a simple statement of fact.

Holy shit. I believe that.

“Babies aren’t Prozac” but the first year of my daughter’s life was the most euphoric I have ever been and I’ve done some damn good drugs.

I need my children partially because they need me to be an autonomous human being with drives and interests of my own. I may not act on that in the same way as other mothers… but that doesn’t make my way wrong. It is ok to be culturally out of step. I live in a place where diverse cultures are supposed to be expected.

I’m finally starting to get sleepy. I miss my Noah.

I wanted a chance to miss them. Well, I’m getting it. Sigh.

I feel like a rabbit that is going to dart back into its burrow where it feels safe. But first it’s going to eat some clover and roll over on the grass and enjoy some sun and…

Tomorrow I am going to go to the museum and discover what the locals mean when they say “drinking chocolate”. Err, that’ll be at a separate location… not in the museum. Apparently B was invited to come to an event at the local Hard Rock Cafe tomorrow night so uhhh that’ll be my second time ever at a HRC.

I wanna try the fried chicken. But I guess not tomorrow. Maybe Friday. Saturday I get to see one of Jenny’s aunts. I look forward to that. It’ll be a chance to hear a side of the family lore that I’ve never heard before. Given how much I love Jenny’s mom… that’s a super big treat for me. I’ll be so good.

Pam partially inspires such devotion from me because she includes me in her family. She shares the beautiful words her parents say. She shares her fun, sweet sister. She believes there is a Krissy shaped hole in her family and she is happy to pull me right into it.

See, I don’t just use my relationships with my babies as my Prozac. I know I need to diversify my sources and shit.

I’ve got some really good people. I’m a ridiculously lucky person.

I wouldn’t bring my kids to this house… but I feel like I’d probably be welcome back after some reasonable interval. I don’t burn every bridge to the ground. I may have yelled at R’s dad… but he totally earned it. Not everyone does! Even I can get along with reasonable people.

I have no patience for old jack asses who expect me to be impressed by who they are banging.

I’m still pissy with SM for telling me that he invited me to speak at an event because Noah is cool and Noah married me so he guesses I must be cool. Oh and can you please not talk about any of the things you spend all of your time talking about? M’kay?

Naw. I’m out.

My schtick is complicated as fuck, yo. Layers. Like an onion. I’ll make you cry. But only occasionally. I hope.

Or maybe instead of crying you spend time laughing. I don’t know what.

I can’t control what other people hear. I can control what I type out. But I can’t control the distortions and perceptions and past experiences people bring to reading. No matter how poetically I scream into the void… the void does whatever the fuck it wants to do.

I spend too much time reading forums. I get a lot of ideas of how I don’t want to behave when I grow up. Good gracious. Boundaries are awesome! My kids and I talk about future planning when they are adults. The conversation goes something like:

Me: “Of course I would love to spend time with you as a grown up. I will ask for visits. BUT IT’S OK TO TELL ME THAT IT’S NOT A GOOD TIME OR JUST PLAIN NO.”

EC: “Oh don’t worry mom, I’ll tell you no when it doesn’t work for me. I will have stuff of my own to do.”

IS IT REALLY THAT HARD TO HAVE FUCKING BOUNDARIES WITH ADULT CHILDREN?! I DON’T GET IT.

I feel like one of the wonderful things I’ve gotten from being a parent is the strong NEED to work on boundaries. My boundaries with my kids are not real muddy. There are topics we don’t discuss. There are kinds of support they are not allowed to give me. (Now if you want to support me by sweeping and washing the dishes… I’m down.)

My kids are fan-fucking-tastic house mates. They want to be helpful. They want to live in a house that works like clockwork because then they get to do more of their spontaneous desires without being told “No. You must do the pre-reqs before you move on to the fun part.” If you just keep up with the pre-reqs of picking up after yourself most of the time… it’s not that hard.

Sarah and I speculate about what my kids will be like as adults. Right now they are boss-cleaners. They handle their shit and they contribute to household shit as they feel generous. Will this continue? Will my children want to grow up and live in an orderly house or will they grow up to live in abject chaos JUST TO PROVE THEY CAN. I expect at least some phases of chaos. Hopefully I will invest in some duct tape and keep my fat mouth shut.

Random thing I was thinking about: I talk about Jenny a lot as my oldest friend. But I have multiple other people in my life I met at the same time or really a few months/a year before I got to know her as well. I feel like Jenny and I got closer as I was rounding the bend towards 13. Y & G were both intensely close friends before her. I don’t talk to G very often because he’s out in Utah, but I do talk to him. (He’s going to start fostering children with his wife! I’m excited. I think they will be fabulous foster parents.) I talk to Y a few times a month. We had many years where we didn’t really talk because life was busy, but we’ve never really fallen completely out of touch.

But Jenny is the one in my mind. She is the bright shining star at the top of my Christmas tree and that’s an interesting thing.

Something that occurred to me… Y & G never put up harsh boundaries with my abusive behavior. They both grew up in shitty families and just kind of put their heads down to take it. Neither of them ever told me to stop hitting them or being nasty.

Jenny did. When I’m an asshole to Jenny… she’ll cheerfully go months without talking to me till I get my shit together. Jenny has fucking boundaries.

I wonder how much that plays into Jenny being the shining star. I have had to work on myself in order to deserve this relationship and I think that matters. I think that Jenny feels like more of an accomplishment because she wasn’t willing to put up with me being shitty. The fact that she’s still my friend is a reflection that I have gotten better.

Y & G? Yeah… I think they would have known me forever no matter how much of a bully I was. That kind of makes me sad. They both deserve better.

Why do Y & G get initials? Because I haven’t asked their permission to use their names. I do care about that kind of thing.

Y & G carried me through middle school. They are two of the biggest reasons that middle school was the happiest time of my childhood. But they aren’t the bright shining stars on the top of my Christmas tree.

I feel bad about that. I love them. They are wonderful people. I deeply look up to both of them in different ways. But Jenny’s different.

Y & G feel like beloved friends.

Jenny feels like my family. Which is complicated with my abhorrence for chosen family. But there she is.

Jenny and Sarah and Pam remind me that family isn’t about blood. Because they stay in my life and demand better from me year after year. They don’t accept my shittiness. They say, “Yeah… that’s not ok. Stop that.” Because they love me

I don’t think they feel like they are setting boundaries as firmly as they are. I feel it though. I feel the cocoon of “I am this way and you must accept me and respect my limits.”

It’s so wonderful. Them having this cocoon around them makes me feel safe. I can see what will and won’t be tolerated and I can adapt. They will all explain their limits to me, patiently. “Yeah that won’t work for me because ______.” “OOOOOHHHH! That’s why! Yes! That makes sense! Thank you for explaining that to me!”

I feel so lucky.

I know that justifying/arguing/defending/explaining is frowned upon by lots of people. I know. I don’t think I deserve an explanation. But I try very hard to respond respectfully when someone does something they don’t have to do.

I don’t listen to the explanation because I’m trying to figure out how to manipulate them into doing what I want anyway. I listen to the explanation so I can have a better mental model in my head about why they want what they want. Then maybe I won’t need that same explanation again.

Yeah… sometimes I fuck this up big. But I’m trying.

I think part of what I value so deeply about Pam, Sarah, and Jenny is that they are pretty fucking good at understanding themselves and why they have their boundaries. It’s a rare talent.

Decades of relationships. I haven’t failed at every relationship. Almost 24 years. Almost 21 years. Almost 14 years. I’ve been married 11 years.

I haven’t failed at every relationship.

But it’s complicated. So complicated.

I feel ashamed of how much some people in my network have so much more influence over me than anyone else.

Like, if Pam ever seriously read me the riot act and told me she was ashamed of me because my behavior was completely over the line… I’d crumble like a cracker. It would be a BIG FUCKING DEAL because she just doesn’t do that sort of thing. I would deserve it. She’s not manipulative. She’s not hostile. She’s not controlling. She’s not judgmental. If she came down on me like a ton of bricks…. I would deserve it. I caused it.

So I work very hard to not cause it. Because I need her good esteem.

This all contributes to thoughts I’ve been having about “safe” people getting the majority of abuse. Y & G are safe people to abuse. They won’t resist. Jenny is not safe. She will walk away because she has that integrity.

I want to learn how to appreciate the safe people without hurting them so much.

Today I get to drive to my chiropractors, then go to the bank, then drive to San Jose for intravenous vitamins, then come back home. Do chores and help get the house set up for my absence next week. Double check my packing. Then drive back to Santa Clara for family therapy. Wheeee.

We have some stuff to discuss that is very important. My children are expressing that they need help talking about some big feelings. Yes, beloved. We will cheerfully and lovingly support you in that. It’s ok to have feelings that you worry might hurt me. I will cope. Let’s talk about you.

Tomorrow I get my first massage in months. I’m so excited. My shoulders hurt so much.

Sunday I will be dropped off at SFO at about 5am.

I don’t plan to answer my phone or email much while I’m gone. I need to kind of evaporate for a bit. I’ll talk to my kids as much as they need… but I’m not going to be very friend-available. I love you all.

I am looking forward to this trip so much I can barely sit still. I need time to just… be. I’m bringing two big fat books I don’t have to carry home with me so the weight will go away when I’m done reading them. (Pop fiction I’m not attached to rereading.) My friend in AK is a reader so if I run out of stuff to read he’ll have stuff around.

I intend to walk around his neighborhood a fair bit.

I intend to not cause trouble. We’ll see if I manage for a week.

Getting all the medical test results… is both disheartening and really interesting. I feel a lot less bad about the way I feel weak and inadequate in my body. My body does not really have everything it is supposed to have to feel strong and adequate. I’m not imagining things. It’s just true.

Calcium and amino acids. Those were the two things he checked that were “Strangely in normal range.” I drink/eat dairy like it is going out of style. I wonder if the SHEER AMOUNT of milk and cheese I consume is enough to balance things out. I will probably never know for sure. (God I love milk.)

Who knows. I sure don’t.

I’m tired of being in pain. I’m tired of feeling so tired that moving around feels like going uphill through a river of molasses. I’m tired of feeling listless and apathetic.

I miss feeling excitable and full of anticipation. I want to meet this baby, but I’m so fucking tired.

I keep having what I’m thinking of as “anti-nesting” feeling. I want to run away from the bay area so badly. I know I leave on a trip in a few days. It’s not soon enough. It’s not long enough. It’s not even far enough. I want to run and keep running and running and running.

I’m scared of my codependency. I’m scared of the choices I’ve made and who I’ve brought into my life. Running away sounds easier than being a grown up and evolving in place.

But leaving this house sounds traumatic and terrible. This is my only forever home.

I’m looking at real estate and rental properties all over the world. Nothing is as cool as the house I made. *sniff*

I am so conflicted about this house. I didn’t pick it. I didn’t want it. But I made it mine.

I feel like the Disneyland website is my Methadone.  Less than 23 weeks to go. It happens before giving birth so it is a milestone of excitement in the middle of a pregnancy where I am striving to have as little excitement as possible.

Renting a car in Alaska would have cost $700. Oh fuck no. So I’m going to download Lyft and mostly stay in my friend’s house not doing much. I need the rest anyway. There’s a Fred Meyer’s (oh bless Fred Meyer’s!) 1.5 miles from the house and multiple restaurants within a similar distance in the other direction. No trouble. I can walk. I am sturdy. Even if I feel like shit. I ain’t fast but I fucking get there.

It was interesting to have the pain doctor bring up Epstein Barr. I’m not sure what to make of him bringing that up. If it was a periodic recurring thing for me… that would explain these periods when I absolutely sag with being out of energy. I don’t know though. Like right now. My neighbor wants to visit today. I feel so deflated of energy I feel like I could sink through my chair into the sub-flooring.

But I want to travel? I want to go to Disneyland?

I do. It’s weird.

I think I’m going to move slowly and carefully. I think I will only go on a few rides. I will mostly enjoy being around the explosive joy. The last time I was at Disney while pregnant I was kind of resentful. This time I don’t think I will be. I’m ok skipping coasters right now. I just want to watch.

It’s kind of awesome that I know we are quite possibly moving. I won’t buy much.

Methadone. I’m telling you.