Monthly Archives: December 2017

31.5 weeks pregnant

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Last post for the morning

I’m up 10 lbs finally. I am managing this by drinking 500-700 calories a day. If I stopped drinking so many calories I would abruptly lose the weight I’ve gained. At the end of a pregnancy the placenta + fluids + baby weigh somewhere between 10 and 20 lbs. Can be up to 30 lbs depending on what you are including in pregnancy weight.

So I’m not even holding my own against the weight of the baby in my weight gain. I’m still losing weight, effectively. And I’m not in the clinically obese category so this is not doctor recommended. If I manage to gain another 10ish pounds in the next 8 weeks then I won’t have caused the baby to dramatically eat me. If I fail to gain that much… the baby is eating me.

I think it is funny that the chicken wing on me left arm is just about entirely evaporated but the chicken wing under my right arm is still freely swinging. Hilarious.

I still have jiggly apron pudge on the bottom of my distended belly.

I’m still wearing my regular size large pants if they are stretchy in the waist. I’m mostly wearing regular shirts. I just don’t neeeed maternity stuff in the main. I wear my regular dresses.

The acid reflux from water is fucking killing me.

The baby still feels traverse to me. I’ll find out in two weeks at the 34 week ultrasound. I see my OB this week for the 32 week check up.

Traverse means an attempt to spin the baby and if it fails then a mandatory c-section. I’m not scared about that.

In my previous pregnancies a c-section was the boogey man. Not this time. I feel very… at peace. I want this baby out in less than 24 hours. I don’t care how. I won’t need this uterus again after this so it doesn’t matter if you do some damage to it this time getting the kid out. And while you are at it, tie my tubes.

Physically and emotionally I can’t go through this again. I can’t do this to my family. I’m so god damn depressed and physically disabled that this isn’t an ok thing to do again. This is my limit.

I’m not exercising how I should. I’m so weary I feel like I can barely walk around the house to do basic chores. My body is having more pain because of the lack of exercise.

That’s something cool about this pregnancy. I’m FEELING the difference between good food and exercise vs not having good food and exercise. I’m not sure I’ve ever had such a dramatic physical experience of going back and forth. I can tell when I will feel bad and why. That’s kind of neat.

I have 4-5ish weeks of driving left in me. I’m stopping 3-4 weeks before my due date depending on how I feel. The driving hurts. Lightning bitches about the car posture. It’s not comfortable.

This is still an active kid but not quite as active as they were a few weeks ago. I think they are feeling a bit more cramped.

FMC is still encouraging me to try not to gender the baby. They have a good point. But it’s also hard.

I love the name we picked out. It’s kind of pretentious sounding but it is humorously pretentious in a way that honors the three women who have done the most to keep me moving through life. Who doesn’t want to be a spiritual gift of style and charm?

If I could emotionally get off the damn forums my arms would feel better. So would my neck.

Come on Krissy. Do it for your body.

Dream

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I had a dream that I was taking a class. In the class a girl turned and for some reason nastily mentioned that I was white trash. She was a stranger. I said, “Better to be white trash than a nasty bitch.” She was physically aggressive and posturing. I said, “I may be 8 months pregnant but I can still kick your ass” and we left the classroom.

It turned into a therapy session with us talking about insecurities and issues. Because that is how my life goes.

I’m kind of funny.

Boundaries. Confidentiality. Fail.

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Goodness gracious my life has a theme lately. What is privacy? Who deserves it? Under what circumstances? When are you allowed to keep secrets from people?

I fucked up. Or more appropriately, EC’s therapist fucked up and I was the recipient of the fuck up. We (me, Noah, and FMC’s therapist) have done a great job of teaching FMC that they don’t need to share a single word that is told in therapy if they don’t want to. Apparently we have not delivered that message with sufficient force to EC. I feel super bad. EC’s therapist asked me to check in at the end of the last appointment so we could discuss appointment regularity over the next few months.

She turned to EC a few times and said, “Is it ok for me to share with your mom what you said today?” barely paused for EC to say “Uhhhh I guess” then told me stuff EC had said. EC told me she felt like she had no choice but to say yes.

Fuck. That’s not ok. We fucked up. That’s a really big fail. Oh no.

I clarified on the way home, “So when you got silly and distracting… was that your way of trying to say no?” She said, “I do that when I’m trying to block out the conversation because I don’t like it and I don’t want to hear it.”

I said, “Baby… it would work better if you said “I’m very uncomfortable with this topic and don’t want you to talk about it. We would both stop.”

“You would?”

“Yes. We are there to support you and if what we are doing is a problem instead of support then we need to change what we are doing. You are allowed to say no or stop at any point and we have to respect it.”

“But she asked in a way that didn’t feel like I could say no.”

Oh we screwed up. The whole conversation home was about how EC is not my doll she’s my child. I don’t get to know all of her thoughts or feelings or experiences. I get to know what she chooses to share with me. I am not entitled to know more than she wants to share.

I immediately wrote her shrink an email when we got home and explained that we screwed up and we need to never do that to EC again. Next time when there is a check in about appointment regularity the conversation should go a lot more like, “EC is getting a lot out of therapy. She feels it is important to continue every two weeks.”

I don’t need to know the words she is sharing. That’s not my business.

I hope we haven’t damaged EC’s trust in her therapist with this fuck up.

I reminded both of my kids that therapists are legally obligated to break confidentiality for three reasons: sexual abuse, self harm, or harming others. Outside of that… it’s not my business if you want to spend all of your therapy talking about pickles or friends or me or books. You use your time to get support how you need support. I don’t need to know about it. It’s not my business.

I feel really bad. That’s such a big fail.

To be fair, the stuff the therapist repeated was softball stuff explaining problems I already knew existed but that doesn’t make it ok.

Then as we were coming home yesterday EC was reflecting on how some people like her more than others. She’s getting old enough that being in the same room as other kids doesn’t mean it will work out for play or feel like friendship. Sometimes she clicks with people and sometimes she doesn’t. She didn’t click yesterday and she was feeling bad about it. So on the ride home she was thinking about the people she has clicked with. Her face was crumbling in the back seat.

Me being me, I was all, “Hey wait. You are having feelings. You are thinking about something. I think you are thinking about a person… maybe more than one… and you are sad…. do you want to talk about it?”

She proceeded to tell me that I wouldn’t understand because I’ve never had to deal with losing someone who was important to me.

PEOPLE. I HAVE SUCCEEDED AT KEEPING MY WHINING OFF STAGE. THIS IS A FUCKING MIRACLE. I ALMOST FELL OUT OF MY SEAT LAUGHING.

I told her that in fact I’ve written hundreds of thousands of words about how much it hurts to lose people who are important to you so maybe I might understand a bit better than she thinks.

We talked for a while. When we got home she asked if we could cuddle on the couch and she could cry about the kids she won’t see again who liked her so much.

When she was feeling a bit better I said, “Hey. You know how you are scared that I’m going to have Lightning and never pay attention to you again? Did you notice how you can’t even have a sad facial expression for a few minutes without me pouncing on it to ask what is wrong? Do you really think I’m going to stop paying attention to you?”

She smiled in this blissed out way. She said, “I love how you love me” and she melted into me with perfect trust.

I may not own you. But I care about you. That isn’t going to stop.

I tell her that my goal is to earn a friendship with her when she’s a grown up. I don’t deserve it just by existing. She will get to decide if she enjoys my company and she wants to be my friend. She doesn’t have to take care of me, ever. She doesn’t owe me information she doesn’t want to share. She doesn’t have to tell me about herself.

It’s only if she wants to.

And I fail to earn it… that’s my problem.

Doing work is haaaaaaaard.

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I asked the kids to make sure they had all the stuff they have to turn in for this grading period done before they went to Texas. I was assured that they had it all. FMC was lying through their teeth. They had half of it.

So we’ve had a stressful week. They spent about 10 hours not really making progress on an assignment yesterday as they cried and told me how unfair and mean I am. They can do one of these assignments in 1-2 hours if they choose. They kept restarting the first two sentences and crying. Why? I don’t know.

So when we were getting close to dinner and they still weren’t halfway through the penultimate assignment and they were still derailing to tell me how awful I am… I snapped. I started screaming.

It is not my fault you are in this position. You are in this position because you chose to lie about being done a week ago. So since you lied to me and are proceeding to make my life miserable because of your lie… you are grounded for a week. No screen and no sugar.

And tomorrow morning you get to wake up and finish your work. If you don’t finish by the time your ES shows up… you are grounded for two weeks and that includes Christmas.

I’m not fucking around.

Do. Not. Lie. To. Me. And if you do, at least have the courtesy to not turn around and yell at me that it is unfair that you have consequences for lying. That’s not ok.

I’m not going to play this bullshit game.

So I feel meeeeeeeeeeeeeeean and like I need to be this mean. It would have been better if I could have just enforced this without screaming. But holy shit the whining and yelling at me yesterday was more than I could handle.

So in the past hour kiddo has finished the first assignment and is almost done with the second assignment. Apparently they woke up with a fire under their butt. They are no longer whining and stalling they are just concentrating and writing.

They don’t want to be grounded for Christmas. Oh good. They are still not eating cookies at the cookie exchange party. I’m a hard ass.

I tell my kids frequently that home schooling is a privilege. If you want to home school you have to be responsible for your education. I am not going to breathe down your neck and force you to comply with doing work. Do it or you can go to school and be micromanaged by a professional teacher who is BEING PAID to boss you around like that. I’m not being paid to micromanage you. I’m here to help you if you want to do the work. I’m not ok with dragging and forcing you through an education. I will not do it. Work or go to school.

Every so often we need a reminder that I’m serious. I’m not going to do this harsh babysitting/punishment thing constantly. I’ve only had to yell at my kids on two or three days this year about school and I’m unhappy about it being that much?

If I were better I wouldn’t have yelled those days. But I hit my limit sometimes.

Sigh.

EC had her shit together this time. I was impressed. She didn’t even need reminders. FMC is only seven and this is their very first time in their life being held to school standards like this on a regular basis. The fact that I’ve had three days of fuss in their first academic school year…

I need to be a little more patient. They have mostly done pretty well. And I didn’t ask EC to do this shit at this age. It actually makes sense that FMC is testing the boundaries to see what happens. What they are discovering is that I’m kind of a nasty bitch if you lie to me. I can tolerate all kinds of failures and mistakes without raising an eyebrow. I don’t expect perfection. But don’t lie to me.

And now kiddo is done. Sigh.

We’ve talked about how next time they won’t lie and say they are done because it didn’t make the work easier it made it a lot harder. And they are really sad about being grounded. So next time… they will be honest about not being done yet. I asked them if this work would have been hard if they had started a week ago with many days before the ES came. They shook their head and said it would have been really easy. They even spontaneously added, “I wouldn’t have cried at all.”

Yup.

That’s what we are shooting for. The not crying. The not stressing. The not feeling terrible about deadlines. We had time.

Lying makes everything worse. Don’t lie.

And now they are doing their 15 minutes of online reading program and they are done with academics for the day by 7am. That’s going to be a better day for them….

What does that mean?

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Tonight FMC asked me why I call them “angel”. I asked them if they know what an angel is and they said not really.

I told them that angels are spirits. Mostly they are basically good but some of them are dark. Angels bring gifts like joy and love.

I said that they brought joy and love and happiness into my life. So it’s like they are an angel sent to me.

They asked me, “Am I like a dark angel? Like a demon?”

I asked them what they think. Like I do.

They said, “I don’t know. I do the wrong thing a lot.”

I said, “That’s because there are a whole bunch of things you want to learn and you can’t learn without making mistakes. Wanting to learn doesn’t make you a demon. Trying something that turns out to be the wrong thing doesn’t make you a demon. Setting out to be cruel is different. Setting out to hurt and damage people is different. Purposefully trying to destroy people…. that’s evil.”

“I don’t do that!”

“No. You don’t. You are a kid who is trying to learn who you want to grow up to be and sometimes in that process you make choices that are not like the choices you hope you will make as a grown up… because you have to learn. The fact that you keep trying to be better… sweetheart that is about you reaching for the light. Dark angels don’t do that.”

Their face relaxed and they smiled at me. They told me that they love me.

I love you my baby.

Different perspectives.

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I tried to apologize to Cupid last night for how I handled a lot of negotiation stuff last year. He shrugged it off and told me that I was married and planning to go get pregnant. He didn’t think I had anything to apologize for.

I appreciate it that other people are less hard on me than I am on my self. But he still deserved better as my friend.

Pay attention to me.

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Everyone is gone. So I’m going to take this opportunity to pay attention to myself. I had a lovely bath last night in the dark with about 20 candles burning. I like that a lot.

Today I scheduled all my appointments to be done in time to go to the tea shop by myself. I think I have done a good job about not whining about being sad that the baby shower just didn’t happen. But I was disappointed and for some reason missing the tea shop was a big chunk of that so I’m just going by myself. And this way I don’t need to feel overwhelmed with shame that I’m asking Sarah to foot the bill so my friends can have a tea party with me. I wasn’t sad about missing out on presents–whatever. I wanted the attention. So I’m going to go pay it to myself.

Tomorrow I’m going to go to the second Saturday party I love so much. I will socialize and be a voyeur. It’ll probably be healthy for me to have a follow up conversation with Cupid after all this time.

Sunday I’m going to have a conversation. I probably won’t report on it. But there will be feelings involved.

I’m watching a lot of Netflix. I slept in the meditation room because I really didn’t want to be in the big bed alone. I slept ok but not great. Better than expected, to be fair.

Now I need to get off my ass and figure out breakfast then go take the gestational diabetes test. Then a massage. Then a tea party.

It’ll be a good day.

When I get home I get to sort paperwork. This has been on my To Do list for about 9 months. Sigh.

Goodbye love

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Noah and the kids are off on an adventure. This is the first time Noah has ever taken the kids on a trip by himself.

I have complete confidence that they will do well and they will have a good trip.

It’s nice being married to a person I trust to be competent and successful at the tasks he takes on.

I’m having interesting thoughts about the future of moving with Noah and seeing him outside this bubble. I suspect it will become more important that I never say a snotty or demeaning thing about him because outside of this bubble… he doesn’t need to be taken down a peg or two. In this valley his head is a bit swelled. He won’t be valued in the same way in other places.

That’s important for me to think about. Because he has actually earned most of the adulation he gets in the valley and I’m a snot for being rude to him.

Thoughts.

Babble babble

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I’m about to talk to Jenny and I don’t want to spend the whole time being a self absorbed twat waffle so I’ll talk about myself here first and then hopefully I’ll be a better listener. It takes coaxing and patience to get her to take her full share of talking time and if I’m feeling self obsessed that’s hard.

God I’m having such a hard time listening lately. I feel overwhelmed by the intensity of being inside my body and my brain. I feel like I can’t bear it by myself. And I know that isn’t ok. I know that wanting other people to carry around pieces of me for me because I can’t bear the load isn’t right. It’s codependent or inappropriate or needy or something bad.

Being inside of me all day every day is so hard. And I feel like I understand why that is challenging for people to be around.

I share the best parts of me with my kids. The very best I have to offer this life in terms of patience and giving and love. And they wear me all the way the fuck out. I sometimes feel like I get to the end of the day and there is no room left inside me for good feelings for myself. I gave everything good I had away and all I’m left with is the bad.

And I have this super strong internalized sense that sharing the bad parts with other people makes me horrible. I am a monster. I’ve had therapists tell me that I’m far too damaged to ever talk about my life in front of people–it is abusive.

Therapists are authority figures. It’s complicated and dangerous.

I am abusive if I share the parts of me that are the hardest to carry all by myself.

I mean… I get that there have to be boundaries around it. My kids don’t know what has happened to me. They know that sometimes I cry because a long time ago bad things happened and my body stored bad feelings.

Am I really never allowed to talk to consenting adults without abusing them? Shit lady I don’t want to know what you think of me beating my friends until they bleed. I make them ask me nicely first…

And so I’m left in this situation where if I talk about the things that are hardest for me to carry alone I am an abusive bully. I am only supposed to talk about things that are appropriate for other people. Whatever that may be.

So instead I drop it into the void. Where if you read it is your own fucking fault motherfucker. I’m not allowed to get out of my head. You don’t have to be here.

I mean, you are welcome.

But if you choose to be here I am not abusing you by existing and talking about myself.

There have to be some fucking boundaries in this world that work in my favor.

Struggling for moderation.

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This morning my feelings are big again. Not screaming big. I want to cry again. I’m having trouble with keeping my emotions where they “should” be.

A few days ago Noah commented to me that everything in our family is centered around me. There are ways that I can perceive this where I kind of nod and say, “Yeah that’s true” and I’m also struggling with how score keeping I am in my head around, “Well I do A and B and C and D and E and F and G and H and none of that is for me…”

I am struggling with this word “everything” because if everything centered around me I would have had Thanksgiving at home. Instead of getting into a situation where I got to spend my day entertaining a friend’s mother. She is a nice lady. I’m not saying that talking to her is the end of the world. But I said before the event that I didn’t really want to spend my Thanksgiving that way. And that’s what happened.

I feel really guilty that I’m kind of relieved that the RPG was cancelled for this month (I’m very sorry for the reason it was cancelled–one of the hosts having a parent die is really sad) because it means I get to go to one holiday party with people who feel like they might be my friends. Otherwise I just wasn’t going to have a holiday party at all this year that wasn’t about me sitting in a corner trying to look blank instead of pissed off or crying.

I feel like a whiny piece of shit because I did get to talk to friends this weekend. I shouldn’t feel so lonely.

I know Noah didn’t mean “everything” in a hyperbole dramatic sort of way. And a really fucking lot of our whole life really does revolve around me. That’s a fact. That’s not hyperbole in the slightest. I have more limits than most of the people in my family and that does impact everything we do from driving to how long we stay places. It’s not a mean thing to point out.

But I’m feeling petty and small and bad because it also feels like it erases how much of our life is not about me.

Do you know how many hours a week I spend listening to conversations about video games? I really struggle with the idea that “everything” in our life revolves around me. If it were up to me do you know how many hours a week I would have to hear about video games? Less than one. But instead it’s probably upwards of thirty hours a week. I’m not fucking kidding.

And I’m not sure if what I’m whining about is really what is bothering me. But I’m not sure I know/can talk about what is actually bothering me.

A friend brought us something yesterday that is for Noah to go have an experience. The friend was shocked that I would let Noah go do that without me. I had a thought similar to how I perceived comments about the road trip, “You act like we ask each other permission….” There’s a thing Noah wants to do. Why would he ask me if it was ok? He consulted me about timing because disappearing on the family is a thing we negotiate in terms of when but not if. Not rather we can or not. We don’t do that.

But I think that the persons reaction fed into my wonkiness about “everything is about me”. We all have our separate stuff. We are all centered at times. We are all fawned over and we all get to add things into the calendar. I’m scared shitless I’m going to do this balance badly and hurt my kids because I am a narcissistic piece of crap.

I resent the fact that the kids can do academic work for hours and it doesn’t “count” for the school unless they do it in a particular workbook format. And yet I also feel malicious glee that my children are experiencing externally imposed bullshit formatting for the first time. And they can’t say it is my fault.

It was pointed out to me that I should probably start thinking about packing a hospital bag. Oh. Yeah. I uhhh have never done that before. Or maybe I did? I don’t remember. Ha. It certainly wasn’t something I took seriously. Me and my hubris. I’m looking at online lists. I have no idea how this birth will go. I wish I didn’t feel so scared and empty and incapable.

I feel scared I crossed some lines with a friend yesterday. They want to be a parent and they were asking me about some of my judgey opinions about parenting and I may have run off at the mouth more than I should have. I did include a disclaimer about “I know I sound completely convinced that my opinions are right and all other opinions are wrong but I know that I’m wrong about a lot of things. I just don’t know which things. I sound certain of my perception for my reality… but I do understand that other people don’t live in my reality so what is true for them may be different.”

I was asked how many hours a parent must spend with a child in order to be a good parent. I said I don’t think it’s about how many hours a parent spends. I know impoverished families where both parents work multiple jobs and the kids don’t see them a lot. Those kids know they are loved. Those kids know their parents are out earning a living in order to make them be ok and safe. I know rich families where the parents don’t see the kids a lot and the kids know that their parents would rather hang out with friends having fun than see them.

It’s not about the hours spent. It’s about the priorities demonstrated.

I feel like if I have an overarching guiding principle to my parenting it is a mix of attachment theory, harm reduction methodology, behaviorism, and unschooling/child led learning.

I believe there is no one right way to parent. Every child needs something different.

Every parent has different things to offer. This is good.

But your kids see how you set your priorities. They see how you spend your time and money and energy.

They learn what you do.

Families don’t have to look a certain way to be “good”. But… I do judge a lot of what I see. Because I am a judgmental asshole.

Fuck.

Now I need to take off my nice warm pajamas (that are warmer than any two layers of other clothes) and get dressed to take the kids in for flu shots. Yes we are late in the season. Normally I am not a huge fan of the flu shot. We get it some years. Mostly we don’t. But I’m having a newborn in February.

Flu shots for everyone! Yay! I’m making Noah go in for a general check up too since it has been years.

Control freak bitch.

Super cool birthday party

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I find incredible joy in how often I have to refill the hand soap dispensers in my house. I’m a fascist control freak so my kids know they can’t play with the soap willy-nilly… which means they wash up a lot. Victory!

This is very relevant because yesterday we went to a waste water treatment plan. As in the place where they process all the poop. WASH ALL THE HANDS.

A kid we knew from the home school group we used to hang with was turning five. (He’s in one of the few families that still come over to hang out…) He asked his family for a poop party. Because his family is awesome… they delivered. They had it all. First we went on a tour of the treatment facility so we could learn all about poop. It’s a neat process. They talked about how there are multiple stages of decontamination and removing particles and removing other objects and essentially baking the poop to kill the dangerous bacteria and how is the water purified enough to go back to the bay and…. they usually do school tours. They said they had NEVER been asked to host a birthday party before. Ha.

After the educational and entertaining tour around the plant we used their break room for the party. After games in the courtyard. The games in the courtyard were pretty cool. They played poop the potato and pop the poop. So for poop the potato you had to start on the far side of the courtyard with a potato between your legs and you had to run/walk without dropping the potato alllllll the way to the bucket, then you needed to sit like you were on a toilet and let the potato go. That led to some pretty hilarious antics if you ask me. Pop the poop was just sitting on balloons. Less entertaining but the kids thought it was great. Who doesn’t want to explode a balloon with their butt?

The poop piñata was pretty ridiculous. As is standard for these parties I was the crowd enforcer. It was funny how the mothers I knew from the group kind of sighed and said, “We’ve missed you… it’s so hard to keep them under control for this part of the party.” Not for me! “GET BACK OR YOUR FACE WILL BE SMASHED. NO WE DON’T GET TO SWING THE BAT AGAIN UNTIL YOU GET BACK.” 

In the piñata they had poop shaped stuffies and poop shaped pencil sharpeners and poop rubber duckies and chocolate kisses with poop stickers on them and pencils with plungers on the back and… I feel like there was more I’m forgetting. It was over the top and fabulous and completely on topic and I’m super impressed.

They had poop balloons and poop streamers and a poop happy birthday sign and a poop cake.

The older sister made the poop cake. It was mostly a chocolate layer cake with really thick frosting to shape into a poop pile. But it looked disgusting and tasted delicious. Perfect.

Oh my god. They had little jello shot glasses. The jello was yellow. Inside the bottom of the cup were little chocolate jelly beans. They looked absolutely like a toilet full of pee and poop. It was horrible and yet the kids said it was really tasty. I…. I loved it. Well done y’all.

Sausage pizza of course so the meat bits looked like little poop piles. WHY NOT?!

It was fantastic. I feel like I have never been to so intense of a birthday party. That was themed. And it was fun because I got to see folks I haven’t seen since before the road trip. There was one little girl in particular who saw my kids, squealed so loud she almost shattered ear drums and then barely let FMC be 1′ away from her for the rest of the day. And this little girl has several enby’s in her life so she was super defensive of FMC’s ‘they’ pronoun with everyone at the party. That really rocked for FMC. They felt so loved and seen and important.

It was a fantastic day. I’m grateful we were invited and I’m glad we went even though the driving was kind of stressful.

I felt kind of like a self involved asshole because I kept trying to ask people questions about what is going on with them and they deflected back to “Tell me more about the pregnancy” so I spent most of the day repeating the same information about my physical health and I always worry that makes me overly self involved. But people kept asking me the same questions…. I was trying to get the topic away from me… I just failed.

I like those people and I miss hanging out with them. I don’t miss the driving and there is no way I could rejoin the group. I can’t drive that far consistently. It hurts so much. Oakland and Alameda are just too much driving for frequent socializing.

This is part of why I want to leave the bay. It’s not that there aren’t wonderful people here. But it is necessary to spend 2+ hours/day in the car driving in order to see them and I just physically can’t.

It was nice seeing people after 2.5 years though. It was funny how many of them stood there and argued with me that it couldn’t have been that long. Uhm. I got home 2 years ago from a 6 month trip and I haven’t seen you since returning. How could it be less time elapsed than that!?

This is like people who tell me I got into the bdsm community at 16. Nooo…. I’d remember that. I was an adult.

It’s been a few days since I’ve had the buzzy, panic feeling inside my brain/body. That’s good. It’s a lot easier to be patient/nice when it isn’t happening.