*phew* Talk about code switching. In the last day or so I have gotten to be a lot of people. I call them my Bonus Kids

I really don’t know what I want. I’m negotiating things at the last minute mostly in ways that don’t feel very respectful of our marriage. (Err, for the record nothing unusual or unexpected happened tonight on the date.)

I didn’t break another boundary.

Noah’s feeling paranoid and he should. I’m not being consistent. I’m abandoning long-held fanatical beliefs with barely a shrug.

I don’t know why or what I want.

What am I doing?

I’m hurting Noah. That’s a complicated thing. He feels inadequate.

I have felt inadequate all these years of being expected to just… get off… and I couldn’t. What was happening to my body was not anywhere near enough to get me off and… just suck it.

Forever.

I feel small and shameful. I am so selfish. This is kinda like when I left my Owner. I’m tired of my sex life being about someone else’s amusement and not mine. And that means I’m a huge asshole because I’m saying Noah is inadequate.

Tonight I was asked if I always come that easily.

No. I don’t. That’s… unusual. That’s early shit. I’ve never sustained that with someone all the time full time for years. I’ve come by far the closest with Noah. We do have sex that gets me off, sometimes even more than that.

But I have to push and push and push and push and …

I’m supposed to be the bottom. If I push that hard to get where I’m going that means I’m leading and not bottoming.

I can’t inspire Noah to want to play with me the way I want. Not with begging or pleading or years of trying.

But who is inadequate?

I think there is a lot of inadequacy to go around here.

I can’t make my body just… do what you want it to do. Who is inadequate? I can’t be content hiding in my house listening to Noah and the kids talk about comic books and video games forever.

I drive everything in this house. I drive what we do, where we go, what we learn, how we behave, what we use our resources on, how we save…

It goes on and on and on and on.

Lists of things I have to figure out and push that I feel completely and totally inadequate to be the adult about but Noah doesn’t want to do it so either it gets neglected or I fucking do it. Things that are totally above my paygrade and education background to understand but I have to be ready right now so just go.

Who is inadequate?

I’ve spent most of my life honing my sexual skills for hunting and negotiating. I can’t talk my husband into the kind of sex I really want.

Who is inadequate?

Pushing people into sex they don’t really want is a core white hot trigger for me. And I have spent a large portion of my relationship with Noah feeling like I’m trying to force a lactose intolerant person to eat a tub of ice cream. What I want isn’t healthy or necessary or probably psychologically positive unless someone is really motivated to have it all on their own. And Noah isn’t that tempted to play how I like playing. I god damn know by now.

I spend a lot of time wondering why I picked a partner who really doesn’t want me for the extensive customization I worked on. I don’t understand which small slice of me was the slice he was looking at when he thought he wanted the whole thing.

Everyone narrows who they are in life. Who you can be is a reflection, in part, of who the people around you will allow you to be.

Noah can do monogamy just fine. He doesn’t lose interest or flag or feel sad about how we have sex. He’s doing great.

Who is inadequate?

I feel really bad about how much I liked what I did tonight. Not because I feel bad about liking it. Because I feel like it reflects how I don’t really deserve Noah.

I don’t feel all that good about the fact that I’m just not as happy if I’m not having sex with people and getting to ask them questions about themselves.

Am I misleading you internet? Sometimes. I’m not letting you know how piss poor I’m doing at communicating a lot of what I’m doing to Noah. I’m seriously being an asshole. He’s justified in all of his feelings right now.

I feel like I’m being mean. I’m being mean in part because I’ve said what I wanted in terms of sex for over twelve years now. I’m feeling very inadequate that I’ve only managed to get to the sex life we usually have. I feel shitty that the quota is what I can god damn accomplish. I’ve seen those tally marks. I know how many of those were meh. I know how many of those I didn’t get off at all.

Who is inadequate?

I can’t make it all work like magic by myself while other people get to show up to the Krissy show. Yes you have to do work at the Krissy show. We Are Workers, Not Shirkers. Sorrynotsorry.  You like the results of the work we do. Even as you complain about feeling boring.

No. I didn’t get hit tonight. That was… part of my thought process in not going to Renegades again. I thought I’d be more likely to stick to that if I stuck to someone who was actually interested in sex. (And Noah doesn’t like how many invitations I drop when I go to Renegades anyway. Fair enough. I haven’t followed up but there are a whole bunch of sharks there that are probably smelling blood.)

It isn’t that Noah isn’t up for sex. He’s up for sex any time I ask. I want to be kind of an asshole and talk about the rest of how that goes and why it isn’t working for me right now.

There’s something I’m running up against in my play with other people. I will do things… and they stop me.

Nope. I’m not the top.

Oh.

Fuck. 

I think Noah is a lot more switchy than we want to admit and I think that is part of the problem. I don’t think I’ve really thought about it that way.

I don’t know.

It isn’t that I never get off with Noah. It isn’t that Noah never puts effort in to get me off over and over. Sometimes he does. When I tell him to.

Sigh.

I feel like a cum dumpster and not like a sex toy. Now there’s a fucking distinction. I feel like our sex life is about the result of Noah coming and not about playing with me as a fun toy. It’s a weird difference.

Hilarious.

I think that’s part of why the hypnosis stuff works as well as it does. It is one of the few things where you entirely lead.

That’s where you will push and tweak. Because it is your fantasy and that’s fine. I’m not cranky. I’m just… noticing. And you won’t do that kind of play with me until I’m a giant asshole and I go out and play with a bunch of other people and break rules like a giant asshole trying to get closer and closer to what I want.

What the fuck do I want.

I want to come like I did tonight. No, I wasn’t hurt. Well, maybe a little. Like vanilla sex hurting with a teeny bit of finger nails and nipping of nipples. But let me tell you it wasn’t pain play like I’ve been doing.

I wasn’t punched, slapped, kicked, or hit with a large object. I was grabbed roughly while someone enthusiastically fucked me. That doesn’t count.

I won’t even have marks.

Doesn’t count. It was kissing and not being allowed to do things and fucking and being appreciated.

I know you appreciate me Noah. But you complain that I am not complaisant enough to follow. You complain that I am not obedient enough. All while needing me to lead fucking everything all the time.

It was weird tonight. On one hand I had this shock of how dare he and on the other hand I felt like oh yeah… I remember this.

When I did stuff that was pushy he just pulled my hand away and pinned it. It wasn’t a fight it wasn’t a snotty thing. He’s leading. Just… shush.

The bdsm without sex is like that but more extreme. I’m doing what I’m doing to you now. Shush. Just… accept. That’s what my relationship with my Owner was about. That’s a lot of why he couldn’t see so many things about me. He wanted to treat me how I asked him to treat me and it required not having too much sympathy for me.

Noah wants to be sweet and sensitive and never ever hit a trauma button because he lives with that all the time so he needs me to lead so that he doesn’t ever feel like he’s doing something wrong.

So I have to lead. Always.

Probably not always but it is a significant majority of the time. Like whoa.

I have this thing about leading and following. If someone is dithering, fine motherfucker. I guess I’m leading. But I want to follow so fucking badly.

Even as it weirdly hurt my feelings and made me mad tonight when Deity took my hand off his face to pin it above my head… it also made explode into orgasm. Because it was hot. Because he was making my body do what he wanted for sex.

It’s complicated though because too much of that and I shut down and get dissociated and I just… manage to be complaisant through not being present. Noah has dealt with the fall out of too much of that.

So I feel inadequate. Because that is probably something Noah would have done fine at if I hadn’t trained him out of it through giving intense mixed signals and periodically punishing him when he guesses wrong.

By punishing him I mean crying and freaking out for hours or days.

Noah I’m really sorry I’m making you feel inadequate.

I need to… not schedule for a bit. For realz. I have enough on my calendar.

I need to figure out what the fuck I want before I push Noah harder.

I feel resentful of my sex life being measured in someone else’s orgasm for years and mine is just irrelevant. And yet a lot of my frustration is around wanting to be used for someone else’s entertainment? That’s… obnoxious of me. I like fucking people who are super excited to play with someone they can get off the way they can get me off so they stop and concentrate on it. Noah… doesn’t always do that. And I’m really tired of trying to set up barriers and hurdles to force Noah to take more time and…

I’m tired of leading it.

I feel like he’s only interested in as much access as necessary to get what he needs and then he’s good.

And that… doesn’t even get me started. Why bother? Why turn on for that? I don’t need to be here for that. This is Business Time. It’ll be over soon. If I get excited then I’ll just get angry with you when it’s over so… ok.

Yeah, I feel inadequate. I am not particularly inspiring.

I’d like to spend today hiding in my garage. I’ve had so many feelingsI feel like I need to crawl into a hole and spend some time thinking about what it all means. Instead I have a date.

There are quite a few factors involved in being a masochist and they entwine in ways that might be unexpected. I was talking to a friend about this today and it seemed to me this might be useful to type out.

So this month I’ve had dates with most of my folks, group dates and otherwise. I have only had penetrative sex with one of them on one of the dates. It just isn’t really happening. I’m having lots of sex free dates this month. After not dating last month.

Feast or famine. What the fuck? Why aren’t I fucking?

I’m not feeling dominant. I’m not feeling bossy. I’m not feeling like saying, “Do this.”

I’m not feeling brave about asking. I’m not willing to risk a “No” right now. Sometimes I can’t.

So I’ll gaze at you with adoration and hope that this feeling will pass. That this divided feeling will go away and I will be able to touch my desire again. Volition. Desire. Wanting. Possession. Ownership.

What does owning my body mean? Fuck if I know.

I didn’t finish everything. I will tomorrow.

Tomorrow morning before I go to martial arts class I will fill the green waste bin and do the weeding in the front. I’m half done with the roses, I can finish in a few minutes. Then I’ll have class. Then I’ll run home. Then I’ll go to an acupuncture appointment.

Then I’ll come home and sand the walls and scrub them again.

Then we have guests who want to talk about mental health. Because excellent. That’s what I’m here for.

Then we have babysitting and we get to go chat with friends. That’ll be nice.

I made some progress on Jenny’s birthday box. But it won’t be sent till Monday. Because I’m a dork.

Didn’t write the letter but I thought of what I want to write and to whom. Just to get it done. Maybe in the predawn hours before I can work outside.

I wouldn’t have gotten so much done if I hadn’t had a three person crew show up to help me. That was magical. I didn’t expect that this project.

Oh thank you, universe. I appreciate the help. They saved me at least a day, probably two of labor.

I am lucky. I am loved.

Why? I will never understand. Do I have to?

Why do I want to date people so fucking much that I’m willing to make big waves in my life?

If you’d seen Cupid’s eyes sparkle maybe you’d understand. If you had seen how my submissive quivers and leans into me… whoa hot. If you wanted a Daddy as bad as I do you’d understand. And my Deity?

I get why Noah worries about being replaced piece meal. But none of these people occur to me as overlapping with Noah. They give me a chance to access parts of myself that are not part of my relationship with Noah. Not because I’m trying to be an asshole.

We all want what we want from one another.

I think Noah would want more parts of me if he understood how they worked. I’d like to show him and I don’t know how without my wonderful foils.

Why?

It isn’t because I’m deficient in sex. 22 times so far this month. We stopped the quota and our sex life kinda exploded. After ten years of marriage that seems alright.

Why do I want to have sex with other people? Why do I want to kiss that guy from the munch? Hell, why do I want to kiss everyone?

Oxytocin, baby.

Why am I not more attracted to kissing girls?

It isn’t a lack of attraction. I just… feel completely inadequate. I have nothing of value or worth to offer so I keep my filthy hands and filthier thoughts to myself.

Why am I not afraid to kiss boys?

They don’t care that I offer nothing. This moment is enough.

Why do I want this so much?

I need to figure this out because it bothers Noah. Fuck.Shit.Fuck.Shit.

What part of it hurts him? Feeling like I am going to run off and fall in love. He’s pragmatic. He knows I love everyone. But then there is falling in love.

Will I wreck his life over my inability to control my cunt? I sure hope not. But I get why he feels fear. I would in his position.

He keeps stressing that I picked exceptionally good people to date; no one is in any way shape or form a problem. But lizard brains don’t care that I picked a good crop of friends to flirt with. Lizard brains care, “Hey. My toy is looking at someone else.” Yeah, I’m a toy. I know it. He’s mine as well so I can’t be too critical.

Why?

Because I get energy from it. I need energy so bad. I need the influx. I do get energy from Noah too. I get as much as he has to give.

Then I start huge projects and use all he has to give and feel… empty.

It’s not fair.

But it is. It happens.

We had our lovely dinner party last night. The conversation was lively and everyone got along. That was good.

I think it is going to take a while before stuff feels comfortable. I think I need to ride the waves of discomfort and feeling like, of all the people at this table I should leave given that they are there for me. I don’t need to avoid them when they are there because they like me.

My brain is not a fun place.

It’s kinda like how i completely wigged out at my 30th birthday. I couldn’t handle that. I could absolutely not psychologically accept that all those people were there because they love me. It felt like a mockery. It felt like really they were there as part of an elaborate hoax and soon they are all going to hurt me.

Paranoia sucks.

Do I really think that a single person last night had negative thoughts? No, but I felt like I should leave anyway. I felt out of my league.

Do you know part of the trouble? I am surrounded by such fantastic, experienced, nearly magical people. Why would they want to waste their time with a loser like me?

I told the Quiet One that I can’t see him. Because Noah doesn’t want me seeing people who won’t do group play. I feel like I just shot myself in the foot. Because that was my solid shot at having someone around who wanted to be helpful during pregnancy.

But Noah is feeling so threatened and scared.

I’m… I’m feeling like maybe a third baby is stupid. I’m not sure I can sign on for another pregnancy of completely overwhelming Noah such that we are both miserable. Not when he is completely against me getting other support.

I wanted that support. I wanted to find out what would happen.

Oh well.

Noah is still pushing for Mardi Gras month. I feel like it would be stupid. I feel like me letting myself want something or someone would be stupid. What if I really liked someone. I liked the Quiet One. Enough that Noah was filled with rage and he feels our relationship is permanently altered.

I destroyed our enmeshment.

Because I’m that good.

I feel like our relationship is permanently altered too. But I don’t know what to do about it. I feel full of distrust, shame, and anger. I feel like in our tempestuousness we have chased off people and I’m pissed about that too.

I did find god damn good people this time. But who in the hell would want to put up with this bullshit?

I feel incredibly hopeless and despondent. I have so little belief we will find a road that will contain happiness for both of us. I feel like I shouldn’t have another kid because I shouldn’t reset the clock on how soon till I can commit suicide.

I promised 12.25 more years. Maybe resetting that isn’t smart.

Know why Quiet One enraged him so much? Because I promised I wouldn’t pick up anyone else who wanted solo time. Then what did I immediately do. I broke my word. Not only did I break my word and want to spend time with someone who is completely anti group play I did it with someone who wanted to be close to my kids. And that is threatening up one side and down the other.

My submissive may offer to take my kids to ice cream, but he doesn’t want to just be a frequent visitor to the house just kinda hanging out doing shit. And that’s the most serious help offer I’ve gotten from anyone.

But I have to say no to it. Because it hurts Noah.

I’m scared I need to turn down the third baby because I can’t go through another pregnancy with how much support I had the first two times. I don’t have room for how depressed I was. It would damage the big kids.

I cannot envision a future without signifiant self mutilation because I cannot envision a future where it will ever be safe to really want what I want. I will always need to just shut up. That requires help.

Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to stop this habit. Maybe I should just be looking for ways to hide it better.

Small points of contention from the currently public narrative. Noah didn’t close any distance to you. He was 10′ away at the stove looking at you. He did not stand a foot away from you. You got up from the table and rushed him while punching your hands. He did not look at you at all until you doubled down on how you were going to threaten me whenever you wanted.

What intimidated me in the store was the fact that I asked you what you wanted and you started screaming at me that I was inappropriate and controlling and you were sick of it and you weren’t going to take that from me. (In your defense when you asked me what my plan was I shrieked “I don’t have a plan” because I had lost all ability to voice modulate.)

Given that your comparison is you weren’t as nasty with me as you were with your children and your children asked you in front of me why you hit them and then tell them they aren’t allowed to cry about it… I feel like being intimidated is reasonable.

Yeah I got nervous.

You didn’t ask me if I was going to cry. You sneered like a junior high bully, “Awwwwww you gonna cry?”

Yeah I will when someone talks to me. Fuck those white bitches.

I used to think I understood what good mothering and bad mothering was. I used to think “like my mother” meant bad. I don’t think that any more. I keep coming back to this Valentine’s Day card I bought for my mother when I was… 23? Around there. I forget exactly. I didn’t give it to my mother. The text says something like, “With every passing year I see that I’m more like you.”

I really am like my mother. But I recently just got a gold star. A good grade on my report card. I was told I’m doing good. I am so much like my mother. What does that mean then?

Maybe being like my mother isn’t all bad.

My mother is an organizer. She can organize stuff and people but people scare her more. She’s had a lot of bad experiences with people so she tends to stick to stuff. I learned that from her. I’m passing it down to my children. I think my Eldest Child will be better at organizing people than I am and I’m several steps up from my mother. But it comes from my mother. Youngest Child (who will need a new nickname at some point–I stopped using their first names for a variety of reasons, including that casual readers constantly asked me to clarify birth order and that’s annoying) seems like someone who will stick with stuff. Kiddo isn’t people oriented in the same way.

Some day my child is going to hate me for believing that they aren’t much of a people person. I can see the writing on the wall. It isn’t that Kiddo has no interest in people it is that Kiddo is very ok with having just a few people around. Kiddo doesn’t need to be broadly popular. As long as Kiddo has a few people in their corner, Kiddo thinks the world is alright. Eldest Child needs everyone to be around and involved. Everyone.

Both kids want me to get my $#!t together and start hosting stuff again because we’d like to see friends more often. But destroyed house. This is not a “Yes” environment and it’s stressful and difficult for everyone. Not to mention that not having a toilet really sucks. We don’t need more people using up the port-a-pottie capacity seeing as technically… we use it more than it is supposed to be used.

Anyway.

I know people who maintain social lives during large scale remodels. I know people who have serious remodels take years and years and I don’t know how they survive that without some serious violence. This is frustrating as fuck.

I feel like I’ve done more than my share of soul searching. I’ve done more than my share of “who am I?” thinking. Yet here I am.

I am the product of rape. I am the daughter of a rapist. I am a rapist.

I am an American. I am violent. I am violence. I am white. I am the perpetrator of white violence in the form of “Nuh uh” but not really greater violence. I have literally only ever been in fights with other white people.

I am a student of history and literature. I’ve read a lot. So what?

I am educated and rich. So what?

I am mean and selfish. I am the problem with the system as I give and give and give. I cannot give enough because my compatriots give nothing.

I feel like lately I am angry with myself all the god damn time. I don’t even know why. Because I cheated on my husband? I didn’t cheat on him, most of the time, I told him before I did it. The only cheating I did was when I spanked two people when I shouldn’t have. That’s not what the colloquial thinks of and that’s ok.