Do you know what I find funny? My shrink adamantly told me that she wouldn’t treat me differently if she had known longer about the ADHD. But I’m being offered different drugs now! And everyone is so weirdly peppy about my impulsiveness now. (Everyone being my psychiatrist and my psychologist.)

My impulsiveness is no longer a sign of mania. It’s a sign that I have a magical ability to hyperfocus that other people lack.

But the attitude/treatment is the same! Right?

Nope.

Now I’m on Lamictal. No one mentioned (not the psychiatrist, not the psychologist, not the pharmacist) that there is a major alcohol interaction and you aren’t supposed to drink any alcohol at all while taking it. Oh thanks, everyone. #teamfail That’s an important detail, motherfuckers. Y’all made sure to tell me about the potentially scary as shit rash and every other weird symptom (my psychiatrist said: “You don’t really get common side effects and you get almost every rare side effect so I’ll read those off”) but not a simple, “Alcohol and this seriously don’t mix.”

WTF?

But in other news I have all the pots I want to have in the bathroom. I need 7 more plants to fill them all. When I’m done I’ll have more than two dozen plants in here.

You don’t know what this means to me.

I organized the bathroom last night now that the final piece of furniture is here. Everything fits. Everything is neat and tidy. It looks pretty.

But one of the toilets is running and running and running. I will be drawing their attention to this today. Final inspection… tomorrow?

It is dragging on because we are trotting out every thing wrong with the house. “Oh we have  broken outlet in the garage. We have a leak under the kitchen sink. We have we have we have.”

Final inspection tomorrow? Friday at the very latest?

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. I’M OUT OF MONEY. Ahem. I’m kidding. Only I’m not kidding. The loan we got for the house? It’s within $7k of being maxed out. You can stop working now. You’ve already given me a bill for $6k. Time to be done.

Luckily there are no lump payments at the end. *phew*

The amount we get back from the arbitration will just sit in savings to rebuild the buffer. It isn’t very helpful in terms of paying back debt. Because $9k barely makes a dent.

How did this become my life? I deal with quantities of money that make me want to puke.

The loan is so high because my credit cards are paid down to zero. They are above 18% interest. The loan is at 3%.

My mortgage is down to about $50k. Which means I’m back up to $220k of debt. I was here like 6 years ago. Weep.

The last two years I haven’t been focusing on debt repayment enough. The road trip and the cruise ate a lot of god damn money that, if I were more responsible, I would have put on my house.

Self control is not the easiest thing in the world. But I want the freedom that lack of debt represents so bad. Why did I make such an expensive fucking bathroom? Wait till you see it. It’s magic. I’m going to spend a lot of my life in this room. I don’t regret a penny.

Why am I on a new drug? Because impulsiveness is creeping up. Know how I went a little nutty last year at nearly this time with stepping out in ways that weren’t ok with Noah? Is it partially spring fever?

I’m antsy and I’m not yet at the point where I’m getting in trouble but I can sure smell the potential in the air. I want. I want to hunt.

Which feels so awful in so many ways. My psychiatrist said, “Maybe you could explore more intimacy with your husband.” I laughed. I told her that I can’t afford enough babysitting to pay for Noah to satisfy me. She looked confused. I told her that she dramatically underrates my capacity. I go through periods where I like having sex 10-25 times a week. With lots of people. No, the amount of sex I can get with my husband is not…

Not what I’m hankering for when I am pawing the ground and WANTING.

I feel so many feelings and they are all tangled up. It isn’t even that I want to have sex with other people. Though I wouldn’t mind. It isn’t that I’m longing for a particular person. I want the hunt and I feel so ashamed.

The older I get the more I see this impulse in myself as being kind of awful. I don’t form real relationships where I support other people when I’m hunting. I drop in for a few hours and leave. I’m not here to support you. I’m here to have fun while you have fun and then I’m moving on. This isn’t about mutual life support.

I feel ashamed because I feel like I mislead people. I feel like we hurt multiple mostly-female identified (that’s a complicated explanation) last year because they expected a lot more relationship and support in their sex than we as a couple were handing out.

We are selfish assholes and that really sucks.

It isn’t that I don’t want to have more of a relationship with people I have sex with. It’s that it is very friendship and very “What I have to spare” shaped instead of being more like a dating/romantic relationship where you bloody well better stretch for each other. I feel like this demonstrates how selfish and how completely inappropriate for polyamory I am. The kind of support people are supposed to give… I don’t really give.

I want to drop in for the sex, provide some emotional support, pat you on the head and leave.

Only I also want to be friends with you and hear about your life and your family and what makes you tick.

I’m selfish and I care about what I want more than what anybody else wants.

Supposedly this Lamictal crap is going to help keep me from impulsively fucking up my life. It will slow my brain down. It should be something close to being very stoned, but fucking cheaper. $1.98 for 30 pills. Holy tomato that’s god damn miraculously cheap. I’d god damn love to save the money I spend on pot.

Money money money. My whole family is weird bouncing off me and money. My kids have an interesting point of view. Can’t waste food because oh no we might waste $4. But let’s go on a stupid expensive cruise. What the ever loving fuck?

My psychiatrist asked me why I don’t go running more to sublimate my feelings. I said because I guarantee you I could find people to fuck on my running route. They could be strangers standing outside. I’m good.

Her eyes got wide. I don’t think she has nearly as broad of an experience background as she wants to believe.

But who really does? I probably am not as experienced as I want to believe.

I’m supposed to seriously step down the pot usage on this drug because otherwise I might be a zombie who is incapable of thinking/processing/getting shit done. All in the name of making me “better”.

I am a better person if I am less me. This is one of the most true statements I know.

I was invited to Alaska for up to 10 days in August. I’m trying to decide how many days I can handle. I’m very excited. I shouldn’t spend the money but luckily it is only plane fare then I get to stay with friends. I get $100 of slush/fun/disposable money for myself. If I don’t do anything fun before then my plane ticket won’t be a big deal. My slush fund mostly goes for bubble tea these days. Holy tomato I love bubble tea.

I’m going much further north in Alaska this time. One of my buddies is up there. I want to talk to him. I haven’t done so in many years. I met him when I was 19. He came to town to stay with/play with my boyfriend. Of course this resulted in us having a multi-year on/off play relationship. I went to his wedding but my (by then ex) boyfriend wasn’t invited. Ha. I got the best man out of this dynamic. Nyah. Ahem. I’m kidding. I still adore my ex. He’s a good man too. And my buddy isn’t mine the way some of my friends are mine. We’re loosely leather family but the bonds are a bit weak since I had kids.

That’s how it is with most of the leather community for me. I’m… barely still connected. It isn’t that I lack love. I lack time.

But I get to go to Alaska. I’m so excited. He will be recovering from surgery so we won’t be super outdoorsy and athletic but that’s ok. I will hike alone. With a gun because you need one for bears. I’ve done it before.

That feels good to say. I’m competent to go hiking with a gun to protect myself from bears. Maybe I should visit the shooting range again before going, but it’s just a refresher cause it’s been a while.

Thank you, dear Owner. You taught me so many useful life skills. Like: how to stop a bear. You were a good Daddy.

I take lessons from whoever can offer them.

I’m kinda focusing on Alaska so I don’t shoot myself in the foot with impulsive desire to not be bored. I have something to look forward to! Eye on the prize!

This is why I maintain a balance of short, medium, and long-term goals. Otherwise I have no way to handle my enormous impulsivity. I want. I want. I want.

I want to go on craigslist and find someone and go home with them. I miss craigslist hook ups. I could find someone in less than four hours. Maybe not. There are times I strike out. But not that often! I’m sure that frequency would increase as I get older. But I’m not testing the theory out.

I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING.

But I already feel guilty. Because I want to. Shit.

This is my only day of not being scheduled to run all over the bay this week. Sunday was a birthday party on the peninsula. Monday was driving south for the DMV and errands. Tuesday was Oakland/Berkeley for a bunch of errands and appointments. Today is “rest”. Ha- only kid classes to go to and they are nearby. Tomorrow Eldest Child has an orthodontic appointment in the peninsula. Friday is medical appointments. Luckily Saturday isn’t driving either. Saturday Noah and I have a date to make an elaborate dessert together.

Ok, for the record: Noah is amazing. The cooking and planning and cleaning that he is doing lately blows my mind. He has really… ok I feel like a dick for saying this but he’s manned up. I feel like this is the most motherfucking adult man I’ve dealt with. He gets his shit done. (I have seen other adult men in the wild. They just haven’t been this intimately connected to my life.) He’s getting everything done. He’s adulting like women I know. That’s sexist and bigoted and awful but holy crap. He’s as effective as a woman and that makes me want to kneel down and kiss his feet. Holy shit thank you honey.

My shrink stays telling me I need to be nice to him forever because she’s never in her life heard of a husband who is so accommodating and awesome.

I don’t deserve what I have in any way shape or form. I’m an ungrateful twatwaffle who talks bad about his demographic all the time. I’m so mean. But he stays anyway and he’s nice to me. He’s so nice to me. He’s nice because he cooks and he cleans and he has learned how to watch that nasty tone of voice with the kids. He’s nice because he wants as much sex as I’m up for and he doesn’t pressure me for more when I can’t physically. He’s nice because he asks me questions every day about how I’m doing on my feed and he adapts based on the vagaries of my body–the entirely unpredictable, constantly changing vagaries of my body.

Noah is generous and loving in a way I have never experienced from a single other person on this earth. I don’t even know what to do with that.

I’m trying to not fuck it up. I’m taking another drug in hopes that it will help me settle into the traces and be a good wife instead of a flailing fuck up.

Slow down my brain. Maybe then I can be good. Mask, hide, eliminate my impulses. Maybe then I can be good.

Stop talking, woman. That is what makes you good.

I’m so tired.

Short, medium, long-term goals. Right now I’m planning for kid college, paying off debt, sorta thinking about the next over seas trip and thinking about Alaska. Because hopefully I won’t fuck anything up if I think about the rewards I have coming.

Hopefully future me will thank me instead of hating me.

I have a lot of good. More good than I deserve. How can I not fuck it up?