I wish I could say I was being productive. I’m not. I’m staring out the window. Noah asked me if I feel appreciated. I had specific unpleasant things go through my head: “Well I know you are grateful that I feel like I have to have sex with you almost every day.” It’s not like he forces me. Or even pushes. I just feel like I have to.

He wants to know how he could serve me better. I don’t know. I feel like an ungrateful asshole.

I never planned for what I would be working towards once I got to this position. It was kind of an end in itself. It’s not an end. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to grow. I feel stagnant and foul. I’m tired of having my stomach hurt because I am worried people will scream at me for having the stupidity to think I am good enough to appear in public with good people.

It’s kind of funny. We went to a church service last night. Friends got married–this was basically the community reception. The church had a lot of advertising propaganda for HIV/AIDS work. Much of the congregation were obviously queer leather folk. On one hand I felt very comfortable. But I make the assumption that a group like that doesn’t want to be inconvenienced by my children. It’s a fairly non-kid kind of group. I doubt they would actually mind. But it’s 45 miles away. I don’t feel like I have the extra spoons to give it a real shot. The hour drive there and back make it unpleasant with the kids.

This stage will change. I just don’t know how or to what.