Today Shanna announced that it is sometimes appropriate to wear all black. That is a milestone sorta moment.

I’m thinking about the overlap of the movie The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio and failure. What does failure mean?

We are all small pieces in the stories of one another’s lives. I spend a lot of time thinking about the past. It seems to me that other people believe the past should be over and done. In thinking about the past I understand the present. Through perspective I get why I’m doing what I am doing. Why I will do what I will do.

Connect, connect, that’s what we all want. Whether it is through selling something or through buying big old big-ukkkie yuck well. Or something. What the fuck was that? I don’t even know.

White men help white men. White women help… I don’t fucking know.

Sometimes I feel like a race traitor. I don’t type that very often. But I think it. Often.

Especially when I watch movies like like “The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio” and watch how white men are supported without ever knowing the price of bearing them. No one ever says life is easy. This is true.

I think about the past because it helps me figure out why I want to do what I want to do. I want to forget. I want to stop thinking about pain. I want to stop hurting. I don’t know how. I’m told, by asshole men, that the path forward is just to forget. To stop thinking about the things that have happened to me. The things that shaped who and what I am. I am not a dumb grazing animal standing under a tree. I am a complex being.

I am not important.

Don’t get me wrong.

I’m just not stupid. To be fair I’m sure there are asshole women with the same opinion. They just feel less need to track down my Twitter feed to tell me how stupid I am.

“That’s not enough”

“It never is”

“How is Dad going to fill the freezer when he can’t even buy the milk?”

“I have no idea honey but at least he has a goal.” (From the above referenced movie.)

I feel sad. I feel disconnected. I feel like my bills are not the point of life. I pay my bills. Oh fucking well.

I feel happy. I feel connected. I feel like I am unusually well connected with friends. All along the way we toss out some of the most interesting, most enlightened people.

I think a lot about bravery. Why do we try the things we try? Do we have to see someone else do it first? Just try. Just try. What the fuck does autocorrect do anyway?

Violence, meanness, write it down. There is just a hole lot of mean in the world. This is literally just what is pouring out my head as my fingers hurt. Can’t type enough. My problems are many and varied and are never that I’m not happy enough. And all of the problems fall through the hole in the whole world.

End.

End.

End.

The end.

My stomach feels fussed. I wish I could stop thinking about a situation with a person. Maybe it would help. My sweet baby-cakes woke up to babble full-speed about Minecraft. It is hilarious. Right now she is cleaning the floor because she really wants me to play zombies with her.

What do I get out of liking someone so much that I stop liking me?

Ok, she decided tutorials were better than zombies. I see how it is.

I’m really tired. I stayed up much too late for the show. Otherwise I feel like things are going ok. I feel like I am pulling away from the situations where I’m experiencing actual distress. That’s for the best.

I am nervous about an interview today. It is for the campus newspaper where I graduated from college. It was put out on the Rape/incest network. Sure, I’ll show up for an interview. The last one didn’t go anywhere because the reporter went on maternity leave and just…. stopped working. Whoops.

Today will be ok.

On phone. Today I have big feelings. It was really nice to support a small friend through a growing up ritual. Now we are at a music show. They Might Be Giants. This is my 4th? 5th? Time seeing them over 18 years.

I feel reaffirmed in my view that a theatre career is not in my future because staying up hurts.

why such big feelings? It was a good day. I think because I keep understanding new layers about family. Families are hard even when they are easy. I remain overwhelmed with gratitude for my children. Even when they drive me nuts I think they are perfect.

not better than other peoples kids in an objective way. Perfect for me. I feel continually challenged to grow.

Increased the spoon count in my drawer! This is awesome. I ran away from home and spent a day with Sarah. A day remembering that I don’t have to take care of everyone at every time. Sometimes I can just be with someone. Sometimes I’m ok, even if the things I talk about are intense.

Even when what I want to talk about is why we have had huge problems that blew up in our faces. I can trust you to have the conversation and still act like we had the conversation later. It is unique.

I fucking appreciate that Sarah can say that part of the reason she melted down is because as soon as she moved in I added things I was responsible for: writing, Occupy, Wicked Grounds and she couldn’t take what I was sloughing. It helps me see how I screwed up so I can behave differently next time.

I’m not perfect. I screw up. I just don’t necessarily see how my screw ups effect other people. Feedback allows me to tweak.

It’s funny how a few hours with Sarah leave me feeling like I can go accomplish a lot of things. Sarah believes in me.

Splitting the bedrooms is going well. I’m moving the house around again. More furniture is going away. Means more stuff needs to be rehomed or eliminated. I am wicked happy about that. It’s funny how we will have even more of House-by-Ikea after this.

When the things you want and need change, it hurts. It hurts because people still want to give you the things they previously gave you. There is an established pattern to the behavior already. Asking for a change is… complicated.

Mostly it doesn’t work. Relationships mostly don’t evolve very well.

Last weekend Noah did something that he has done many times before. It was ok before. It isn’t ok any more. That’s complicated.

We’ve been talking about it a lot. Like we do. Something needs to change.

Really, a lot of things need to change. I just don’t understand every step of how or to what yet. It hurts. It means Noah hurts me without meaning to do so. It means I need to step back from my feeling of hurt and look at intent and forgive. Even though that sticks in my craw.

I don’t want to be one more white bitch defending not-ok-behavior from a white guy.

Life is very complicated.

Camping was a mixed bag. First: it was a gorgeous location and we will be going back. Second: it really sucks when a group of 29 people shrinks to 5 people within a week of an event. That feels poopy. Every person who needed to cancel had excellent reasons (partner being admitted to the hospital and you don’t know if it is MS, cancer, or something equally as festive… ok I won’t be a bitch about you not going camping). Every single person who cancelled had an equally valid reason and I just can’t be mad at them. But I lost 24 people in a week. That sucks.

Other positive for camping: the one friend who went with us was a treat. I haven’t gotten to talk to her as much as I would like over the years and I got to have extra time. That was nice.

Other negative for camping: I brought two fucking stoves and neither worked so we couldn’t cook. That was incredibly stressful but not actually a big deal nutritionally. I was prepared. Unfortunately, me being me, I wanted to turn the malfunctioning stoves into proof that I am a fucking loser who should be shot. Because I’m awesome at the rational follow-ups and all. My shrink and I talked about this. I am getting better and better about being able to verbalize while I’m freaking out that I “know” that I’m not having trouble with the stove because I’m stupid. But in my head that is the only thing happening. Stupid. Stupid. Worthless. Moron. God you can’t do anything right.

Even though I got us there and we had plenty of food even without cooking. Clearly I am a failure as a human being. Or something!

I’d like a new brain.

I had terrible anxiety all weekend. I was very grateful that my friend said out loud that she was bleeding so funny facial expressions were related to that. I felt so much relief. Thank you for telling me it isn’t my fault that you are having a hard day. Holy shit I appreciated that. I spent half the weekend shaking because I was afraid she was going to hate me for doing so many things wrong.

I can’t even fucking cook dinner. Because I’m a loser. Why would anyone want to be friends with me?

Uhm, she was very gracious and supportive and kind about the whole thing. I’m mean to me more than my friends are.

Also, I spent time being pissed off because Shanna was no help at all. Which really isn’t like her. So I picked up the 7 year old book! Oh hey! 7 year olds are known for being unhelpful assholes. Hurray!

I’m telling you, these books  are probably the reason that I am as good of a parent as I am. They are really explicit about which behavior issues happen when and why they are developmentally appropriate and then she tells you how to handle them. Many problems she says, “Ignore it and it will go away. Pay attention to it and you will have it forever.” This woman is a god damn genius. I am so grateful to her hard work.

She is very clear that she is talking about averages and every child is an individual but she talks about the ranges that are common. So far Shanna is about 3 months ahead of the development curve, but she has sat at that point since before she was 2 years old. These books are wonderful.

I shouldn’t say “unhelpful assholes” because that’s… that’s strong wording. Seven year olds are known for being so self-absorbed they become way less helpful for a time. They are too busy looking inward at all the little “mean” things they experience. That’s ok. I’m self-absorbed like that. I can find a way to make room for it.

And I will be much more patient if I have a nice lady from the 1970’s telling me that this is a phase where I cannot expect ready help. I will have to ask for and demand most of the help I get for a while or I can whistle for it. It is good to know that I’m heading into that kind of phase. It changes my behavior a lot.

I have coasted a lot on the fact that Shanna is naturally empathetic, kind, generous and helpful. There are going to be ages and phases where that is less true. If I am compassionate about her not being in the mood… she will get back to the mood. If I remind in kind ways, she will later remind me in kind ways.

You get back what you give. I mean, not perfectly… but in the long run. My kids are very nice to me because I have modeled the behavior I want to receive. When I have a problem with their behavior I meticulously examine my own behavior to see what I need to change about what I’m modeling. I don’t directly address “their” stuff that much.

Ok, I’m working with Shanna on not flipping people off all the time. It’s unconscious. She didn’t even know what it meant. She just likes pointing with her middle finger a lot. That I will directly say, “Ahh. You don’t know that you are making a rude gesture. Let’s talk about that.” I can directly address some issues without shame or fuss. Why do I freak out so much about the forking stove? I think it is tied into my food-nurturing-abandonment-neglect cycle of stuff.

Today I went to therapy and said, “Noah and I had a long chat and we think that I need to work on ______.” My therapist blinked hard and said, “Noah helped you decide what?” Then she listened a bit more and said, “In my 18 years as a therapist I may have said this one other time but I’m not sure–you have the perfect partner for you.” I grinned my shit eating grin and said, “I know!”

We didn’t do EMDR. We decided to do somatic work instead because EMDR can actually trigger heavy suicidal ideation in someone who is already abreacting. Wheeee. If the goal is to help me calm down, I need to calm down before I can do the heavy lifting to calm down.

Sometimes my life seems very unfair.

We talked about grieving the loss of a potential relationship and how that is almost as hard as losing a real relationship. We talked a lot about why I pick the people I pick to try and have relationships with. She flat told me to create more space in one relationship because I can’t fix other peoples problems and I get very enmeshed. If I love someone and they are struggling emotionally… I’m struggling emotionally. Which isn’t actually useful. Not for me and not for the person I would purportedly like to support.

It is weird having my therapist tell me that I should only spend time with a given person if I have set, concrete plans as a back up because I should assume that person will flake. Don’t depend on people to be there to fill your time. Fill it by yourself.

I’m not being much support to anyone lately. I’m not supporting Noah very well. I’m doing… less well than usual with the kids. I think there have been periods of being less engaged, but I’m not doing that much for them.

I’m not playing games. I’m not reading. My throat feels tight all the time. It goes along with the burning belly. I can sit with them and snuggle. I provide food. I talk. I talk about things all day long. I don’t retreat into a dark room any more. But I won’t play the video games they want me to play with them. Just, no. Not my thing.

So I’m telling them no a lot but I’m very certain they aren’t being neglected. I’m not doing as much as I want to be doing.

I’m not being much support for my friends. Once in a while I’ll have a conversation with someone where I work really hard on listening and being supportive. Mostly I’m being a self-absorbed twat.

It isn’t even really that I want to talk about me. I just don’t want to hear about anyone else. I feel like I don’t know who I am and where the boundaries are between me and other people and listening to their lives gets very confusing because I start feeling like I can’t remember if I’m remembering stories people told me about their life or if I’m remembering my life.

I feel permeable. Mushy. Alterable. Unfixed.

But I got to see my Bonus Kids today. We went to the Lawrence Hall of Science. Both kids were very upset that they didn’t get to ride in the van. My heart just about exploded when they both complained loudly about not getting to be with me the whole time. Thank you for wanting to be near me. I want to be near you too.

Even though I was a little mean to the Bonus Baby today. She wanted to take off and run away from us. I picked her up and carried her down the stairs as she screamed her head off. I am very mean. Sorry kiddo, diaper changes aren’t optional no matter how much fun you are having. I’m mean mean mean. I can live with it. So can you. We will both do ok with my strange fanaticism around not sitting in waste products. Neiner, neiner, neiner.

Usually she doesn’t fight me about diaper changes. Her mom says it is normal. Fair enough. Shanna was a serious pain in the ass about diaper changes. She fought like a fish on a line. It was awful. Then I figured out standing diaper changes and they got slightly less hellish.

I am so god damn glad I’m done with diapers. Kids are a pain in the butt. Some day I may have grand kids. I may require serious bribery to change diapers.

Or, let’s be realistic, I will scoop the kid away and say “I’ll do it!” like I did today with my Bonus Kid.

If you take care of the physical needs of a child they will remember you as a trusted caregiver. I want to take care of children. I want them to remember me. I want them to trust me to keep them safe and teach them things they need to know. And unfortunately diaper changes are one of the first things that is a real need that can be performed by anyone, not just mom. So I will continue to volunteer. And feel STUPID the whole time because WHY IN THE HELL DO I OPT IN TO DAIPER CHANGES?! Because then I have a Bonus Baby who sees me and says, “Krissy! I missed you!” as she hugs me fervently.

I missed you too. I’m so glad to see you again.

It was funny talking to my friend while camping this weekend about the amorphous concept of friendship. She is more of an out-of-sight-out-of-mind person. She sees people to keep them fresh in her head.

I still sit down to have a cuppa with Brittney and Anna. I will talk to myself out loud. All the stories I want to share with them. “When Shanna did ___ it reminded me of when we were 5 and we went to ____. Do you remember that?”

I think about my friends. I rehearse their names and remind myself that I love them and … probably… they love me. I think about what I should be doing to demonstrate my love more frequently and I beat myself up for not having the spoons to carry more relationships more fully.

I think about my friends. I think about the people I don’t see much any more because life circumstances have changed. I think about how glad I am that they are in the world even if I don’t see them any more.

I think about all of my lovers. Well… ok there are a few one night stands I have probably completely forgotten. Let’s be honest. People who made it past a third date make it through my mental rotation. I listen to music I associated with them during our relationship and I wish them well.

I have very few people I wish ill on. It’s bad juju and I just try to avoid it. Sometimes I am so mad that it slips out anyway. Mostly I try to get better about having my ill wishing be limited to things like a bird pooping on their head. I would not feel guilty about my joy in that circumstance. Especially if it happened right in front of me. I could not contain my glee. It would be wonderful. But I am working hard on that being the limit.

It is funny how most of the people I’ve had problems with make it through the rotation. I have a cuppa and think about why things went wrong. What did I do wrong? There is always something. Sometimes I did a lot wrong and sometimes I did a little wrong and it didn’t matter that it was only a little.

There is no fair. There is what is.

I got stupid and this week got overbooked. Hoo boy. After camping we have plans with folks five straight days. Long plans. The shortest visit will be three hours.

I want to touch base with a lot of people before we leave. I’m not going to get to everyone who is important to me. I would collapse.

I can literally book 60 hours a week of socializing. But I don’t tend to feel “healthy” afterwards.

Balance is an eternal struggle. I was given permission by four separate people in the past five days to be emotionally dysregulated and upset for a while. Yup, it takes fucking forever for me to calm down. Unfortunately bad feelings can be stuffed for a while and then they must be dealt with. You will pay the piper some day. I have stuffed a lot of feelings for a lot of years. There is no more space for stuffing. Instead, I am safe and secure. I can be kind of a mess and I won’t be thrown out. Even if I am difficult for a few months until I calm down my central nervous system the people I worry about the most will still be there when I stop freaking out.

And the people who aren’t still there… I never had them any way.

I told my therapist that I spend a fair bit of time feeling ashamed of the fact that I’m a bad patient. I’m likely to be in therapy for 50+ years and I will still say the same repetitive, stupid shit I said when I was 3.

She said that whereas she believes that I will probably be in therapy for 50+ years… I’m not saying the same things. She said I’m actually one of her favorite kind of patient–the kind who perseveres even though it is a really awful slog sometimes. Yes, I’m hard to work with. My shit is complicated and I have a lot of problems with transference and projection so I work out a lot of my emotional push/pull issues with my therapists. It is not fun to work with. But if you look at the course of my life, most of the bad parts aren’t my fault and I keep working. Even when it feels hopeless. Even when pretty much anyone else would quit… I don’t. She said she is very happy to work with me. She laughed and said, “You are satisfying in a way most people really can’t be.”

I didn’t ask for clarification. Better to let that one just kind of be ambiguous.

I think I push people so much partially because I want to figure out who will leave. Who will put up boundaries. Who is safe. Most people don’t have firm enough boundaries to be safe for me. Lots and lots of people aren’t really dependable enough to be safe for me. That doesn’t make them failures as human beings… it just means that I am foolish if I depend on them.

If I can’t do pattern matching by now then I need to just hang it up.

But a lot of people can be dependable within very narrow parameters. I have many friends who can handle about three hours a year of my company. Some of those people frankly can’t handle my kids.

I go back and forth on whether or not those relationships are worth the effort of carrying my side. Mostly I decide that it is worthwhile because loose ties keep you alive. My shrink thinks I should carry fewer of the relationships. I told her, “Said with the smug assurance of someone who has brothers she can call for help.” First she said that her brothers haven’t helped her in decades.

That’s not the point. Most of my friends don’t seriously help me either. But every so often I need help and I toss out the net and I never know who the hell will show up. She can call her brothers if she needs to. The fact that she hasn’t needed to doesn’t change the fact that she can. (Did your brothers come visit you when you were over seas? Then yes your brothers have done something for you.)

I wanted to edit. I wanted to go through and tie a few ideas together. But Noah just walked outside and said, “Dinner is ready!” Internet, you lose when it comes to dinner. Bye!

I did something in therapy I don’t usually do. My therapist was explaining why some inter-personal stuff might go the way it does and I cut her off. I said, “I am not interested in paying to hear you defend that point of view right now.”

She looked shocked.

There are things where I must “face reality” in order to make progress with my mental illness stuff. There are also big piles of things that if you tell me over and over “That’s just how it is” that I will leave therapy and not pick my kids up and instead drive straight to the edge of the ocean. Because I can’t fix things and I can’t make it better and it is shit. Let’s not do that in therapy, ok?!

I “get” that people are allowed to want to be part of a community with me without being my friend. I don’t need to pay you to tell me in great detail how spending a lot of time with me for years does not mean that people will want to be my friend. I already fucking know that.

What I need are more ways of telling in advance which people aren’t my friend so I stop asking them for support. You aren’t telling me that, you are just telling me that I can’t ask people who aren’t my friends for support. But you aren’t telling me how I can tell which people are my friends and which people are standing near me because anything is better than being home alone.

You just say, “That’s what happens when you ask for support from people who aren’t actually part of your support network.”

HOW IN THE FUCK DO YOU LEARN HOW TO TELL WHO YOUR SUPPORT NETWORK IS?!!?!?

As time goes on it becomes very clear that my therapist thinks I have three people in my support network and it is inappropriate to ask children for support so I have one. Stop asking anyone for anything.

BUT THEN ON OTHER WEEKS SHE CHIDES ME FOR NOT ASKING MY FRIENDS FOR MORE HELP.

Oh fuck everything in the universe.

“They are your friends because they want to be. You should trust them and rely on them.”

“Well you shouldn’t ask people who aren’t your friends to do anything for you. That never works out.”

Well, I’ve never had anyone ask me for a laminated “Krissy’s Friend” card so that I know forever more that they are in the club and safe to ask. I just have to fucking ask and deal with a lot of rejection.

I do poorly with asking people who *I* think are my friends for help when they don’t think they are my friends. I do great with asking total strangers for help. It’s… kind of funny how well it goes.

She thinks I need to work harder on having an “inner circle” that is my family and support network without looking out into the world for friends or support.

I’ve spent my life not having a family so every person I meet is potentially a surrogate family member and it is part of why I latch on so hard and so inappropriately and why I have so many problems. People don’t want the intensity of a fucked up limpet in their life.

I go back and forth between bitterly thinking that people only want to know me if I do things for them and having to quietly acknowledge to myself that it is righteously not true for most of the people who have been good friends over the years.

I have this problem. I want to be ALL anger all the time. But I actually have a good life these days. It isn’t justified or warranted or… appropriate. I’m not that angry any more. I’m still angry about some things though. I’m having trouble taking those pieces as separate units.

I want to be all anger all the time but then I think, “Well so and so did… and that person did… and other friend did…. I’m sorry I’m such a petty and ungrateful bastard.”

(This is choppy because all of that was written in one day and then I didn’t hit post and I get kind of weird about that. So the next bit may or may not fit in tone.)

Why do these designations matter so much? I’ve been fighting this fight for more than 15 years. Why do I care so much about the label? I don’t actually care about the label. I care about what behavior I can engage in without punishment or suffering and I don’t know a better way to judge people other than by the labels.

This was ironic yesterday. I was talking to Calli. She was talking about an issue with a kid. I said, “Well, if you want them to be your friend you have to forgive them for making mistakes. Every person who is alive makes mistakes. That has to be ok or you will run out of people to be friends with.”

Am I booting someone from the friendship circle because she said something in a way I didn’t like? Hypocrite much?

I don’t think I am booting her from the friendship circle. I’m understanding that I can’t expect support I won’t get. Is that the same thing? It feels very middle school and hysterical. I’m trying to figure out what is and isn’t appropriate kinds of support to ask for and with whom.

Is that hysterical? Is that hyperbole? Is that punishing people for being less than perfect?

I don’t know.

What I do know is that after 7 months of back and forth my contracting company still can’t get it together and at every step of the way they have told me that the delays are all my fault. (Even though the project manager went to Israel for a month.) I’m going to pay for the plans for the remodel and find a different company after the road trip. At this point they wouldn’t even be able to get properly started on construction before I leave so uhm… no.

More stress. Yay!

There are lots of situations in my life where I don’t know what to do. An asshole project manager… I can fire.

Back to the real topic though: it would be a lot easier if I felt angry over the current situations in my life. I feel less anger than I feel hurt. I feel betrayed. I feel like I was stupid for believing that someone cared about me more than they do. I feel like I deserve to be kicked for being stupid enough to believe that someone would care enough about me to think I don’t deserve to be kicked in the throat.

Complicated circles of “logic” in there.

I really like this person. I have for many years. I feel sad that I am not liked as much in return. And I have no control over that.

I like the Godmama too. Can’t do anything about that situation either.

I like Anna. Can’t fix that.

I feel sad.

Sometimes I think my shrink is very weird. She is … an interesting mix of Eastern practices and Western. (She lived in Thailand for 7 years and goes back for extended periods every year.) (I tell my kids “Things that seem weird are just things you haven’t grown accustomed to yet. Somebody thinks it is normal.”)

I think she is weird because she wants to use a lot of Eastern lifestyle attributes and she thinks that will lead to the same results with people who are otherwise thoroughly Western.

For example: she doesn’t think families need to talk very often. She’s very isolationist and interested in people being alone a lot. She lives alone. She specializes in severe trauma and she tells us to not have contact with our families if they are problems (good thing and all) but then she wants us to go do meditation classes to feel connected.

That just seems fucking weird to me. She doesn’t encourage human connection very much. It is hard to arrange. Hard to make safe. Hard to control. But she really wants you to feel connected to the universe.

It’s like…. it’s like as if we airlifted a huge shipment of individual game playing devices with headsets into a remote tribal village and then got excited because we got them all “connected” only now no one talks to one another anymore.

I don’t know. I’ve spent a lot of years reading about the Amish approach to technology because I find it fascinating. They aren’t anti-ALL technology. Just the stuff that will cause the community to be less united.

I can comprehend why people would make such choices.

I don’t understand how silent group meditation with strangers is going to solve my attachment problems. She claims this is because I haven’t tried it enough. People also claimed that I wouldn’t understand “runners high” until I seriously ran. A marathon and several half marathons and goodness knows how many shorter runs later…. I don’t get it.

I think this is one of those things where someone will tell me that it is the solution to my problems and then they badger me for years and then I do it and I’m disappointed and they say, “Well you didn’t try hard enough!” This sounds like Weight Watchers. This sounds like fuck you very much.

Although I’ve got to say: I was skeptical about the grief ritual. But a grief ritual where it is appropriate for me to cry, scream, and beat on the floor as much as I want to get my feelings out is different from a space where I have to sit silently and not bother anyone. How is that fucking different from most of my life?

I’m not saying I’m good at not bothering people. Just that it is what I’m supposed to be doing.

It occurred to me that my social problems would be a lot easier if I liked people less. Rather than obsessively chasing the meditation program of my dreams, maybe I should find a way to like people less. It isn’t going that well for me to fall this hard into love. It isn’t appropriate.

I’m really sad. I thought I was investing in a circle of people who might help sustain me over the years. I was wrong. I hate it when I’m that wrong.

It’s a group that will hang out together as long as it is non-effortful for the folks involved. When it gets hard they are done. This is weird to me because going has been hard since day one. I have always had to try hard to carve out space and room for these people. It has always been work.

I feel so wildly uncomfortable. I feel like people are going to hate me and betray me and…

Leaving my house is hard. Full stop. Going to events is hard. I feel afraid so much of the time. Getting over the hurdle only to find out I was stupid for doing so is hard.

I think that part of what scares me so much is that having just Noah as my designated support person isn’t fair for him at all. I have to be careful how I load Noah. He’s already doing far too much. When he’s overloaded at work I can go weeks without talking to him about anything personal because I don’t think it is fair to burden him. And he’s the only person I’m supposed to talk to.

I shoved K into the support role until it overwhelmed her. (Totally reasonable.)

Then I was trying to cobble together a semblance of feeling seen…

Now I’ll stay home. It is weird looking at my calendar until the trip. I pretty much wiped it. We are normally very busy. And I just can’t right now. When Pam gets busy I can go weeks without seeing anyone who is a friend.

We are going camping with folks. I hope. I pray. If it falls through man I’m going to be sad. One way or another I’m going camping with my kids. Even if no one wants to go with me.

I am grateful every day for my kids. I am completely sure I would be done without them.

Yesterday I was riding in the car with Shanna and I was… I don’t know what I was saying. She piped up with, “Mom, I feel like you’ve been saying a lot of negative things about me lately. I need you to say positive things too.”

What would it be like to be able to turn to people and say that you need to hear positive things about yourself and actually believe them?

(Shanna felt pretty good about herself when I was done.)

My shrink believes I have a very strong sense of self. I think that is a funny concept. I know that I have strong reactions to things but I don’t think I have a strong self. I don’t have much of a way to define me. I can list off things I “do” but I don’t really understand what I “am”. I’ve struggled with this for a long time.

If you ask me about me I’ll talk about books and dancing and travel and sex. None of those things are me. They are things that I do.

I’m pissy that Hillary Clinton identifies herself first as a wife and mother. Like the fucking rest of her life isn’t uhm equally as significant. SECRETARY OF DEFENSE COMES AFTER?! Men don’t do that shit.

I told my shrink that at least my “self” isn’t wife and mother. She said, “Yes, “at least” that isn’t your self-perception.”

You shouldn’t be defined based on who and what you are to other people either.

But then what are people if they are not their roles and actions? I don’t know. Thus why I do so much navel gazing.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between family, chosen family, friends, acquaintances, and community members.

A lot of my interpersonal difficulties happen because I am seeking surrogate family replacements and attempting to shoehorn people into such a role when they are really not agreeing. I’ve got transference issues up the wazoo.

I have noticed over the past few years a weird phenomena in the bdsm community. I’ve been hanging out there since I was 18. Some of the folks I knew there I haven’t talked to much since I started teaching–really most of the community. I rarely touch base there any more. I don’t have the baby sitting to go hang out there and it just isn’t a big priority.

Anyway, a weird phenomena, folks are really happy to see me even if the last time we saw one another… we didn’t get along that well. People don’t remember the friction and the difficulty of putting up with me if I go away for a while.

I thought all of those people were gone from my life and that they hated me and I should consider myself dead to them. I’m kind of self-centered like that. (I’ve been reading a workbook on helping teenagers deal with trauma recovery because a friend is taking a graduate school course and she shared. It’s hilarious how textbook I am, still.)

I’m not really as mad at the people in the group as I think I am. I’m mad at my parents. I’m mad at my family and I’m having transference and projecting issues all over the place. I mean… I am upset. This situation is sucking for me, but it’s a lot of things sucking at once. It’s not this thing. Not really.

See, here I go with the mollifying, please don’t hate me for having big feelings shit.

Building resilience “how to” tip: avoid seeing crises as insurmountable problems. (From the above link.)

But but…

It’s all or nothing. How I feel right now is how I have felt for all time. What the fuck dude? You mean THIS ISN’T THE END?!?!

Fuck you and all that.

Well, I’m going to run away from home for a while. I’m not being avoidant. I’m being adventurous! (Ha. It’s all in the spin.)

Then I’ll come back. And we’ll see how scorched the bridges are.

I get really fucking mad. And I rant like fuck in my blog. But I don’t really talk about it in real life (other than with Noah, that poor guy) so either my big feelings are ok or they aren’t.

I’m definitely an opt-in experience. I am not a mandatory part of life. I’m easy to avoid. I make it as easy as I possibly can.

Holy shit I’m having big feelings. So many feelings. Oh god.

Some people are comfortable doing the “come to the house and play” thing and lots of people aren’t “let’s meet at parks”. I think the “let’s meet at parks” people may fade a bit in focus for me. At least over the next three months. A family showed up yesterday (I wasn’t actually expecting them, but bonus) and played for three hours. It was great.

I was appropriate! I did not mention topics of stress within the group. I spoke vaguely about having trouble with my big feelings so I’ve been hibernating a bit more than usual. She was vaguely supportive and kind. All I wanted.

*phew* I kept my fat mouth shut.

I *have* to make the assumption that people are not on my side and that they do not want to be converted. I will not be talking about anything that has sides.

Well, I’m occasionally comfortable talking about how I have trouble fitting into some of the group rules… which I suppose means a conflict with the group owner. Only not really. I don’t ask for exceptions from her rules. I just go along with them because it is her group. I really like the group owner and have not heard a harsh word from her. I’d like to keep it that way so I try hard not to make her life difficult. She’s always been nice to me. If she has policies that aren’t my favorite, that falls squarely into my problem and not hers.

You know how March was going to have no more social? I have the self control of a nine month old presented with a breast. This week was the nice family. (It wasn’t *really* “adding” something because I took an event off and they were the only ones RSVPed to the event and they wanted to come over and play even without painting. Yay!) And a friend asked to stop and have tea next week. That’ll be less than an hour long chat. That won’t be stressful.

So I did add some social. I probably should have said no. I’m weak. If there is a chance someone might be nice to me… I don’t really have it in me to say no.

Whoa. Took a break there to do some crazy shit. I created an fake email address and facebook. I downloaded a bunch of recent pictures of my bio-family. See Noah, this is why I don’t put many pictures of the kids on the internet. I’m going to a grief ritual where I am going to cry about these people. Recent pictures will be useful.

Apparently my nephew got married. I hope he is happy.

Life is so complicated. Shanna is demanding attention now.

I spent a while today working on Plan C for the road trip. 21 days in Orlando, a week down at Vero Beach because Shanna thinks that sounds like more fun than four weeks of amusement park. Then way more time with the relatives in Texas. They wanted more time and I wasn’t sure how I would squeeze it in with the later dates in Disney World. Now, no trouble. Shanna gets the ten days she wants with family.

Only 13 weeks to go. That’s hardly anything at all. Three months. It’s getting close.

I feel like such an asshole having mixed feelings about my current life. My friends are so nice to me and I’m so ungrateful. I’m working as hard as I can on gratitude.

Had a little… interaction with Callidora the other day. I asked before we went into Ikea if she wanted me to shop while she was in kid-care or if she wanted to shop. She was adamant that I should do my shopping while she was in kid care. When she got out of kid-care she started pitching a fit because she wanted to go shopping.

Uhm, no. You said I should do my shopping alone so I did and now I’m done. No, I’m not going again for your sake. I only needed a kettle (my electric kettle bit the dust. Boo hoo) and some cheap journals. That’s practically walking out of Ikea empty handed. I DON’T need more temptation.

So Calli flipped out. She started screaming at me. I stopped walking and turned to her and said, “Does this approach ever get you what you want?”

She went still. “Uhm, no.”

“Would you like to try again?”

“Yes.” Pause for deep breath. “I would really like to go shopping.”

“Well, you already made the decision for this trip. I’m sorry you changed your mind after the fact. Would you like to make a request for the next time we come to Ikea?”

“Yes. Next time we come to Ikea, will you please sit and read while I’m in kid care because I really want to go shopping with you.”

“Yes. We can do that. No problem.”

“Ok.”

Then she skipped back to the car. She went from screaming to fine in under ten minutes. It was like fucking magic.

I love home schooling. I feel like we get so many chances to work through the bumps. Speaking of which, I need to reread the seven year old book. Before I assassinate my oldest child. She’s heading into a new stage. I need to have a kindly old woman explain this stage to me and tell me that this too shall pass. God I love these parenting books. They make everything easier.

I feel like parenting is teaching me how to let bad things just be until they pass. I was very bad at that before kids. I had to do something. Then you have kids. Then you get fucking tired. Now I can wait.

I feel incredibly guilty for having the suicidal ideation at this point. (Today was great. No ideation at all. I can’t remember any super intense ideation towards the tail end of yesterday. Is the intensity passing?) I feel like it is a horrifying injustice to the people who love me. How can I be such a selfish, mean little bastard?

It just comes naturally.

It bothered my mom that I wanted to kill myself. I didn’t care very much. It bothers me very much that I have impulses to leave Noah and Shanna and Calli. They deserve better. They deserve better than to have me flailing and shrieking about how much my life sucks. My life really doesn’t suck. I am incredibly lucky. I am freakishly lucky considering where I started.

I’m doing my best. I wish my best were better.

I cancelled the painting event with the home school group. Apparently one family is going to come over to play anyway. That was a bit surprising to me today. We won’t be doing a huge art project. It’ll be lower key.

Part of my problem comes when I start expecting things. I expected to stay home alone tomorrow. So I’m surprised and thrilled that some folks are coming over. I only had to sort of off-handedly invite then. I invited them to a group event. Then cancelled the group event. Then they said, “We would love to come over even if we aren’t painting.”

I have flashes of awareness that I’m really not hated the way I fear I am. I’m not universally beloved or centered in peoples lives. That’s probably healthy or some shit.

I am a polarizing figure. (Amusingly I just read a book called Dataclysm that talks about how polarizing people are more successful at dating. If folks are getting a 1-5 rating, I get a lot of 1s and a lot of 5s. I don’t get that many 3s.) I can understand why folks feel like they need to shove me away in order to be safe. I just…

I just have to advocate for me even though I’m a mixed bag. Or no one will. And I’ll die.

I’ll come back to gratitude. I can’t make everything work out. I feel disproportionate disappointment about things that I want and can’t make work out. But I have so much good. So many daily wonderful events.

I have a friends group so diverse and extensive that no one could truly deserve it. I’m just lucky. I’m a whiny piece of shit about people not wanting to do exactly what I want to do when I want to do it sometimes. I’m very obnoxious like that. I try to keep my whining/crying to my blog and my house. That’s as far as I’ve come with “boundaries”.

The kids say I have to stop typing now. They want to be on top of me.

I’m really glad for my life.

Hoo boy I’m feeling defensive. That does not mean that anyone is attacking me. I’m going to clarify anyway.

I do not feel entitled to have people go on trips with me. I do not feel like I deserve having people go on expensive vacations with me. I really don’t feel like anyone owes me such behavior.

I just wish I had people in my life who wanted to do things like that with me. I ask the people I know because I don’t know how to ask people I don’t know. Unfortunately… my friends don’t really like spending their vacations the same way I do.

A good friend of mine rows crew. She’s been doing it for years. She’s done a lot of travel for the sport. Very serious business in her life. She has wonderful friends from that community and she’s built a lot of her life around facilitating having crew in her life.

I don’t have a single solitary thing I like the way she likes crew.

I like Disney Land/World because I like the customer service. I’m kind of meh on the movies. I really don’t give a shit about meeting characters. I’m not impressed with “magic”. I’m fucking impressed with people being nice to me.

Disney is horrifyingly expensive. I know that. I understand that going to Disney is not something that everyone can do. I know that many people who could think they have much better ways to spend money. I can’t argue. There are better ways to spend money.

I don’t know how to meet people who like what I like. I talk to random people in line at Disney parks. I make “line friends”. But I don’t know how to find the people who want to do group trips on a regular basis. I know that such people exist because I know some of them. They go with groups all the time. I will never be part of their group.

I don’t know how to find a group of people who like me. Who also like doing what I like doing.

There aren’t many things that I feel I can invite people into doing. I don’t have a lot of community standing anywhere. I’m not that good at anything. I’m thrilled to invite people into being a beginner with me, but I’m not an expert at anything.

Mostly people who form packs around a hobby or an interest are people who are good at whatever the skill is. I know people who travel internationally for juggling festivals. They are serious about their fucking juggling.

I don’t have a hobby like that. I don’t have a thing I like doing that naturally bonds me together with people. I tend to follow along on the hobbies of people I like and hope I can be invited into the group strongly enough that it doesn’t matter that I don’t give a shit about the hobby. That never pans out.

I danced because Jenny invited me. Because A² invited me to dance and was willing to teach me how. Because I felt I had enough people who consciously wanted me to go that it was ok for me to be there.

I felt welcomed into the bdsm community when I felt like fresh meat. I understood my limited worth and value and welcome. I wore it out.

So going to Disney shit is one of the things I personally like most in life. It’s lame, it’s stupid… Disney vacations are really awesome for me. It is one of the environments in which I feel most successful. Partially that is because in Disney…. if you need help all you need to do is look around, spot a cast-member, and ask for help in a chirpy voice. They will jump right on that shit. It feels so good to me. I don’t have that experience much.

So I invite people to go with me. And I feel really guilty for asking people to go with me because it’s expensive and it’s time people don’t want to spend that way.

I feel shitty for asking because then people have to tell me no and it doesn’t make them feel good and it doesn’t make me feel good. But not asking means you have no chance of being told yes. It’s a double bind.

I don’t think any of my friends should ever feel bad about not wanting to go to Disney with me. I don’t think anyone should ever feel guilt about not wanting to hemorrhage money on an experience they don’t want. I’m not that big of an asshole.

But I feel sad. And I don’t know how to deal with being sad in a way that has zero impact on people around me. Either I can not write about things, which means I take things out on the people who are in the room with me (like Noah, Shanna, and Calli) or I write about my feelings and make people feel bad through the internet.

I feel like this running into two combined issues for me. One: my Disney relationship is complicated because I mostly am so attached to going because my mom really liked Disneyland. All of my Disney memories and feelings are weirdly tied up with my mom and abuse/nurturing mixed together. I’m trying to replace the experiences I’ve had with more positive experiences but it is slow going. The other thing is: I’ve been really sitting heavily with the stuff my dad used to say about me being an inherited witch.

He told me, frequently, that I was an inherited witch. If I failed to get people to do what I wanted I just wasn’t trying hard enough.

I feel like that message is part of what is fucking me up so hard right now. I feel like my lack of ability to get things to go how I want with the home school group is a sign that I just haven’t buckled down and worked hard enough. I don’t want it enough. I didn’t … something. I “should” have control and I am bad because I am not maintaining control.

It’s not appropriate or rational.

One of the lessons I beat my head against all the time is… I can’t make people do what I want. I really can’t. I can’t make people fulfill my needs. They are filling their needs and their needs are not about me.

This is why I’m so grateful for Noah and the kids. Their needs do involve me. I am necessary. I put myself in this boat on purpose. And even with those motherfuckers they still don’t do what I want.

Nobody listens!

(I kid. Mostly. Ok, I’m not kidding when I say that no one listens. That’s just true. But they aren’t motherfuckers. Well, Noah is a motherfucker. But that’s different.)

I feel really stupid for how upset I get about the Disney shit. Talk about entitled idiocy. Boo hoo, people don’t want to spend thousands of dollars on a vacation I will enjoy and they won’t. Boo hoo.

I am genuinely not mad at Person A, B, or C about the Disney shit. What I feel is sad. Because I like them enough that I want to have the bonding vacation time and I can’t figure out how to be someone in a position for them to have that kind of relationship with. I don’t know the right things to offer. I don’t know how to be “right”.

I just do everything wrong. The things I want are wrong. I don’t know how to invite people into the kinds of relationships they want.

I don’t know what to do differently.

The older I get the more and more I gain awareness that whereas I am enjoying pursuing “fitness” I am 100% not fucking interested in physical competition or sports. It feels like a lot of the group identity stuff has to come through being willing to engage in that kind of competitive spirit. I can’t do it. I get too emotionally invested and then I hate everyone and I don’t have any fun. I’m a total fucking asshole about competition. I can’t do it and have fun. I’m mean. I start wanting to hurt people. Bad juju.

You have to know your limits.

I don’t want to say that people don’t prioritize me. That’s a lie. Blacksheep would not have run a marathon with me nor flown to Hawaii on the spur of the moment if she didn’t prioritize me. I mean, good fucking grief.

Ok, so those two times I managed to offer something that was her speed. I need to not feel like her lack of desire to go on a cruise is reflective of the pattern of our relationship. Not related.

DSH also went to Hawaii and has made efforts over many years to include me and my family in events she pretty much doesn’t invite people to. We are clearly special to her. Not being up for a specific trip doesn’t mean that she doesn’t prioritize me. (I’m sorry I was so self-involved when I saw you the other day. Sometimes I’m really bad at looking past me.)

J isn’t doing anything wrong by preferring camping. I know this. I’m disappointed that spending time with me and the kids is not more of a draw. I’m allowed to feel disappointed and sad when things fall through. It’s not ok to shame people for making choices that are appropriate for them.

Am I allowed to feel disappointed?

I really don’t know. Maybe? I feel like there is a level where it’s ok to be disappointed and a level where you are just a self-absorbed piece of shit. Do I really get to be disappointed that I can’t talk people into spending almost $10,000 on a vacation? No. I really fucking don’t. Being upset or acting like people “should” do that for me is gross.

I’m living in a weird place of hyper-privilege. I don’t get to be upset that people have trouble coming along with me. If I do that then I’ve lost all the perspective I should have. That would be offensive.

…Ok. So I’m an entitled piece of shit. Am I allowed to be disappointed? I asked these people because I really enjoy their company. I asked people who ostensibly have the funds and time to spare, they just choose to spend their resources elsewhere. As is their right.

Am I allowed to be disappointed? I want to say, “Yes. But not mean.”

I feel guilty because I’m not being as supportive of Noah as I should be right now. He’s about to go through job transition stuff. His company is shutting down and it’s going to be a period of disruption. And I’m self-absorbed and spending my days trying to avoid crying. I need to get the fuck over myself.

I can understand why so many folks in the mental health community are pissed off at Neil Gaiman for his most recent book Little Triggers. Triggers are not “things that bother you”. Triggers are things that make you feel like you are living in another time and place experiencing horrible things again. Triggers are black boxes you get locked inside of. Sometimes you don’t even get a window to remind you that there is a “real life” out there waiting for you when you get out. Triggers are smells that cause you to be unable to see the people in the room with you because instead you see ghosts. Horrible, violent ghosts who are going to hurt you again and are never going to stop hurting you.

I’m triggered and it sucks. But at least I’ve learned more coherent language and coping skills! That’s… progress?

Also! A note on comments. I check my comments obsessively which is pretty stupid because I get very few. I could check once a week and be fine. Because I check so often that means that most of the time that I check I am not at a proper keyboard in the frame of mind to take in someone else’s words and respond coherently. Which is why so many people get one sentence monosyllabic answers. I’m acknowledging that I see it.

I read every comment dozens of times. I think about them. I try to figure out exactly what someone meant (because I understand that I’m reading through some fucked up filters and trying to make sure I read things correctly is a lot of effort) and usually… I don’t respond intelligently. Or if I do respond intelligently it fuels one of my next blog posts and I may or may not make it clear in the new blog post that I am expounding on a question from a comment. I’m tricksy like that.

Sometimes I say, “I’m sorry you had those experiences” because I have overwhelming crushing sorrow upon reading your words and I am so fucking sorry you had that happen to you. It shouldn’t have happened. That is wrong. The world shouldn’t work that way.

But I can’t type all that every time. Mostly because some days my arms burn like fire and I’m not typing more sentences than I have to at all.

I’m really looking forward to the enforced break from typing on the road trip. I hope I heal.

This is going to be a major lifestyle switch for us. I say as all four of us sit here in a room on our separate screens.

Noah wisely points out that I mostly only feel like I hate the whole world and all the people too when I need to spend some time at home. Soon I will stop feeling that way. Soon I will remember that actually… I desperately love people. I even like people, warts and all. Complications and all. Difficulties and all. If I like people even if they are difficult, maybe there are still people who will love me even if I’m difficult.

I’ll want to crawl out from under my rock again. If I stop pushing myself.

It is very annoying to me how often Noah is right. *glare* (You will remember exactly when I wrote this.)

For now, this is a very nice rock. I’m going to sit here for a while longer. It’s a good idea. I’ll stop wanting to swipe people with my claws if I stay here for a while longer.

Down kitty.

The kids are in swim class. Apparently the online system didn’t register them properly so I sent them out to the pool and the teachers were very confused. Whoops. Easy to fix. All the folks here know us now. They wanted to know how swimming outside went over the summer. They asked why we delayed coming back so long–we were missed.

It’s really weird living in this town year after year. I’m finding a place and that’s so odd. Folks expect me and tell me that they feel sad when I don’t show up. I mean, that’s happened with some hobby stuff over the years too–but this feels different.

This is about being rooted. I have a place in this community now. I’ve carved it out by myself by showing up over and over.

It’s fascinating to me how often my neighbors stop by to chat. I have friends who will not answer the door at all unless they are expecting a delivery or a visit. My neighbors drop by semi-regularly just to talk. I love it. If someone needs a tool they will come ask. I have the kind of neighbors who will ask to borrow a cup of sugar.

I love my neighborhood.

I’ve been ridiculously irritable and grouchy over the last few days. What day is it? Am I about to bleed? Well, I’m on day 21 of my cycle and my cycle is frequently right around 31 days long. 5-10 days before my period I’ve been having problems.

But this was barely before that window. This isn’t the PMDD.

I’m struggling with the kids. Struggling like whoa. I’m not doing ok with them being rough with me. It is triggering me like hell. People who will kick me in the face repeatedly don’t feel like my friend.

And my time is up.