Category Archives: Uncategorized

Therapy goals (on phone)

Leave a reply

I need to figure out how to have self dates stop feeling like punishment. That’s a consistent issue for me even though I literally require time to defrag my brain. I want all of my recharging to come from time with friends and that has not worked out and it is only going to get harder over the next couple of years.

I need to have a more consistent parenting plan in place. Currently I give until I crack then I get mean. That isn’t what anyone needs or wants.

I want to have better strategies for handling the fact that people routinely over promise and under deliver. This feels related to how I used to get apoplectic level angry about tardiness. I mellowed on that one. Can I learn to not take the casual “I will do x” that will never happen in a more calm way? I know it is related to my mom and that is part of why it is so triggering. (FUCK MAGIC MOUNTAIN.)

I want to stop liking myself only as much as my friends have expressed recently.

I want to have better ways of handling friends who don’t listen to my soft no’s without over the top screaming.

I want to stop pouring myself into friends who use me.

I want to stop trauma bonding all the damn time.

Being seen

Leave a reply

I woke up to a whole bunch of emails today. All of them make me feel a lot better. I hate how much contact with other people decides a lot of how I feel about myself. One of my neighbor said she started reading my blog. She said I don’t hold back. I tell it how it is. She says my words really get stuck in her head. I make her think. Wow, I hope that’s not a bad thing.

A different friend realized that my scheduling email had gotten stuck in their spam filter and we established contact so that we will be hanging out a little bit when I go up to the PNW.

One of my buddies on the far side of the country sent me his address because he’d love to get postcards in here for me. He wrote back to tell me about his life.

Several people have been emailing me in response to postcards. I get to hear about their joy. It feels really nice. I am glad they are finding joy. They really need it.

But most intensely was an email from Pam where she detailed all of the stuff she respects about me. She wrote about what circumstances I am in my best. It is nice to be reminded that I do have a best. I spend so much time feeling like I suck at everything. I don’t see the good parts about me very well. I see how much I fail.

There were a lot of good parts and good people to the bay. I do acknowledge that. But driving to see them was going to kill me.

Japan continues to be up-and-down for us as a family. If Eldest Child’s knee was doing better we would be having a much better time. Being housebound while she heals is really hard. For comparison, the two apartments that we are renting here in Fukuoka are about the size combined as our dining room and living room in Fremont. That’s all the space. And the space here is partitioned into four separate rooms. We are decidedly cramped.

Middle Child really needs to be taken out for long walks every day and we’re not being good about doing that. He is so much happier when he’s exercising. He is starting to really notice and that’s cool. I love seeing them develop awareness of their bodies. Eldest Child talks a lot about how eating more fruits and vegetables makes her feel better. Middle Child notices exercising increases his happiness level substantially. I didn’t notice that sort of thing as a kid and I feel so proud of them.

I continue to struggle with how much parenting requires me to put myself aside and focus on them. We are together so much that it means I don’t pay attention to me. It means I feel like I’m actively harming myself because I really don’t know or care how I’m even doing.

We didn’t do hypnosis before bed. So I had nightmares all night long. I had a few different ones last night. I could tell when one was ending and another was starting. That’s so annoying.

I miss pot. I really do need the help elevating my mood. I am miserable without it. I hate how much I blame myself for my depressed mood. “Just get over it already.”

I hate that I feel like Sarah telling me she wants to take a little break would have ended when she wanted to have access to financial resources again. I hate that I feel paranoid about money. I hate that I feel like people want me around so they can use me. It’s not always true. None of the people who have contacted me since I left want anything from me other than to spend a little bit of time with me. I know that. I mean, they may want me to help them find something on the Internet or talk to me about how to fix a problem in their life. But nobody’s asking me for money. Nobody’s asking me to come over and fix anything.

Compartmentalizing feelings about this many people is challenging.

I feel like my Discord group is becoming less useful to me. I feel like I’m spending a lot of time arguing about things that I don’t need to be arguing about. Things like, do you mothers have the right to get happy about people lecturing them about safety stuff. The non-breeder in the group had the point of you that mothers should just stop assuming that people have negative intentions and accept all advice as being kind hearted. But in my experience folks get rabid and nasty if you don’t follow their advice. And the advice from my first child to my last child took a 180. Should I have followed the safety advice in the first set of advice? Should I follow the completely opposite advice that I got the last time around? My pediatrician looked really sheepish when she was telling me the guidelines for my third kid. She said that science has found that all of the advice she gave me for my first two kids was really bad. And people wonder why I don’t instantaneously comply with new safety guidelines.

I don’t need to get into a cheerful, pleasant conversation about safety guidelines with everybody who wants to have them with me. Many of those people turn around and tell you how stupid you are if you don’t immediately comply. I just say fuck off at this point; I don’t wanna have this conversation. It would be a tremendous waste of my time if I were willing to comply with each of those conversations. She couldn’t see the parallel to street harassment. I see it quite clearly. She said that people are just trying to help. Well, maybe they are, but I’ve been doing this long enough that I understand that their advice is on a timer until it is debunked. I don’t need to spend a lot of time politely listening.

Yeah I am a bitch because I don’t carefully listen to each safety evangelical. Ok.

Why do I feel like these conversations devolve into shaming? Maybe because I’ve been doing this for over 11 years. People start lecturing you about safety the moment you know you’re pregnant and let anybody else know.

I haven’t had any other experience that parallels the level of forceful advice giving that parents receive. And I have a bunch of chronic health complaints where people like to give me stupid advice. Parenting is much more prone to prompt every idiot to tell you their opinion of how you are doing it wrong. I would get whiplash if I cared and tried to comply.

I very carefully pick who is allowed to give me advice about parenting. And unless I have come to you and specifically asked for your advice, you probably are not on the list.

In Tokyo, on phone

Leave a reply

Well, adventures are adventurous. Our flight left late from Honolulu and there was a major head wind so we missed our connection. The airline acted way more upset than us. They put us up in hotel rooms, with a free shuttle and dinner. Not terrible.

But we lost track of the diaper bag and that is hard on a few levels. Now we don’t have enough diapers for today and we lost a packet of wipes but I don’t care about that part. Two of our favorite baby books (First Sushi and Hello, Jalapeño along with Her Sweetness’ cuddle toy were in there. All of our bibs (we barely remember to use them) 1/4 of the jammies we have, a cute summer outfit, extra trash bags, butt ointment, my little first aid kit, a lightweight sweater, and pens. We still have 50+ pens so whatever.

Mostly it cuts like a knife because it was from Sarah. I am going to slowly lose the things from her (because that’s life) and it feels like extra stabbing wounds. A lot of how she showed me she loved me was by giving me stuff when she no longer needed it. My mom was a gifts = love person so Sarah’s tendency’s felt so much like trying to help me even though she didn’t have more time to give me.

So I will sit here in the dark and have a good cry and then I need to get the fuck over it. Nothing essential to life was lost. It’s an inconvenience not a tragedy. I don’t know if I will ever stop missing her like a bleeding open wound. I hope distance and time help.

Konichiwa and Arrigato are my two big words here. Doesn’t matter much how I sound them out and spell them in English. Ha. I think I am saying them close enough. And Hai. (It doesn’t sound like hi.)

Every time I leave the country I start speaking Spanish and that feels like a subconscious hint. Whyyyyy am I going to Asia and not South America? Tech conferences.

I barely slept. I should have tried the baby cot. The beds are narrow enough that my subconscious was worried about Her Sweetness flopping off so I kept an arm over her, much to her irritation. She nursed or fussed almost all of the hours I was in the bed. When I got up she finally went to sleep. Figures.

But I showered and my hair is braided and I am dressed. Yay flannel lined jeans.

In the long run I am not going to blame Sarah for the breakup. My inappropriate expectations were poison. Did she play a part? Sure. But if I had accepted her, flakiness and all I could have just appreciated a few minutes a year. Oh well. She wanted to be more than that without really having it to give. Life is full of disappointment.

It is ok to feel sad. But I need to get up and keep moving. Just keep swimming.

We want to be on the shuttle in one hour and 40 minutes. How early do I want to wake folks up?

I did buy 4 diapers at the store downstairs. Let me look up 9 kg in pounds… 19.8 lbs! Ok these diapers are fine. They are pull-ups labeled size 4; in the US we buy size 3 so I ignorantly thought these might be too big. I am excited to be wrong. Yay hotel store! I guess it works out that my kids are huge. Ha.

I opened the curtains. Oh wow the trees. We are on the edge of one of the biggest cities in the world and it feels super rural. That’s amazing. I will let the sun wake up my kids. Now I get to nurse more.

Instead of being upset about the inconvenience of losing the diaper bag I need to be grateful I had a spare diaper in another pack to handle the major poopy diaper last night before I went to the store. I am prepared for many events. That’s good.

Other great point: we showed up with enough yen to manage our needs for a couple of days. That’s brilliant. Well done, Noah, on bringing this much home last time.

Watching the sun rise here is breath taking.

I think we will all sleep hard tonight and pretty much wake up adjusted to the time zone. I am continually surprised by how adaptable my children are.

One of my friends sent me an info graphic on rejection sensitivity. It was kind of her. But way to call me out! Ha. Yeah… maybe that applies…

In Hawaii

Leave a reply

I miss pot. I am doing better at being nice to the kids but a lot worse at being nice to me. I am really struggling with advocating for myself. I am really struggling with feeling like I have to work until I break myself because I don’t matter. I wasn’t in pain for multiple days. It was really nice. Then today… I hurt again. I hurt because I forgot the stroller. And then I didn’t phrase the request to rent a stroller or wagon clearly enough so we didn’t. So I walked around for hours with close to 20% of my bodyweight on me. I wasn’t wearing the right shoes for that. And then the food really sucked and I was so angry about it. How can you fuck up a buffet that much?

I really liked the Polynesian cultural Center when I went when I was 21. Now it bothered me. The layers of whiteness inserted into cultures is a lot more obvious now. Now it feels really grotesque the way the Mormon church is trying to make money off of these people.

It is hard hearing about people’s connection to the land and feeling a lot of pride in who they are. My ancestors were shit. And I don’t belong anywhere. There isn’t anywhere that is strongly my home.

The boat

Leave a reply

I don’t care if it is a ship instead of a boat. It was an interesting cruise. The highlight was the acupuncturist. She is hands-down the most effective acupuncturist I have ever worked with. I am pretty sure she is the most effective medical provider I have ever worked with. I’m not in pain. I have a few places where I feel a little bit stiff and a little sore, but not pain. I usually have to do fantastically heavy drugs in order to feel this good. I’m really pleased with her work. And she wasn’t expensive for what she did.

I spent a lot of the trip processing stuff with Sarah. There is a lot I have not been willing to admit to myself about how bad that relationship was for a lot of years. I am really struggling with dealing with that emotionally. She used me.

I think this is going to negatively impact my ability to trust people for a long time. I have been very willfully not seeing the problems because I didn’t want to lose her.

I am feeling a little bit nervous about this perpetual travel thing. I have not been as nice to the kids as I should have been. I am struggling. For a long time I used Sarah loving me as proof that I was worthy of love and that allowed me to feel gentle and like I had some love to give. I feel like the bottom opened up beneath me. I feel unworthy of love and like I am bad. And it makes me feel mean and vicious. I don’t like me very much. That’s never good for my behavior.

I wish people wouldn’t tell me that I am inspiring. I talked to a few people on the boat about life and stuff. There was one guy in particular who was born and raised in San Francisco. He had a lot of questions about what being homeless was like. He had a lot of questions about why I hate the rich the way I do. He could not understand why I believe that billionaires are evil. After I talked long enough, he got it. It took some talking though.

I have a sore in the middle of my forehead from the acupuncture needle. It’s kind of funny, the acupuncturist constantly smacked me in the center of the forehead. She told me she was waking up my third eye so that I could accept the blessings of the universe. It’s funny that I am walking away with a scab there. It’s like my third eye really doesn’t want to open.

San Francisco is so cold. We were warm just a few days ago. And we will be warm tomorrow. I used to think that I like the cold more than the heat. But my bones ache.

No computer

Leave a reply

A couple of weeks ago when I had a late night and I was awake while everyone slept I went into the bathroom to talk to my phone. This is less convenient now that three members of my family are sleeping in the room that shares the wall with the bathroom. We do strongly prefer being close to one another. It’s a little bizarre how much we like being close to one another. I don’t remember seeing anything like that when I was a kid. I didn’t know other families who are as cuddly as we are. I’m still not sure I know people who spend as much time just touching each other as we do. It’s completely non-sexual. Which occasionally feels weird, but healthy.

Noah and I are struggling to figure out where our sex life fits in around the needs of our kids. We are definitely placing our kids needs as more important than our sex needs at this stage of our marriage. They need us. It’s interesting to me how the American custom is that kids should be away from their parents at night as soon as possible. My 10-year-old is very happy sleeping in a different room. She wants that space now. She is ready. My eight-year-old is not ready. He gets upset with being alone in a room all night. I don’t see a point in shunning him.

I have a different background than most, I guess. I was bed sharing with my mother when I was 17 because I didn’t want to be alone. Also because I’ve had back problems since my age was in the single digits and if I didn’t want to sleep with my mother the option was sleeping on the floor.

Sometimes it is surprising to me that my son rolls off his bed and sleeps on the floor on purpose. By the time I was his age my body was already broken and that hurt too much.

My daughter bought a tube top and a mid drift bearing shirt because she’s always hot. She is not seeking attention. It is hard not to be afraid for her. She doesn’t even understand the vulnerability that she has. She can’t really imagine being assaulted.

They surprise me in millions of ways.

Ack, nursing time.

Puuuuuuberty

Leave a reply

Eldest child keeps waking up in the morning really sad. She’s crying a lot and she can’t figure out why. She’s complaining about some parts of her body hurting in symbolic ways. I think puberty is hitting us like a freight train. This is going to be entertaining. I keep telling her that it’s OK that her emotions feel so big and out of control. It’s not her fault. She’s not doing something wrong. This is a normal process. It just really sucks and is hard for everyone. I hope I get to see what it is like for a kid to go through puberty without hating themselves.

On the plane, boss

Leave a reply

“I do this partly because it makes me feel better than other people.”

Damn. I envy that kind of self assurance. It’s beautiful and sparkly and intense. I think that is one of the gifts I give the people I love. I am rock solid in my belief that I can bestow specialness on other people but I can’t seem to do it for myself.

I spent the plane ride from Kuala Lumpur to Manila having a wonderful conversation with a Pakistani man. We talked about our kids and travel and religion and why people retreat into hate. He had some judgements I don’t share and I argued with him strenuously but with love. For example, he somehow had the impression that the average Mexican is violent and dangerous! Au contraire! No! Yes there are some people who happen to be Mexican who are violent but in general they are a peaceful and loving people. He said he was afraid to go there. I told him it is peaceful and friendly and he should give it a shot.

In turn he told me I should come to Pakistan where no one will think or say that I have too many children; everyone around me will know that children are a blessing and I am lucky to have them. He was astonished that anyone could think three kids are too many. He has seven and he hopes for more. I play acted horror and said “Oh I couldn’t handle the laundry.” I was glad it made him laugh because I was shooting for funny.

We talked a lot about politics and hate and religion. I said I was overwhelmed by how friendly and wonderful Malaysia was because I expected to be disliked. He stressed that Muslim people will welcome me everywhere. We talked about the fact that there are evil, violent people in every country and it is terrible when they take over as Trump has.

He listed a bunch of countries that he thinks we should visit. Then a bunch of neat grandmothers asked how long we were staying in Manila and they were bummed we were just connecting through. They asked when we are coming back and I said “invite my husband to a conference!” So they asked what he does and wrote down his contact information and said they would get on it.

Every assumption I had about Asia was wrong. I want to come back and find out more about how wrong I am.

I don’t want to go home. I am not sure I have ever felt so strongly that California is not where I want to be. I really do bring my home with me when I bring these people.

Going through the Manila airport was awful and it was 100% the fault of the US and the fucking TSA. We had to go through layers of extra security and not have easy access to food or drinks or restrooms. I mean, we could go get those things but we had to be searched over and over. It is dehumanizing and pointless and stupid.

“Humility is stupid. Stop that.” I don’t have a simple explanation for my life and I feel insecure about it. That’s why I feel awkward when someone with a job title asks me if all I do is take care of my children. I don’t perceive value in most of what I do.

My life is small and selfish and I feel kinda like a narcissist because I mostly write about myself. And my kids are asking me to write about them less. Fudge.

I garden and make art. I feel useless. Soon I will leave behind the evidence of the last ten years.

What do I do? A lot of laundry.

Just post.

Always something to learn

Leave a reply

5-7 miles was not enough training. I needed 8-10 miles. I hurt. I am going to hurt for a while.

No more group trips with shared food. When it works out it is wonderful and I feel loved and important and like I have family. Then there is reality and it not working out. I need to stop looking for any family outside of the people who share my roof.

I know I should have learned that lesson a long time ago. I am stupid about hope.

I am going to get home and reduce stuff in the permanent packing pile. I think less will still be enough. Traveling with kids is complicated.

I always wish we had a bigger frying pan at Disneyland.

And I think the kids finally believe me about overly heavy backpacks.

It’s a day! A big one!

Leave a reply

Today my Eldest Child is 10 years old. Yesterday she graduated from the swim school (she mastered everything they have to teach) and she’s got four belts left until she graduates from Tae Kwon Do’s child program. She is almost 5′ tall (probably 4’10 or 4’11″ish) and just shy of 100 lbs.

Her favorite books are the Warrior Cat series by Erin Hunter. Her favorite food is sushi (salmon and tuna sushimi). Her favorite sport is swimming, because it is low contact.

I would describe her “style” as awkward hand-me-downs. She likes soft clothing that doesn’t hurt her skin so things “matching” is uhhh not on her radar. Once in a while she is entirely delighted by wearing all black and “being goth”.

She is elated to be a tween. Her favorite thing to do is give a thumbs up and say “Hashtag teenager in training!”

She is still a little behind in math. She’s mid-way through 4th grade math at the very end of 4th grade. At this point she says she is deliberately slowing down because Middle Child is trying hard to catch up so they can just do math together. I… have feelings about this (with a two year gap I’m not that thrilled about EC wanting to just… wait… until her sibling catches up) but I’m not fighting it that hard. MC is using it as an excuse to do lots and lots of extra math so… I hope that when MC catches EC they will be used to going quickly and refuse to slow down and EC will have to catch up.

I hope.

Her reading is excellent. She can read just about anything at this point. Her spelling has progressed significantly this year. At this point you wouldn’t look at her writing and say, “Ahhh obviously dyslexic” but she still clearly is. We do training exercises to help her brain process information and it’s working really well. It’s funny to me that reading being extra hard due to the dyslexia causes her to work harder because she wants it. Other things having just a little bit of resistance… she won’t bother. But she cares about reading.

I blame it on the highly limited screen time + most of her screen time being video games that involve reading. But that’s not it. I can try to assign a reason and I’m just full of shit. She wants it because she wants it. Why? People are a mystery.

She’s such a good big sister. She’s patient and helpful and gentle. It’s not that she’s never rude or annoying or bossy or controlling… ha. She’s a lot like me. She always has A Plan and she will shove you through her plan if you don’t have a plan you volunteer faster.

She’s also a lot like Noah. She’s still seriously interested in cooking and she makes more complicated stuff by the year. At this point she is completely capable of making all the meals in a day and they will be nutritionally complete. She knows how to go through and make a shopping list and she’s good at improvising with items on hand.

I like her a lot. I continue to feel like having children has been hands-down the best thing that has happened to me in this life. My children are the gas in my engine. I have to get better. I have to work harder. I have to be a better person. I made them and I owe them this work. No one else on this planet has ever been able to motivate me like this. These have been the best ten years of my life and the next ten are going to be wonderful too.

She still has an incredibly rounded face. She has a glorious double chin and I love it so much. She’s on the thin side with a few pockets of fat to fuel growth. I didn’t lose the baby fat on my face until my first pregnancy. I sort of wonder if she lost the chub on the sides of her face would she narrow out like I did or is she going to stay solid and square like Noah? I can’t tell yet. MC has a narrow face like me. They have never pudged out. EC…. always has extra in her face and neck.

Walking five miles is no big deal. This year she finally freaking got the training wheels off her bike.

She has this thing. She doesn’t want to be a beginner at most things. She will kick and scream and fight and refuse to try at all until she can walk over and just be competent. This is complicated to manage.

I would say she still prefers drawing with pencils and markers over other art mediums but she’s trying to explore and branch out. Clay is not her thing. I suspect it relates to how fussy she is about things on her skin. The sensory sensitivity is strong with this kid.

She rarely wears dresses. She strongly prefers pants and shirts.

She dislikes onions, eggplant, Brussels Sprouts, red cabbage and mushrooms. This list is way longer than it used to be.

Her favorite singer is Kesha. I win. (Thank goodness it isn’t KENNY LOGGINS. OH MY GOODNESS.)

Her favorite color is purple, but blue is very nice too.

I think that’s enough about her right now. She’s my wonderful daughter and I’m glad to know her.

Just stay

Leave a reply

I had forgotten what it feels like to have a baby who can sleep through any disruption as long as my skin is 1″ from her face. If I move away from her, she wakes up within minutes. I do not know how other people get their babies to sleep alone. I suspect those folks have a higher tolerance for screaming than I have.

I do not let my babies scream for a minute longer than I am doing other work with my hands. Then I snatch them back up again. Most tasks I simply do one handed in this stage.

I do not speak of this because I am trying to play Mommy Wars. There are many ways to raise children and many reasons to make the choices a person makes. I make the choices I make because I am trying to reset *my* internal clock and I am trying to change the patterns that have been set in my family for generations. This is not about what someone else should or shouldn’t do. This is about learning to set aside my hypervigilance. This is about learning to calm down the panic I have lived with for decades.

Hearing my baby scream is one of the most activating sounds of my life. When I respond to it easily, naturally, instantly my body feels better. My body feels the full effects of, “You are safe now and it’s ok to take care of problems. You don’t have to ignore something. You don’t have to pretend the scary/overwhelming/bad thing isn’t happening. It’s ok to react and soothe. Nothing bad will happen.”

I don’t do all of this because it is “best for my baby” (although I do think it is good for her) I do it because I am selfish and I want this satiation and safety in my body.

It is hard dealing with how mentally bored I am. I hit the end of pregnancy and my brain was all, “OK! Disability period is over! Move around! What the fuck! Why are you sitting, motherfucker!??!?!” But I want to give this period of time to my baby so bad that I will learn to deal with almost any amount of frustration.

I just said it wasn’t for baby it was for me. Then I said I will give it to baby. I’m inconsistent. It’s complicated.

I want to have given this to baby so that I have given it to myself. I want to have had this period in our development. I want our relationship to have had this period of being instantly taken care of because I want her to have the same internal sense of “My needs matter” that my older children have.

My big kids really do have this basic safety and happiness that comes from knowing that even as they don’t get all of their wants they have never had a need go unmet. It has not happened.

I want that for my new daughter, too.

Do you know why my children are so convinced that their needs are of utmost importance? Because from the day of their births I have set myself aside to look at them. Is this the most psychologically healthy way to raise children? Oh I assume not. But it’s what I’m doing. Because it is healthier than what I experienced and giving “better than I got” is what most parents can do. We can’t be perfect. We can’t hit the ideal. But if we can give better than we got… that’s kind of shooting the moon, isn’t it?

I am glad to see…

Leave a reply

I’m glad to see that y’all are less worried about me. When my hit count comes back down I know that I have not worried you lately. That’s good.

I’m really sorry. I tell you to take breaks if it feels stressful. I’ll still be here writing when you are ready to come back. I might even be having a different, less shitty mood.

Noah says that he doesn’t really want me ever doing another medication trial because he thinks another one of those might be the end of me. Given how depressed I have been… I don’t think I can continue to allow anyone to speculate about a fourth kid. I think we will get fixed right away. Cause this much shitty depression isn’t ok for my family.

I came into this marriage saying I wanted three kids. I’m getting three. Thank you, Noah.

This fucking sucks and I can’t do this again.

I had blood drawn today to see if there has been any movement from the fucktastically high doses of vitamins (including IV) I’ve been getting. If it’s not detectable…. I’m done paying for/taking vitamins. Fuck it.

 

too much.

2 Replies

I’m doing too much. It’s as simple as that. Homeschooling is a job. I have not been giving myself the mental credit for how much work I’m doing with it. I act like it is the background noise… like needing to water the plants. It’s not really a job job the way that planting or pruning is…

Only it really is.

I am mentally and on paper tracking math, history, science, language arts, foreign languages (we all do some study), art, and a whole bunch of other constellation topics like health and nutrition, and fitness.

I don’t give myself much credit. I feel like “Every mom thinks about their kids all the time. I’m not special.” But most parents are not forking homeschooling. I act like I should be able to handle my kids with the same amount of energy as my friends who have full time jobs and who put their kids in school/after school care.

But that’s not what I’m doing and I really need to stop feeling so ashamed that I don’t handle everything like the full time out of the home parents.

It’s ok for me to feel utterly exhausted by the amount of work I do for my children. I’m teaching and parenting without many breaks. I get some breaks, it’s true… but not a lot. I get approximately a teachers prep period amount of break per day. And my job is from when I wake up until I pass out.

I’m tired.

I miss the babysitter. Sigh. She’s really not replaceable. She was so perfect for our family. Although I will admit that I’m feeling pretty grateful to not be paying for her right now. She got pretty expensive towards the end.

She left in May. So I have been… pretty intensely with the kids since then. Except for Alaska.

Last night EC told me that when I was in Alaska “It felt like… it felt like something missing.” I missed you too, baby.

We talked to EC about enmeshment and what it means.  We mentioned that we are unusually enmeshed for folks of our demographic. EC beamed and said she likes it that way. I like it that way too. We are trying to figure out having room for individuality with our enmeshment. It’s a process.

***************************** (Above written in the morning before the day got busy. Resuming at the very end of the day after therapy.)

Today was a good somatic therapy session. We did energy work, of course, but we did a lot of talking about boundaries and connection.

I think I have been in therapy for pretty much my whole life because this is one of the only ways I know for sure that it’s ok for me to have connection without sex. Outside of the rock solid boundaries of therapy… that’s always been harder for me. It’s not that I don’t connect with people without sex (like, I’ve never banged Jenny and that’s 24 years and counting) ever ever ever. But it’s a lot harder for me and it’s so hard for me to trust it.

We spent a while talking about my frantic questioning of people to try and understand the “rules” of different relationships and how I often feel punished for being bad because people don’t appreciate that I need things spelled out in such fantastic detail because I genuinely can’t guess what people want very well. My shrink went on to a long digression about how that’s very common for Aspie/Autistic people. We need things spelled out so much that we anger people and it’s very common for Autistic people to be abused for being so annoying.

Oh shit. Now I’m going to sound like that dude I divorced for having inappropriate boundaries with my children. “I’m so peeeerrrrrrrrrrrrsecuted because of my Autism.”

Shit I hope not.

The thing is, I recognize that I’m a super high intensity needy as fuck person. I irritate people. That doesn’t make me a victim. It means that I irritate people like a sheet of fine grain sand paper. Whether it is my fault or not… it’s pretty natural that people react to being rubbed with sand paper.

Am I “bad” because I don’t understand the “rulez” other people live by?

Well Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ WHICH RULES am I supposed to follow? Do you know how many fucking different sets of rules I’ve been exposed to?!?!?!?!?!?

Users Guide 3.1

3 Replies

Good golly I’m learning lessons fast. This is an update. Unless you are planning to fuck me soon, you can mostly skip.

Many… many years ago I copied the idea of a users guide from my friend because I know that I am difficult to figure out when it comes to sex sometimes. I’m picky and fussy and just generally demanding. Therefore it seems like a lovely idea to have some sort of cheat sheet about how to handle me in general. Some of these things I have figured out on my own, some of these things I have had pointed out to me by friends and/or lovers/husband, some of these things are constantly in flux and will no longer be true in just a few months. Of course this is a living document and therefore subject to change and revision without notice. Just because something is in here doesn’t mean you should assume that for now and all times this is the only thing I like/want/don’t like etc. After the roller coaster that was pregnancy and giving birth, I promise you things change in my body over time.

Index:
A. Before sex (including courtship/getting to know one another)
1. Just meeting and assumptions.
2. Appearance stuff and attraction.
a. Hair
b. Weight/height
c. Gender
d. Cocks
e. Race
f. Oral Hygiene
3. STIs/safer sex
4. Foreplay
a. Breasts
b. Ways to turn me on
B. During sex (including bdsm play)
1. Oral sex
2. Positions
3. Vibrators
4. Bondage
5. Group Sex
6. D/s
7. Pain
8. Care of the delicate bits
C. After sex. (including relationship level interactions)

A. Before Sex
1. Just getting acquainted
a. General

Never assume that you are going to get to go to bed with me. Yes, I go to bed with quite a few people—that doesn’t mean I will choose you. I expect and require that people treat me as an equal, and more importantly as an intelligent, thoughtful, responsible human being until otherwise negotiated. Please don’t act like I ought to be honored to teach you whatever it is you want to know about play/sex/whatever. I have taught classes and initiated virgins and newbies alike. I’ve put in my time to the community. I can coast on doing what pleases me and only what pleases me.

b. Specifics in a Having-Kids-Lifestyle

I don’t have a lot of free time. What free time I have is mostly spent alone because I have a very high intensity life that requires me to be well regulated emotionally despite stress. I can’t focus on getting to know new adults in a really concentrated way. I’m not flakey, but I don’t have much availability. And to be honest I’m a little flakey. My priority at this stage of my life is being nice to my kids. I have to keep the rest of my life quiet enough for that to happen or I have to drop other stuff. That is the deal for another ten years.

c. Kissing

This gets a whole section. Way before sex because it often happens long before sex happens. I like to kiss. Kissing is a big thing for me. I think kissing is one of the most intimate activities and if I am going to bed or playing with you I am seeking intimacy. Intimacy doesn’t mean you’ll be my one twue love or that we need to settle down… It just means I want to know you. If I want intimate contact with you, I probably want kissing to be part of that. (See below section on STI’s.)

2. Appearance stuff and attraction
a. Hair
Once upon a time I said that I prefer clean shaven men, but that has radically changed during my adulthood. My opinion now varies tremendously based on personal attitude, grooming standards, and just plain what suits each face. As for the hair on other peoples heads: I don’t care anymore. I barely notice. I’m interested in your mind. I like body hair on anyone. Pubic hair doesn’t affect me one way or the other. I sometimes shave large portions of my body. I sometimes skip shaving for over a year at a go. You have to be totally ok with either or go away.

b. Weight/height

My weight goes up and down in a 40 pound range like a yo yo. Almost annually. You can’t be attracted to me for a specific look of my body. It will be different next month. I don’t know what the fork is up with it. Yes, I talk to doctors about it. I like people with bodies. I like fat bodies. I am…more appreciative of slender bodies than I used to be, but I still prefer some heft. I used to be a bit hung up on height and now I don’t care. I like people.

c. Gender

I am a cis-gender woman. If you haven’t picked up on the fact that I am queer then you haven’t been reading closely. I have had strong attractions to people at every point on the gender spectrum. I am completely comfortable having sexual contact that begins with, “What words do you want me to use for your body parts and how do you want me to touch you?” because I can’t guess. Everyone is unique.

d. Cocks (What the hell—since I am listing my preferences…)

Everyone should remember that the vagina is all about potential space. Yes, it can technically stretch, but in a normal resting spot it isn’t particularly large. My body doesn’t stretch terribly well or willingly (even after giving birth to two children) so I am not a fan of overly large cocks. Period. If it is going to cause my jaw to be sore within five minutes of oral sex I will probably experience a lot of pain during sex and that isn’t good for me. I am so not a size queen. I do not have lower limits on the size of cocks I can figure out how to enjoy. Not all sex is about penis in vagina sex. But I do have upper limits. Ow. No thank you. It’s not personal.

e. Race/marginalization

This is complicated. I am aware that I am most comfortable treating heterosexual white men like pieces of meat. If I fuck them and don’t call later… I don’t feel real bad. I have major hang ups around using people of color and women and gender ambiguous people in the same way. I feel tremendous shame and guilt around hurting already marginalized people. Which is to say… I really like having sex with people who are not het white men. I have a hard time approaching them. I don’t want to hurt them and I am less clear on the boundaries. I err on the side of not being a using asshole. But if you are interested… let me know.

f. Oral Hygiene

YES. Bad breath/teeth that look unclean is really really really repellent to me. I generally won’t kiss someone with bad breath. I will elect not to even if you are a nice person. Just no. I smoke pot and that has impact on my mouth. I do not mind kissing other people who smoke pot. I still really am not fond of kissing tobacco smokers. I don’t like the taste at all.

3. STIs/safer sex

The first thing that ought to happen in foreplay is a discussion of STI’s and safer sex expectations. My habit is getting tested every six months when I’m promiscuous. I am waiting on my current test results. I tested on 3/29/16 and didn’t come back with a positive. They didn’t test for herpes, but I already know about that.)

I have HPV. I have tested clean since 2003, but technically you always kinda have it? I am very very very upfront with this information. I am happy to provide you with access to information. You are an adult and you make your own decisions based on how much of a risk you are willing to take. Given the prevalence of HPV I think it isn’t that big of a deal, but I don’t have to live in your body for the next umpteen years and you do. I never want someone to regret having been intimate with me and I will defer to the stricter preference for barriers.

I also test positive for HSV1, commonly known as oral herpes. I have had a few cold sores as an adult but they are rare and I feel them coming. If you think that HSV1 is a deal breaker for you for oral sex or for kissing, we are probably better sticking to being friends.

I am a big proponent of the idea that we are having “safer” sex. The only safe sex is with your hand. There is risk involved in the play I do and I acknowledge it and try to minimize it. I do not have a desire to play with people who are in denial about said risk.

Gloves… ok honestly we probably won’t be 100% sticklers about gloves but we do use them in party environments because they are safer and more hygienic in a group atmosphere.

Condoms are not negotiable for vaginal or anal penetration. I renegotiated them for oral. I will decide on a case by case basis.

4. Foreplay

a. Breasts

This is really funny… but I feel like I should start tracking this on my period application on my phone. How much breast stimulation, and what kind, varies dramatically through the month. There are days when I will claw your eyes out if you brush near them too hard. There are days when I really want gentle stimulation and lots of it. There are days I want to be hurt very badly. Sigh. I married the most wonderful, flexible guy.

I love playing with breasts/tits. I like on the rough end but I’m not married to it.

b. Ways to turn me on

First and foremost: talk to me. Tell me how hot you think I am. Tell me what you want to do to me. Tell me what you are doing while you are doing it. Just hearing you narrate how wet I am when you slide your finger into my cunt will increase the quantity of wetness. Read me porn. Have me read you porn. My brain is the most potent sexual organ in my body. Pay attention to it. Do you know why I like having sex with my friends? Because the ones I have sex with are the ones who have spent years buttering me up talking about what they like from sex.

Stroke my legs, particularly behind my knees. It is very easy to turn me on when I am lying on my stomach and my legs and back are stroked lightly. This is by far the most sensuous activity for me. I love having my neck and head stroked gently. It’s not a massage–it’s… waking up sensual contact.

Biting is hard. I like it but I get hurt really badly too easily in a way that causes me to go to dark mental places and I dissociate. It isn’t off the table… but it’s complicated. Be really careful. Watch me. Make sure I am still “there”.

Tell me how to please you. I love having someone tell me how to get them off—it will usually be enough to get me off. An awful lot of what I get out of sex with people other than my husband is that thrilling feeling of, “Hey here is someone I haven’t practiced on for years and I’m still talented enough to get them off. Yay!” So lots of instructions about what you want and how you want will… turn me into butter. (Once you have permission to talk to me like this. If I indicate a boundary you had better back off like you hit an electric fence or you’ll get the full taser.[not literally])

B. During Sex

1. Oral sex

I like giving blowjobs. A lot a lot a lot. I like them the most if there is some degree of being “forced” involved. I’m not talking about serious forcing, but pushing my head down on your cock is going to get me all wet. Telling me to suck your cock will get me all wet. Asking me politely if I would mind will probably cause me to lose interest in giving you oral sex. If I do it at all it will be a lackluster job and I dislike performing poorly. OH! These suggestions apply to people I have already had sex with. If I have not had sex with you, you bloody well need to ask. For those of you who have already had sex with me, guiding my head down slowly is giving me plenty of time to say, “Not today.”

For the record: if I have given you a blow job I consider you one of my sexual partners. None of this “oral sex doesn’t count as sex” crap. Don’t bloody ever tell me that we haven’t really had sex. You have fucked my body and probably (hopefully) come inside me. We have had sex. Sure, it was a different hole. Whoopie. It was still penetrative sex. Don’t worry about asking me if it is ok to come in my mouth. If I like you enough to let your dick in my mouth, I’m happy to have you come. I do prefer being told when it is happening so I can synch my breathing, but it is just a preference.

I do have a strong gag reflex and if I seriously fight to bring my head back after you have forcibly shoved my head down on your cock… let me go. I may be on my way to run to the bathroom and vomit. It has happened. It will probably happen again. I’m ok with this. Please don’t let the possibility of this happening prevent you from fucking my mouth with enthusiasm. It is great for me. This being said, I’m not terribly thrilled with having a relationship centered solely around me giving blow jobs. I will eventually feel kind of used (after a year of being in that kind of relationship I really didn’t like him anymore and I didn’t like me much more).
I haven’t played with someone who had a cunt in many years. Sigh. I remember them fondly.

Also: I really like getting oral sex while wearing a strap on. That is fucktastically hot.

2. Positions

I am old, cranky, and in chronic pain. There are times when I am up for acrobatic porn-star sex. There are days when it is, “I am here. What more do you want from me?” I can be fun enough whatever my range for the day. But you will have to respect where my body is on a given day. Your fantasies take a back seat to my physical limitations.

3. Vibrators

In this post kid era, there are times when penetrative sex alone is not enough to get me off. Mr Hitachi, however, never lets me down. I think the point of me having sex is so that I can get off. I know that other people have different beliefs about the purpose of sex, that is fine for them. I’m here to get off. If I’m not going to get off with you alone I will not hesitate to whip out my friend. Don’t worry. You will like the feeling of me orgasming enough to get over your ego at not being able to do it alone. It isn’t you. My body is kinda annoying at this stage. (For the record, when I want to be fucked while using a vibrator I almost always want to be face down.)

4. Bondage

Complicated. Once upon a time I spent a lot of time tying people up and being tied up. It isn’t really Noah’s thing so I don’t really do it any more. But I miss it fiercely. I really like being tied up. I really like being suspended. I really really like being suspended and fucked. Oh the good old days.

5. Group sex
Why yes, I would love to engage in group sex. Thank you for asking. I will make everyone talk more than they feel comfortable talking about wants, limits, permission, consent, etc. Because I need to hear all of those things said out loud. But then hell yeah.

6. D/s

What a difference ten years makes. Wow. Reading my old section here…. delete.

I am in a marriage that has power differential within tightly negotiated boundaries as we model a highly egalitarian marriage in front of our children. It will change after they grow up and we don’t have to look like such nice people any more. We have plans. Ahem.

I uhm, appear to have distinct interest in exactly one submissive man. How the hell did that happen? So I’m really not hunting for more in that department. I think my dance card will be full.

If I am playing with you on a more one-off basis it is very ok to negotiate for a D/s dynamic and tell me what kinds of things you fantasize about. I can be almost anyone for an hour.

7. Pain

Post-children my body has changed dramatically and I honestly don’t know what I like. Well, I know I still like single tails and canes. Those are my perennial favorites. My husband doesn’t know how to use a single tail. Do you? Choking is completely off the table. I have pre-stroke symptoms that are very concerning and I have young children. We cannot risk my life.

I thought the mallet was absolutely awesome. Single tails are harder than they used to be. Sting is really hard for me. I like thud.

8. Care of the delicate bits

Due to some of the stuff that happened when I was very young I have a whole lot of scar tissue throughout my vagina/labia/anus. Scar tissue is like a dotted line in the skin that means, “Please tear here.” Despite my very strong desire for rough, and rougher, and rougher sex… I can’t actually handle all that I would like to handle. (Damnit.) Don’t pull roughly on my labia. Don’t pull my ass cheeks apart with any speed or force. Just DON’T. I will tear open and it will hurt and hurt and that will mostly curtail sex for hours if not days. It sucks ass and so I try to avoid massive tearing. Gentle handling of the bits is important.

That is the paragraph from the pre-kids era. The only update I will give to that is: having children did do some work to break up the internal scar tissue inside my vagina. (Hurray!) But I am still delicate in a way you would not expect from someone with my overall temperament. I’m a fragile toy. Treat me with care.

Because we will be having sex with condoms please to be having lube very close by. It is my friend.

C. After Sex/play

Immediately after sex/play I will want to breathe and hug for a few minutes. I will probably want to spend an extended period of time talking and making out. I will want a check in email afterwards for any bdsm play–I do not need it for vanilla sex. I like being friends with people but that has to happen around my schedule. It is highly limited. I’m not rejecting you. I’m dealing with the fact that right now my life is about figuring out how to be healthy around my kids and that is much harder for me than you might think. It takes a lot of time and energy. It is very important to me that I do this right. It will remain my focus for quite some time.

Maybe I’ll try this.

Leave a reply

I’m spending too much time responding to Twitter. Did you know there is currently an armed takeover of a federal building in Oregon? It’s a bunch of white dudes so no one with authority is acting like it’s a big deal.

I need to turn off Twitter. But I like having some place to dump my racing thoughts. This might be disjointed even for me.

Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t be having conversations with people at all. I’m not educated enough. I can’t cite statistics off the top of my head so my opinion is worthless. Some topics aren’t about statistics. Doesn’t seem to matter.

The thing is, if you spend time on the internet you are going to find people who want to argue about 10,000 different topics. I really sure as fuck don’t have enough time to argue with them all.

I can’t sit down and discuss, rationally, why feminism is not fascism. Fascism involves believing in the supremacy of a state, preferably involving a dictator, it is usually militaristic.

Ok, there are some violent feminists I think it is kind of a stretch to say that feminists are militaristic as a whole.

But I need to stay off Twitter so I’m not arguing with these people. I need to stay off G+ so that when a guy misgenders a woman and I correct him he doesn’t spend a while telling me in great detail how I’m a bigger asshole than any man.

I’m an asshole. My opinions and knowledge are utterly worthless. I’ll stay home.

I’m getting past the flood of anxiety and hitting depression. I walked to the farmers market this morning. I have otherwise been in bed.

I feel sick. My stomach hurts. I sure as fuck need to stop typing and I think there is literally no possibility of that till I get back on meds. I can’t fucking manage my feelings with no no no no outlet.

What the fuck am I even doing? I don’t know.

I have an ice pack on each upper arm, my neck, and I’m sitting on a heating pad. I’ve been stretching slowly all day.

God I hurt.

I feel guilty that I want to be on Twitter. I do it so I don’t feel so lonely. It’s stupid that I feel lonely given that the only three people in the world who would move mountains for me are in this house. I mean, I have great friends. They show up for me. But I have three family members who absolutely love me to distraction. They are it. They are here.

Why do I feel lonely? Why do I feel like I should be reaching out for connection?

I suspect that part of the reason this feels more comfortable is because I got into chat rooms at 15. I bought my first computer at 18. I’ve been looking for connection online, while alone in a room, ever since. 16 years of this being my primary way of reaching out. I mostly curated who I dated this way. If you can’t type like a motherfucker we aren’t compatible.

Not cause there is something wrong with you. Because this is my primary language.

I know people who have made marriages based on not truly sharing a common language. I know a few couples where they genuinely didn’t have a language they could converse in. How in the hell did they manage that?! If one person learns a second language then meets a spouse who primarily speaks that second language it is still not as hard as just…. not speaking the same language. And it happens.

Whoa.

I feel like I have too many tracks going on in my brain. I want to talk about racism, sexism, tech-meritocracy hypocrisy, rape, incest…

All of these topics are things you can’t seriously discuss until you have decades of research under your belt. There is just too much to know.

So I should shut up. Cause I sound as stupid as I am.

But this is how we only end up with white men running most conversations. They are the only ones who don’t think they have to be fully educated before they start lecturing.

I’m going to be wrong about things. I’m going to be uneducated about topics. It is literally impossible to know everything about every topic you want to discuss unless you limit yourself in a way I’ve never heard from another human being.

I worry a lot about misrepresenting things. I worry a lot about being wrong. Even though I know that being wrong is how you grow. I know that mistakes are part of learning. But I’m … so stupid.

I am completely and totally convinced that if I had to get through life sober I wouldn’t make it to 40. Being in my brain today is a fucking nightmare.

It is taking every ounce of self control I have to not start slicing myself to ribbons. Because I’m so stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.

I don’t know how to make this stop.

Sit still, Krissy. Today will end. Not every day is this hard. But today is hard. Yesterday was hard. The day before was hard.

I’m trying to decide if I want to take an over the counter sleep aid tonight. I’m not sure. Melatonin is probably a good idea. I should take alllllll the vitamins and shit today. I should pretend that taking 5-htp will help me feel less like I should die.

I’m hearing “die die die die die”.

I’m watching The West Wing. I’m trying to focus on something, anything outside of myself. I’m failing.

My head and neck hurt so bad I want to put them through a window. Just for the distraction.

I watched my brother do that. I helped pull glass out of his bloody wounds before the ambulance arrived. After that they made him wear a helmet for years. No one could stop him from punching holes in the wall.

Why am I so violent? Because I was taught to be. I was shown how to be.

I was 9? 10? when that was happening.

Had to be 10. We were in Whittier. He was out of the hospital. He was in the hospital until late 1990 I think.

God I can’t remember the exact order and I hate myself for that. I could reread my book. The funny part is, I’m not 100% sure I got the order correct in the book. I did my best. I don’t know for sure if I put things in the right order.

I know Tommy was in Rancho Los Amigos as of December 1989. When he left Rancho he was transferred to a different hospital then he was sent home. He was home for 18 months before he was sent to a residential care facility in Washington. So was I 9 or 10?

I can’t remember. For some reason, today I really wish I could remember what happened in Whittier with more clarity. So I could be more sure in my own mind that I’m not making things up.

I don’t think I am. I think I just can’t remember exactly what order things happened in.

I have these weird flashes of memory. I remember playing in the back yard of that house. I really liked it. I was safe. There were high fences and a shed and grass that was as tall as me. That grass was… weirdly formative for me. I don’t know why it made such a strong impression. I spent months hiding in that grass. I could see people coming from far away because they made the walls of my hiding place move. I had several different bolt holes so I could get away from Tommy when he came out to hurt me.

That was his primary hobby. He thought it was hilarious.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about this right now. Because I can’t force myself to stop. Because I’m unmedicated and my brain gets to do what it wants instead of what I want.

I don’t know why I need to sit in my room and watch tv and cry and talk to myself about things that hurt a long time ago instead of being with people who are nice to me. I don’t know why.

Because I can’t be nice enough to deserve being in the room with them. Because I will be rude. I will sound disrespectful and snotty. I will sound angry and aggressive.

So I need to stay in my room. So I don’t hurt anyone. Because sometimes it feels like that is all I do. I move around hurting one person after another.

People are right. Monsters like me should be put down for the good of the herd.

I don’t do anything that makes the world better. I don’t matter. I am a waste of fucking oxygen.

Recently a dear friend who loves me very much and who loves my children very much expressed concern that it isn’t fair that I make the kids play in the back yard when it is cold. I am going to cause them damage the same way I am damaged.

If playing in the back yard were enough to cause PTSD… I’d be dead. I wouldn’t have gone through everything. If that was enough to cause someone to feel like their life was at risk… we’d be a different species.

I am damaged because for the first twenty years of my life I had no stability, love, or reasonable support. My kids sometimes have to play in the back yard.

Not fair to say I had no love. I didn’t have consistent relationships. I had days of people loving me. No lying. I had friends. It is such a lie that I had no love.

I don’t know if my mommy loved me or not. Probably? But she couldn’t show it. My sister loved me. But she mixes her love with toxin and poison. I don’t think my eldest brother loved me. I think he sincerely wishes I had never been born. Tommy loved me in between hitting me and trying to rape me. I don’t think my father loved anything. Not really.

What you experience in the first six years of your life imprints your brain and personality for your whole life. I was homeless. I stole food. I was raped. I passed out blowjobs to neighborhood kids because that is what I was supposed to do.

I was stupid, worthless, a burden. That is what I learned.

The kids want to go out to dinner. I should probably pretend I am up for that. I’m not sure if I’ll eat. I may sit there and cry. I guess we’ll find out.

The KOA is A-Ok with us.

5 Replies

You know what? I hear people sneer about the KOA system because it isn’t “real” camping. It isn’t primitive camping. Right this minute I am totally thrilled with that. Instead of being I’m a bad ass butch camper I am able to keep milk cold. I can live with access to a plug. And wifi, see here I type at you. While the kids play at the playground. I like this set up.

Now I get to tell you about the Yellowstone trip that wasn’t. It’s not actually that exciting of a story.

The last two nights of being in a set location has been great. I am knocking myself out so I can catch up on sleep. It’s a good thing. Sleep gets into really vicious cycles for me. Either I can’t sleep and I can’t catch up on sleep and I can’t get out of the insomnia cycle… or I’m doing ok and even I can’t understand why I often have sleeping problems. Two nights in a row of sleeping well plus good solid naps and I feel a lot better. Fewer racing thoughts. Less feeling crazy and unsafe.

I’m enjoying Wyoming. The weather is hot. The folks are nice enough. We aren’t being very social this time. That’s weird for me–traveling without talking to new people is outside my MO. Usually I’m all about making new friends. This time I’m just not. I’m too tired. I don’t have the energy to try and be social. I don’t care.

I’m feeling cranky and sad because the kids really want to write post cards to the folks in the home school group with whom I’m having problems. The kids are asking, “Why can’t I write to ____?”

I don’t want to talk about it. But we can’t. Their parents decided that things had to come to a head right now and the result is we can’t send post cards to the kids. I’m sorry.

We are trying to write post cards to other folks. It’s not like we are running short on people we know. But the kids are focusing on the three families I am not going to write to. Awkward.

I’m tired.