I have a habit of going quiet when things are going well. I think this has two parts. One stems from growing up and having the calm/storm times seem pretty random. When something was amiss, we tried to survive or solve it. This could include subtle storms when we were supposed to use our psychology skills to do whatever new thing M learned about that week, or the outright ones where you try to minimize physical damage, but without *looking* like you were trying to, because that would only anger the Tempest and make it worse.
When things were happy, peaceful, and going well the inclination was to not talk about it, look at it and try not to spook it for as long as possible.

I also hear some people bitching about other people sending out the holiday update letters or being too braggy and "oh look how great my life is" and so I think I was even more worried about being one of "those people."

But really, fuck that noise. I had to read the whole of "Atlas Shrugged" (save most of the radio broadcast, I mean really, I'd already read 800 pages, I got the point) to stop being sorry I was good at math. I've worked a hell of a lot harder to create the life I have now and I'm not sorry about it at all. I've spent years doing really awkward, painful, risky things that meant carving into my soul, asking questions I'd rather have left alone and having some really dreaded conversations with people all so that I could find my center. I've had to take more deep breaths and jump, screw my courage to more sticking places and deliberately make myself uncomfortable more times than I care to think about. By the gods, I've *earned* this happiness.

And I really am. It's not all sunshine and roses, I still fuck up and there is always more work to do. I'm not saying that everything is perfect in a way that means I'm all done now, but I've got a good system and a good set of people in my life who are interested in doing better. And that's really what it's all about.

My relationship with my husband is going swimmingly. We have a few things to do but I finally feel like we're on solid ground and have the tool kit built up to handle whatever comes next with grace and humor. He's started getting a little goofy again and seems more comfortable around others and that really warms my heart.
My other man is exactly perfect for me, the best con swag ever. We seem to be on the same page about so much, especially the pages about finding stuff out and wanting the other one to be better. I've spent so much of the last few months shoring others up that I'd forgotten what the return was. I've had to relearn how to trust him not just with the ability to handle what comes up, but with the possibility that he'll even see it coming and manage it before it becomes a thing. It's been interesting to learn to relate to someone who speaks my language again in a close family type role. He also seems to have a way about him that bypasses some of my defense grid. This has been useful in that much of that grid is not needed now that I've stopped opening myself up to people who were attacking me. Every time I take a breath and get ready to open a door to him, I turn around and realize he's already on the other side. This has helped me to see just how many doors I've been keeping shut that I really don't need to. It's good to change the air now and again.

I'm happy, and even when there is work it's that satisfying wear-you-out-but-it-feels-good sort instead of the kind that sucks your soul and feels like a ball of molasses you have to push up a mountain.

Things are good. I hope they get better, for everyone involved, especially for those making interesting decisions. But whatever they decide, I've carved my happy home out of the rubble of what came before and I'm not letting go. And I'm not sorry.

I have a confession....

I really enjoy elementary school music presentations. Like, a lot. Not so much I'm going to start crashing random recitals, but if a friend's kid is singing a song and I have to sit through an hour of tortured Beethoven, I dig it.

First, to anyone who thinks the sound is awful, it kind of is. But I have friends who make power noise, and the percussion is *supposed* to sound like a grinder on a garbage can. That's the finished product. These kids are going to get better.

They're also awesome to watch. It's like a slice of the cosmos behind that dim proscenium in the cafeteria. All these different levels of proficiency and attention, harmonics where there really shouldn't be any, the notes of chaos that somehow manage to rough in the theme of each piece, sharps and flats kind of canceling each other out. Hell, sometimes the moose calls of the horn section are even in the same key.

They try and they're proud of what they do. And then when they pause for a moment, say to let the string section do their bit, Entropy! They start out still, and then start to jiggle and vibrate as the order of the conductor that contained them looses its grasp. The jiggling becomes shifting becomes giggling becomes the back row bonking each other with drumsticks and dropping chairs.

The parents are there for torture in the name of love, proud of their offspring and the future. The kids have fun, I'm grinning like an idiot the entire time because it's just magical, thinking of the South Park episode where Cartman yells at Kenny for screwing up the song, when the whole band sounds like they're trying to strangle a violin *with* a cat in heat.
Babies make themselves known, little siblings try to join their big brother/sister on stage, parents are vying for the camera shot. It's a big, fat slice of "look what I made!"

Love. It.