Recovering Codependent

It’s not like I’ve been Dad all my life.

I mean, maybe, in some regards, I have been. I was the oldest of two boys, and the band-aid and bridge between two parents who let a relationship linger far, far too long. Still, I’m not a parent. Care-giver, people pleaser, put-them-first kind of guy, yes. That’s me. I still have no actual children of my own.

But I do have David.

He’s sixteen years younger than I am, and in many ways, is in my heart the way most people who are important to me are. I put him first sometimes, I do what I can to make his life better, giving what I can whenever I can if it benefits him or lifts him up in any way.

Still, this relationship is unlike my others in my past. There’s a certain level of boundary line between him and I that keeps things vibrant, balanced, and moving in a healthy direction. I have learned to reserve more of me, more of my energy and time, and simply let David figure shit out on his own, or come to me on his own accord when things are fuzzy or he needs to get something off his chest.

I don’t find myself jumping through hoops to please him. I don’t put all of my self aside the moment he walks in the door from his day at work. In fact, when I do start doing that, I can feel my whole personhood changing in a way that is now uncomfortable and antithetical to how I live my life these days. I know what resentment feels like. I know what being taken advantage of feels like. I know how to stop those feelings dead in their tracks, pivot, and let go, more than I ever have.

For the first time in my adult life, I don’t feel like I need love like this in my life to validate who I am and how I exist.

David, every day, gets to make a choice to be with me, or not. Every single day, he’s given latitude, without pressure from me or my life, to live his life as he sees fits. By giving him this space to breathe, to be his own person, and to make and enact changes for himself that work for him, he is able to grow and change on his own accord. This, as it turns out, is a really new way for me to show how I love someone.

I’ve learned this the hard way. I’ve spent many, many years trying to contort myself into the lives of the men I’ve fallen in love with so that I could become irreplaceable to them. This is how, for me, I earned their love and devotion. The more I was needed, the more I was loved. If I ever felt a guy slipping away from me, it was my fault for failing to see or change enough to meet their needs. It was always my fault, and I would spend so much time and energy (and deep-dive into alcohol in the process) beating myself up over my “failures.”

I can’t say that it’s always easy to remember these lines and spaces between us. Usually, though, if I take a solid deep breath and notice the familiar feelings of “being taken advantage of” or “being taken for granted” – hallmarks of the start of resentment, that moment I decide to change for someone else – I can, and do, catch myself. The more I practice pausing and reflecting in the moment, the easier it becomes.


Boundaries are healthy. Knowing the limits of your personhood and setting lines that cannot be crossed is important. Defining yourself for your SELF, and not through the views and refraction of others and their perceptions of you, is one of the most life-affirming actions you can take.

Take it from this Dad. Your Sons will appreciate it when you give them space to grow on their own.

The First Month

I quit my transit job as of June 1, 2023. It’s been just over twenty days since then, and I’ve been able to reflect a bit on a few things.

Most notably, my overall mental health has vastly improved. I’m calmer, sleeping better than ever, and feel a sense of peace unlike any I’ve ever felt in my life. Sure, I’m still worried about money and making ends meet, but not nearly as consumed by those pressures on to top of having to negotiate the daily grind that the transit job presented to me every damn day.

I get to wake up when I’m rested, sleep when I’m tired, set my own schedule, talk when I want to, be quiet when I don’t, and all the rest. I’m my own boss, my own leader, my own determining factor in my future. I have control over my life in a way I’ve never known before. I’m able to set boundaries and walls where I need them, and move them and adjust them on the fly. I’m not negotiating a whole pile of bullshit just to find happiness. I’m finding it, daily, in many ways.

I get to wear cut-off jean shorts and old comfy tees as often as I want.

I still have some things to sift through, especially with my finances. I need to take stock of where I am with my income, and what I have in the bank, and organize my money a bit more. I’ve been spending a bit willy-nilly as of late, and that needs to stop. Money, so far, is a finite resource, and given I only have met a few clients at the new job, and only for an intro meeting, I don’t have much coming in from that – yet. I was just handed a list of people who I can follow up with, and have, with regards to getting them to meet with me at the club. Still, until those turn into standing training clients, I’m still grasping around in the dark. I’m still leaning into my online clientele, and that’s okay, for now.


The other major change that’s occured is, of course, the return and resurgence of David’s place in my life. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in Denver, living his best new life or whatever, but, instead, he’s come back.

I’m still wrapping my head around this fact.

The affection resumes.

We spent last weekend driving to Salt Lake City to pick up the rest of his belongings from his sister’s place. I got to meet one of his oldest friends, Sean, and also meet his sister, brother-in-law, his nieces and nephew, and have a nice chat with his dad again.

David’s family is supremely important to him, and while he doesn’t like to admit it, he feels like he’s got to carry them in some fashion. I’m not sure what that will look like going forward, as he’s still got to get his own feet under him, but I know that he’s, more than once, talked to me about what happens when his dad, who’s 73 years old as of a few days ago, has a decline in his health. It’s coming, and David is preparing himself for it daily. I already know he’ll be leaning in on me when things turn for his dad.

Beyond all of that, we both recognize that this time around for us, we are seeking comfort and peace with each other. No more drama, secrets, or fear of asking questions that are hard, or might cause concern. I feel like he’s hiding far less from me this time around, and I’m actively facing each day with him as a new experience to enjoy, rather than putting any weight on our future. He doesn’t have much to show with regards to sticking power and being present in a long-term relationship, so I’m still a bit guarded. I think that’s okay, though, and it’s helping me keep my inner codependent self at ease. I don’t *need* David. I don’t need his validation or approval or any of that. I *want* his presence in my life, in as many ways as possible, because I do, in fact, love him. However, it’s not a desperate kind of love. It’s easier, calmer, more gentle.

It’s better this time around, in many ways.

Well-Laid Man

Plus, let’s be real. The sex has been amazing. Connected love-making with David has been the cornerstone of our connection, and it continues to be. Exploring my sexuality, our shared and disparate kinks, and all the rest, has been a JOY to experience, and I can’t wait to see what we get up to.

“I’ve made a mistake.”

That was his text message to me, three days after he landed in Denver.

He’s on a plane back to Portland tomorrow.

Freshly Made, Ready for Us to Enjoy Together

I’m not 100% sure what’s going to happen next, but I’m picking him up at 5:40p at Portland International Airport, and we will be in the same domicile for the foreseeable future.

When he left, I made sure he kept the house key. It’s a thing I do for the boys I’ve loved, and a way to make sure that, no matter where they are, they know they have a place they can come to when things go sideways. If there’s one thing in life I know, it’s that things go sideways. All the damn time.

I just didn’t expect them to go sideways so quickly for him.


I asked him for more details, and from what he could tell me, the place he landed was no home. Not even in the slightest. He had nowhere to sit, could barely sleep, nowhere to store or prepare food. It all just was terrible.

I could have started in on him, about making a rash decision and jumping headfirst into something he wasn’t 100% sure about, but I refrained. Why? Because I’ve done the same damn thing, three monumentally terrible times, and I know how it goes. I know how the heart can take the lead and all that. I know what that rush of new and different feels like. I get it.

Instead, I just listened. I reiterated what I felt for him, and what I still feel for him, and he’s admitted that he’s been harboring feelings for me still all through this little side quest of his. He’s been struggling with who he is, what he is, and all the rest. He’s not happy, and he’s strayed too far off the path he was intending.

So? He’s coming back. And my friends are none too impressed by it. I’ve had more than a few people reiterate that he hurt me pretty badly, that he treated me very poorly, and that he’s taken advantage of me in ways that are deeply painful. I know he has. I recognize the truth in their spoken words and my lived experience. I know that letting him back into my life comes with a phenomenal amount of emotional risk. I own all of that.

But I will also own that so much of me really needs to see where this story goes next.

I guess stay tuned. Reserve judgement if you can, or let me have it if you feel that’s necessary.

A Deep Goodbye

The Boy and I had yesterday together, most of the day, anyway. We started off by going to the gym, with a plan for hiking after.

At the gym, though, and I’m not sure why I let myself get to this level, my anxiety flew through the roof. I found myself rushing through my workout, really amping up with thoughts that were short-circuiting, and all the rest. At the end of the workout, I nearly stormed out of the gym, and had to catch my breath in the Jeep for a bit. My brain just couldn’t decipher out joy from the endorphin rush of the workout, and the adrenaline that was pumping through my body.

The Boy could tell I was upset, but I remained silent, and just drove us home. I asked, briefly, if he was still up for hiking, to which he said yes, and that’s what broke the ice. I admitted that I was in the middle of a panic attack, and that I just needed the trees. He needed food, but was very agreeable to getting out to the woods. In time, and with some more breathing, I was able to bring myself down out of the rafters, but in the quiet in the Jeep, I also watched as he dove into his text messages and totally checked out on the present-tense with me.

He’s got a new beau, some man from Denver that he’s fallen for, and who is captivating him.

The lump in my throat that had been there for a while, regarding my connection to the Boy and myself, grew a bit bigger.

We started off on the trail, and since the cell signal died, he shoved his phone into his front pocket, only to pull it out to snap photos of flowers and things we saw along the trail. We talked, lightly, and generally, but it was when he started shooting a video, explaining where he was, that I paused again.

I knew this was probably one of the last days I’d be carrying a candle for what he and I had shared previously, as a closely-tied intimate couple. Those days were, at last, over, in my heart. I just paused, watching him wander down the trail ahead of me, and felt my whole self say goodbye.

The hike turned into quite the challenge towards the end, with some cliff scaling and usage of ropes to steady our ascent and descent. The payoff, however, was amazing. It was a waterfall, the kind that Oregon loves to deliver, with water cascading out over a basalt ledge, forming a basin, and an alcove behind the waterfall, where he and I found ourselves, covered in mist and mud, and in awe of the flow of water from above our heads.

In that roar of water, I told him that I loved him deeply, that I would always love him, and that I am having to let go of the love of my life. I squeezed his hand as he stared out at the water, knowing that he heard me, and we had a moment of silence between each other.

The walk back, was quiet.

The drive home was also quiet.

We ended up separating for a while when we got home, exhausted and tired, and laying down in our separate places. After a hot shower, and some food, we ended up chatting a bit more, and I found myself feeling both relaxed and quiet, with a lot of emotions bubbling up, but keeping myself in control of them.

This transition between us will be peaceful going forward. I’ve lost the fight in me to try and find a way back into his heart. He’s got his sights set on someone new, the next new thing for his own life, and I realize that, perhaps, this is what it feels like to be a Dad, for real, letting his beloved Son leave the nest they’d shared.

I will always love him, deeply and profoundly, as his impact on my life is still reverberating through everything I say, do, and feel, and I know that I am proud of him for doing what he needs to do to achieve the things he desires. Did we both fuck up along the way? Yes. Do we both care for each other still? Yes, as well.

Reckoning, a Bit

He’s got a date tonight.

I told him from the start of this reconnect that I’m totally comfy with him dating, seeing others, and all of that. I meant it then, I still mean it today.

However, this information today has got me back on my heels, deciphering why I reacted to this news the way I did. Initially, it stung, and I know why. I haven’t been checking myself, keeping myself on the path I knew I’d need to traverse, since the Boy has returned into my life. Instead, I’ve let myself start to believe that this was really going to be a second attempt at what we started with, that I’d be able to let go of my reservations and fall deeply in love with him again, without fear or worry of losing him. I started to create this fantasy in my head, and living my days as though it was real.

It’s not real. Not really. He’s still after a thing that doesn’t look like the relationship I have with him, and that’s a fact. He’s said so himself.

I need to respect that, and welcome the reckoning with the way I’ve been feeling and thinking about the connection I have reformed with him. The other thing I need to do, which he reminded me of last night, was to stop racing ahead, future-planning and pressurizing, and getting out ahead of the reality that we both share. Yes, he might have a date tonight, but that doesn’t mean he’s off and gone and disappeared forever. Nor does it mean that I need to stop making more space for the kind of love I am seeking, either with him, or with a potential future partner.

The fact is, I am an emotionally polyamorous person, with deep, non-sexual connection to a few different men. I am, also, sexually monogamous, in that my body really only functions well when I can have a solid, continuous connection to another person’s body and sex, surrounded in love and warmth and safety. The Boy once provided that for me, which is what my body still actively craves, and it’s that energy and flow that I’ve started to really enjoy again, and which has led me to creating a fantasy world that contains us in that fashion.

Needless to say, it’s tricky. All of this is tricky. All of it requires me to let go of the future I think I’m headed to, and simply remain present-tense, in this space of current status, current feelings, and current pursuits. I told him that I needed to pull back from him a bit, and I don’t think he liked that.

He prefers me to be my full-on loving, open-hearted, generous self. Of course he does – it’s my best feature, and my most supportive. If I withdraw, then he has to face the challenges of his own days on his own, which, if I’m frank, might be a good test for him to undertake, and drive the choices that he’s making.

I know, at the end of this all, that I’m worthy of being loved in the way that I am seeking. I also know that it’s not impossible, or even difficult, to be in a monogamous and powerful sexual/physical relationship with me, with all the added support, love, and commitment that comes with that for me, who’s also demisexual and needs that emotional level of contact above all, and still not be threatened by the emotional connections and feelings of attachment I have to others in my life.

If it makes him feel better, I can just call them “close friends” which is more for his benefit, and not mine. I simply don’t have titles for the men I love anymore, nor do I have titles for myself in all of it either. I’m simply Thom. Everyone I’m connected to is also, just Themselves.

I think he’s still figuring out the shape of his heart, and what his heart really needs. I also still think that, in time, he will come to recognize me as a bonus to his life, and will settle on a connection with me that is mutually beneficial, but that will all remain to be seen. It’s in his hands. I’m going to be me, regardless, and love how I love, regardless. He doesn’t get a say in how my heart works.

That’s all on me.

Half-Way

Today is Imbolc, the half-way holiday between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox.

Around here, that means there’s daylight in the sky (barely) until 6p and that brings me joy. This winter has been a mix of joy and light, but also darkness and brooding.

The Boy has been decompressing from his move here back in October, and the slide down from that initial excitement and engagement with a new life in a new place has transitioned into a darker depression than I think neither him, nor I, were ready for. Lots of questions about the longevity of our connection have emerged, and there’s lots of worry from both of us about the path forward.

Along with all of this, I’ve been working with a new therapist and psychologist to get my meds right and my therapy on the track it needs to be on. So far, the meds are still wobbly (but working), and the therapy is about to take a deep-dive into an old place of sadness and pain that I’ve been avoiding for the better part of twenty-five years. It’s not going to be easy, and on the flip, it runs the risk of making me emotionally unavailable to him, and to other people in my life who count on me to be their support. I *know* they all know this is how it sometimes goes, but I really do loathe not being strong enough to carry all the weight.

I am Dad, after all.

Still, there are buds on the trees. The daffodils in protected corners are reaching for the heavens, even when the sky remains mostly cloudy and grey. The moments the sun is out are fortuitous and warm. There is a sparkle of optimism and hope that is alive in every peep and cheep from the hummingbirds and chickadees that surround our apartment complex. Life is continuing and moving onward, and the sun is returning. Not all is lost.

David and I had a lovely date yesterday, having had lunch at a food cart pod, and then visiting a really great comic book store. After returning home, we had a very lovely intimate session in his room. Deep in embrace, I admitted I was scared of losing him. He admitted he was scared of losing me too. Putting those fears out on the table, however, I think has reduced the amount of space and energy they take up in our brains, and we recommitted to putting more effort in wherever we could to make this work. We deeply, deeply love each other, and are a team when it comes to facing down the adversities we share. While I can’t totally remedy the roadblocks ahead of him, nor can he mine, we can be there for each other, in ways that extend beyond just a hug, or a fuck, or even a hand-hold.

I also know that, in the end, his life is vast and has many more curves and pathways ahead for him. While I might not always be in his life physically, I am resolute in the belief I will be in his life, somehow, until the end of my days here. Nothing can shake that from me, ever.

And, this morning, as my coffee swirls under the light of a shitty overhead apartment fixture, I feel secure in at least where my heart lies.

I’m ready to do this work ahead of me, so that I might be an even better lover to David, to my husband, and to my other partners who do lean and rely on me to be there for them, as much as they’ve been there for me.

This is how it works.

More than a Boy

He’s more than just my Boy. I call him Son, sometimes, but he’s growing into something Else. I’m not sure what to label things, so I think I’ll just not and let them be what they Are, whatever that might be, or become.

David’s been here about two months now, and from what I can tell, things between him and myself are just getting started. We’ve got a settled pattern of behavior, which works for us both, for now. He doesn’t have a job yet, so that will most likely shift as time passes, hopefully. Still, the way we move together, and the time we spend with each other, has become more and more like time spent with another piece of me. We fuck, we laugh, we scheme, we talk. We work out together. We share common desires for ourselves and for our futures.

We are deeply in Love.

He’s still quite reserved about his feelings, though, and the last couple of days has been a bit of a deeper dive into that part of him.

He knows I’m polyamorous. He knew this entering into anything with me, knows of my partners and my connection to them, and knows that he cannot take up more space in my heart than he already does.

But I think he forgets sometimes. And I think he’s still testing the waters to see how he feels about all of this.

Apparently, loving a person who also holds love for others is a weirdly wired challenge for him, as it has been for the other young men I’ve attempted to bring into my life on this level. It’s a bit tiresome on my end of things, and I am finding myself holding back, dialing myself and my own expression of affection, connection, and emotion into a safer place, under control.

Naw, that’s phrased wrong.

What I’m doing is silently holding my feelings for myself and watching as he develops and changes to his new situation in his life. I think I’ve learned that it’s not on me to adjust myself so far out of whack with who I am to meet his needs. I don’t need to compromise how I identify or how I love, just to be enough for him. This time around, I’m keeping my cool, and keeping control of myself and my emotional state, while letting him go through what he needs to go through. I am constantly remembering that this could all fall apart at any moment.

Thing is, that’s the truth for all of my relationships. Each one of them is a daily choice to be made.

He admitted to me that he’s struggling with his sense of insecurity, which leans into the generic “jealousy” realm. Jealousy, is an over-arching word for a ton of other smaller feelings, and when I hear that word, I’m set off in search of the underlying feeling that’s more precise. In his case, he’s at a crossroads between wanting a singular man all to himself, like he has had before, or wanting the lateral flexibility to love more than one man, such as I do, and expand his understanding of committed relationships and love, overall.

Right from the start, it was he who told me that he wanted to love in a similar fashion to me. He wanted to hold space and affection for more than one person. I told him I could show him how it works for me, and I have been doing that for the last eight months. What I think might be happening is that he’s discovered there’s a boundary, and he needs to negotiate his comfort level with this. I’ve told him that I have made more space for him, at the expense of my other relationships, in order to make him more comfortable while he figures this out.

But I won’t go further than what I’ve done.

I don’t have to compromise so much that I lose parts of my heart in the process. I have worked very hard to establish and maintain the relationships that I have in my life, and they are vital to my life, and deserve attention and care. He knows this, respects this, and has recognized his own shortcomings that he, alone, will have to negotiate.

One Month

David arrived on October 5th, with the intent of attending a job interview with a shipping company here in Portland. His intent: get to Portland, back to the PNW, and to be closer to me.

The job? Well, the company had misrepresented themselves in the ad, and David passed on that interview. But, he still arrived, eager to make a go of a new life, and a new love, in a new place, ready to engage with a new chapter for himself, and for us.

One month on, and I can honestly say that Dad could not be more contented. Daily, he and I connect, giggle, kiss, and are genuinely affectionate with each other. Daily, we talk about our mental health status, the challenges we are facing, and realizing slowly that we’ve got each other to lean on now, and for as long as we want to do so.

In this last month, I’ve learned that I have so much more healing and personal growth to undertake. Because of David’s persistent affection and presence, with so many huge hugs, deep kisses, belly rubs, and all the rest, I am learning that I still don’t love myself, my body, and my mind nearly enough. I don’t appreciate all that I am capable of, nor do I count myself as worthy of many of the amazing and wonderful aspects of my life. I have to be kinder, gentler, more loving, to myself, if I really ever expect myself to be able to love as big as my heart requires.

Taking care of the Boy while he gets his feet under him has been such an undertaking, and has left me feeling like there’s so much more I could and should be doing. I want to do more of this, too. I want to be more of a caregiver, a nurturer, a source of peace, love, and comfort for more of my community. In order to be that guy, though, I have to get my own affairs in order. I have to be better with my resources, and how I use them, and how I meter them out. I have to be smarter, wiser, and kinder.

I still have so much more growth to undertake, even now, after the midpoint of my physical life has arrived. It’s amazing, really.