Tag: self

Beyond a Break-Up

Over the last week or so, the Boy and I have been in regular communication. In fact, we’ve seen each other, in person, two times in the last forty-eight hours. Both times have been deeply reaffirming for both of us, and have led us to understand that there is, in fact, a bond between us that exists, possibly outside of normal labels and nomenclature.

For now, we are exploring things without the weight of title or expectation. We are embracing the moments we share together without distraction and in full-view honesty with each other. It’s been utterly refreshing to show him the side of me that he once fell in love with. The joyful, unpressurized, full-on person that I can be, with my goofy personality and a bit askew takes on how I view the world around me, all gets to take a seat in the space he and I share, and I think it’s been really good for him to both get to know me that way, again, and for me to let go of the expectations I thought he had for me.

Things aren’t moving in any sort of way with him and I. They just…are. This energy? It’s just existing. Simply. In the present-tense.

And it’s feeling so joyous and closer to perfection that I ever thought possible.

The concept of a Break Up is just as important to explore as Falling In Love, to be honest. What does it mean to “break up” with someone? How does one reconcile the space between one and another who, in a literal previous moment, held a different place in our hearts? Does it undo all that came before, like an existential erase-and-rewind, or is it possible to integrate those memories into a better future? What choices need to be made, in that one moment, to ensure that both people are left feeling both informed and supported, even through what feels like the darkest of dark moments?

We’ve chosen to explore a world beyond those boundaries and demarcations. We’ve decided to let go of all those frameworks, foisted upon us by outside forces, and just let whatever shape this energy between us decides to form simply exist as it wants to, without restraint or guidance or containment. If it changes through time – which all relationships do, all the time – then so be it. I know he’s seeking something different than what I can provide, perhaps, but then I might also change my focus as well. We are two bodies in close-orbit with each other, but each with their own surface temperatures, textures, and storms. We can co-exist as separate entities and entities that share a bond. Recognizing this as a reality, not only in my relationship with the Boy, but with regards to all of the relationships in my whole life, is a fucking SPIN on the HEAD of everything I’ve ever been taught about Love in all of its various forms.

The fact is, my whole body does react to him. Hell, even typing all of this out is sending a relaxing vibe through my body, blood to all of my extremities, and a warm fuzzy feeling in my mind. I can’t deny that part of our connection, nor do I want to. Last night, over a delightful dinner and time spent being personal with each other, we both remained vulnerable and in the moment in a way that was such a positive experience. It’s hard to put it into words. You just had to be there, I guess.

This is how I love.

This is my path.

And the more I spend time on this rocky trail, I realize that it’s the closest I’ve ever been to being my authentic, true self. It’s wild that it’s taken me till 45 years of age to get here, but sometimes time just doesn’t matter. Not in the formation of the human psyche or mind space. I am my own vessel on my own journey, and I don’t need to live in shame for how I interface with the world around me. It works for me, and that’s all that matters. Open-hearted, willing to explore those threads of connectivity, and let the energy flow where it wants…more please. Much more of this, in fact.

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NSA

No strings attached.

I woke up yesterday, still processing the way the Boy left my life, trying to piece together the timeline that my anxiety rage tried to obscure from my mind. I think I landed on something that hit deep, and struck a chord within me I haven’t plucked in a very long time.

He’d mentioned that he spent time googling and exploring the meaning of “polyamory” in his journey to understanding me, how my heart works, and whether or not it was something he could accept. Along the way, he realized that wasn’t how his heart worked, and that it would be a constant struggle with me, should we remain together. I sat with that revelation from him for a bit. It got me to thinking about definitions, about the words we use in our language to express states of being or thought, and what we’ve collectively agreed upon as working for us, broadly speaking, so we can communicate with one another without having to pause and explain nuance or differentiation.

Words like “husband” or “boyfriend” or “married” or even “love” itself, all carry a socially accepted definition. Hell, one could argue that the whole of Merriam-Webster is founded on this idea of collective definitions. But what happens when those definitions don’t fully apply? What if my understanding of the word “husband” isn’t exactly the same as yours? What kind of assumptions are you making about me, as a husband, when you hear me called that? How is your language and classification of me, using labels like husband-lover-boyfriend-Dad-etc, changing your perception of me?

For the Boy, I think he got caught up in all of that. I think, and I’m not certain so I’ll never be fully sure, that he started to see me through the filters that those words, those descriptors, layered over me. Instead of seeing me as a solid, single entity named Thom, he saw me through the funhouse of mirrors that those words became.

He never asked me to explain myself, or when I did try to add nuance or gradients or turn those words into a spectrum of meaning for him, he didn’t or couldn’t get there with me. I think the difference between what he understood those words to mean, and how they applied to me, was too much of a gap for him.

Again, I don’t know, and might never know for sure, but it’s a theory that seems to fit well with regards to the situation.

I don’t want those terms applied to me. At all. I want to be known as just me, for my name, for as long as possible.

I don’t want to be classified, boxed, organized, shelved, categorized, or labeled, and have those things be the only thing I am for any one person. It makes my skin itch to think about how constrained those words make my entire being become in the minds of others. I’m more than any one of them, an amalgamation of all of them, and also exist beyond what any google page or dictionary might have to add to the understanding of each of those words.

Going forward, I’m going to be cutting more of these strings.

I don’t want the weight of them on my body and personhood. I want to engage with people who are willing to question the words and terms they use to describe someone else, especially as they get to know that person more intimately, and understand that just because they have their own understanding of what those concepts, those categories, all kind of mean, they might not know the full spectrum of definition. I want them to be as curious about redefining these words, these weighted, heavy, long-standing words, full of both promise and problems, and take ownership of the words they use.

This year, this summer, this new season of Spring and at the midpoint of my life, I’m going to be far more selective about who I let in close to me. I have that right, and I owe it to myself to surround myself with quality people who enhance my life. I’m also going to start valuing myself, my own personhood, a bit higher. I’m considering the ways I can express myself and be closer to who I am, and how that can add to my life.

Stay Tuned. Daddy is going to explore this darkness a bit more, and see what he comes up with. 💚

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After

Today has been a day of reconnection.  

I had a lovely moment with my husband in our shower, as we lathered up and cleaned our skin for the day.  In the steam and water, we embraced, for the first time in a very, very long time.  Our schedules, and with the introduction of the ex-boyfriend over the last few months, has meant that we’ve definitely not been able to connect on even the most basic level. A quick chat over morning coffee, sometimes, does not make for a healthy marriage, and I felt that pressure early on in my time with the Boy.  

Still, my husband knew that I was going through a thing with the Boy, and that I needed space to find my pace and place with the addition to my family and our home.  He was happy to see the joy on my face that the Boy brought into my life, even while he was worried about the stress I was putting myself through to support him and also maintain my connections with the other men that I love.

It would come to pass that, in fact, my husband was a little hurt by how little time we saw and spent with each other.  He admitted this to me yesterday, and I had to sit with that fact for my entire work day.  Turns out, he wasn’t deeply hurt, but just a little wary about things between us.  We’ve been together for over nine years now, and our relationship has become stronger and more unique as time has passed.  Others from the outside have definitely judged our connection, and some do not understand it, or can’t wrap their minds around it.  Frankly, that’s how I’d like it to be. People will always make assumptions and categorize the things they do not understand or have experienced themselves, and our resilience to exist through all of that is only a testament to how strong we are as a couple.

I also had a moment to reconnect with my other local partner today.  David, the DJ, has been part of my PolyFam for a few years now, and while our connection is definitely more of a light-touch, no-expectations kind of arrangement, we did miss each other while I was wrapped up in my other situation. In the past couple of weeks, we’ve been able to come back together, and express love and intimacy in ways that work for us, and that support and nourish each other, as we’ve been doing all along. He loves that he can let down his guard with me and be “small,” while I enjoy offering him solace and security when the world gets hard for him.  He also gives me solid advice about how my heart feels, and reminds me, often, that I have true value in the world and am worthy of love that reflects that. While I’ve been in this moment of transition in my relationships, he’s been so good at helping me keep my balance, and re-establish who I am, how I love, and what that all means.

I have also spent some time, briefly, connecting with my longer-distant partners, Cody and Rene, and just reminding them that I love them and that they matter. Cody is managing a relationship shift in his life, as well, and so it’s important to me to be there for him in as many ways as possible.  Rene is overwhelmed with stress and is trying to find balance between caring for himself and keeping himself invested in his community.  Much along the lines with Cody, I am distant, but am there for him in any way that I can be.  Long distance is tricky, but it’s doable.  

I will carry on with my life, the way I love, and build more faith in my own self and my own values as time passes.  My journey with the ex-boyfriend was a bit of a stress-test for me that I really needed to go through in order to find the boundaries that I cannot cross, and how much tolerance I have for flexibility across the areas of my life. I still have miles to go and healing to do, but I feel like today was a good first solid step in that direction. 

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Personal Trainer Body

Not One Visible Ab

I answered a tweet question today from a “fitty” I follow on there. They’re a personal trainer/nutrition twitter account, and they’ve had some decent content, but today, they left a bit of an acrid taste in my mouth. Well, no – not the OP – more like the comments section

And I already know “never read the comments” is a VERY LOUD internet rule of thumb.

The other replies? Well, I won’t get into it much, as I’m sure you can figure it out, but what was on display was a laundry list of reasons why I doubt myself as a personal trainer and nutrition coach.

As you can see, I am not what you think of when you hear the term “fit”. I do not have a visible ab (nor will I ever). I have excess skin, stretch marks, I do not nor will I ever shave my body hair. I don’t ever plan on using steroids, or even getting plastic surgery.

So why did I let those comments get to me?

Why did this HUGE TIDAL WAVE of doubt and shame sweep over me?

Because I have been fighting with my body for as long as I can remember.

I have come a very, very long way.

But I don’t know if it’s enough.

I have never felt attractive, and I struggle to accept compliments when they are offered. I have battled and inflicted self-harm on myself for years in an attempt to carve my body into a shape that is more appealing to wider society. I have been subsumed in images of plump muscles with visible veins and all the rest my entire life. I have never had a role model in the fitness industry who was also built like I am, or shared my enjoyment and happiness with finding strength and teaching others how to build muscle and confidence through movement and nutrition. I cannot help but wonder if I’m fooling myself into thinking I could possibly pursue this as a life path, let alone one day making it a full-on career.

I will continue at it, however. I have plans to enroll in a L2 Master Health Coach course offered by Precision Nutrition later this year, funded entirely the clients I currently work with. They deserve the best coach I can be, and with their support, I’ll be able to give back to them a level of personal training and support that rises to the level they have earned. I love my clients a ton, and I am deeply thankful they’ve given me a chance.

Maybe it is enough. Maybe I am enough.
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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.

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Social Realignment

Over on the Bird App, which I’ve become so damn fond of, things are fracturing even more. The Thing In Charge is revealing themselves to be an utter monster, and while I’m there, it feels icky, like I’m sticking my head in the sand and just doing my thing, all while knowing exactly what it is I’m feeding into.

Meanwhile, over here, in the land of Jockstraps and Evergreens, I feel like I can express myself far more authentically. I feel like, at least here, I can share and be heard in a way that suits me, doesn’t have to feed into the machinations of a megalomaniac, and could become some sort of online rest stop for my thoughts, ideas, projects, and expressions.

I know, this site started off as some sort of dark and sassy vaguely porn-ish thought process. And, yes, it’ll probably be that too, but expect more from me in terms of sharing thoughts, talking about the things that matter to me, with visuals that are hopefully tasteful yet evocative. That’s my goal, anyway.

I can’t manage the split-off of all of the people and voices that I once had gathered together over there on the Bird App. It’s not up to me to go chasing them down, to follow along, to reach out and find every last one of them. That took multiple years to craft and build so that my experience there was mostly uplifting and positive for me. I don’t have the patience for that, or, if I’m fully honest, the need for that much interaction anymore.

My life is *full* these days. David’s arrival in October really did fill the gap that was in my heart, that I was using social media to fill. I’ve said it time and again, but I’ve stopped Seeking for while, and for as long as he’s in my life. I’m not looking for that certain kind of someone, who’s both calm and sweet and loving, but also energetic and challenges me and my ways of thinking. I’m not on the hunt for someone who’s a fantastic romp in bed, but also isn’t looking to be that romp for lots of other people (I know, that’s a conundrum regarding my polyamory best left for a separate post). I’m not reaching into the Void to find other energies to bring into my life, only to be discarded or ignored or skipped over because I don’t fit a certain spot or ideal that they’re seeking. No, now that The Boy is here, and we’ve started to Build Our Thing, I don’t need to constantly Seek, Hunt, Search, Find, and Reach for the entity and energy that he now brings into my life. I have that.

For that, I am deeply, deeply grateful.

So? Perhaps it’s a social media Hermitage that’s in process. Perhaps it’s a break from the constant engagement and comments and thread-reading. Perhaps, for now, it’s time to look more locally for engagement and interaction that includes time spent with those who are in arm’s reach. The fact is, I have community here, and I need and want to be more of a part of it. I have this whole nutrition and fitness coaching side of me that’s just waiting for my attention and efforts. I need to scope out how networking is done here, among the 🌈Fam of Portland, and engage with that more.

I’ve got more to do than scroll infinitely.

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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.

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Mental Health Days

I grew up in a world where mental health concerns were the stuff of humor and ridicule. Mental health hospitals were deemed terms like “looney bin” and “psycho ward” and the like. Conversations about people with mental health issues included terms like “bat-shit crazy” and “psychotic” in ways that indicated derision and a derogatory tone. Mental health issues were a shameful thing, best dealt with quietly, in the darkness, and out of sight. Nobody admitted they were on pills to cope. Ever.

For years, I cast off any suggestion that I had depression, or needed therapy, or any help at all. I denounced all mental health meds as just “crutches for the weak” (again, ableist as fuck) and denied myself the care I clearly needed because of the stigma around not being normal.

That stopped, fully, last year, when I started down a path towards my own mental health improvement. My anxiety and depression had gotten so bad that it was affecting how I interacted with the people I love. I was sleeping maybe 4-5 hours a night, my insides were always in a knot, and my drinking had grown exponentially. I needed to come to terms with my old ways of thinking, and admit that I needed help.

Thankfully, I had (and still have) a wonderful support network around me to lean on when shit hits the fan. Dad’s not as strong as he’d like to be, but then again, the definition of “strength” is malleable. I’m learning a lot about the bullshit I carried around for years. I’m working through it. Part of that journey meant coming to terms with my needs at work. I finally applied for an intermittent medical leave, a protected right under the federal Family Medical Leave Act, which will help me both keep my job, and work even harder on my mental health needs and growth.

Today, I finally took advantage of this protection for the first time.

I woke up feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, and as I looked at my scheduled day – 12 hours at the handle of my train – and felt myself already mentally crushing under the weight of that. I made a choice. Today is a self-care day. I have been running hard for a few days straight now, and I’ve hit a wall. Mentally and physically. I lost track of myself yesterday, forgot my meds, and started to grind my own self down.

This decision runs smack against everything I’ve ever been taught about work and reliability and all of that. I still struggle with these old ways of thinking, still refer to myself as “broken” when that’s not fully accurate. Perhaps, today, as I recover and pull myself together again, I will ruminate on the way I talk about my own mental health and wellbeing.

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Second Life

It’s really hitting that I need some massive changes in my life. My job in public transit is steady and even, in terms of pay and such, but man, it’s taking the life right out of my body at pretty steady flow. It has been for a number of years now, and I’m fed up with it.

Over the last six months or so, I’ve taken up with something that was suggested to me by my old fitness coach, and gone and got myself certified as a personal trainer and nutrition coach.

Turns out, I fucking love it.

I’ve got a couple of paying clients, with more on the way (if we are a match), and I find myself really enjoying the interactions with people who want to make changes in their lives with regards to food and fitness.

Who the hell knew this Certified Fat Kid from Maine would ever find himself *happy at a gym,* let alone THRILLED to be helping others find happiness at the gym, or even in the kitchen?

Certainly not me.

What this has caused in my life, though, has been a cascade of changes that I’m ready to make, even at this later stage of things.

I applied for a job with the US Forest Service yesterday, as a person who would work in a visitor’s center helping people with information and pass purchases as they entered our nation’s national forests. The pay isn’t much, but it is government work, and it’s in a field that I’ve always loved and wanted to be part of – outdoor recreation and conservation – and would more than likely bring me joy.

I plan on seeking out other opportunities and applying for them as well, in any number of areas of work. I have literally nothing to lose by sticking my hat in a variety of rings, and probably a lot more to gain by seeing where it all takes me.

Yes, even at 45, I feel like I have so much more I could be doing with my time that would be more beneficial to the world, and to myself, in terms of mental health and supporting Joy and Goodness in my life. Why I feel like I’m tied to a job that is literally running me into the ground is beyond me, and I refuse to believe that this is all I’m capable of. I know, for a fact, that I could be doing so much more with my time.

I guess the phrase “Stay Tuned” is applicable here. Dad’s not done finding his way, it seems.

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