I turn 46 in a few days. It’s not a milestone birthday, but it is something, I suppose.
I’m under a lot of pressure to keep after my business, and keep growing it as much as possible, and the daily work is starting to really pick up in speed. If you’d asked me last year at this time, I’d have told you I was VERY unsure about the success of my coaching, and would be under so much stress and pressure from my public transit gig that I’d probably have just slugged some coffee, shot you a dirty look, and headed out the door.
This year, in this pre-birthday space in time, I’m a much different person. I have a beautiful Boy in my bed. I have a burbling and flowing business that, while it’s a bit of a hustle, brings me utter joy the more I engage with it. I have my dog, faithful and steadfast. I have simplified my life by simply saying No and meaning it when I had to.
Things are better.
Things are vastly different from where I thought I’d be
When I started this site, I was attempting to play to my darker side. The sexy, slutty, experiment-in-body-positivity side that I had never nurtured before. I’d never felt so strong, so confident in my personhood. Today, that feeling has simmered into a fine, rich stew of life lessons and emotions. Having the support of the Boy, who sees me as a magical creature, beautiful in nearly every way, and who constantly has me on my heels, questioning every bit of self-doubt that still lingers in my body, has been transformative.
I have learned that I am not meant to manage everything, and that it’s okay to be humble and ask for help and forgiveness at times. I have an inner strength that has been so dormant and yet so persistent my whole life, and through my connection to him, and to the world around me, I’m able to foster more growth and compassion than ever before. When I stop putting in so much frustrated effort towards things that aren’t in my control or purview, I’m able to fully breathe and be myself, for the first time in my whole-ass life.
I turn 46, which is too damn close to 50 for my liking, but it also represents a beautiful moment to stop, take in the view, and spot the peaks and valleys I’ve already traversed.
I really am happy with the view from this vantage point.
Every year since 2010, I’ve had a cold dead rock of emotion inside me on Independence Day.
It was the day my first husband ended my first marriage. It was under the banner of fireworks and pyrotechnics on the banks of the Charles River in Boston, the most Freedom Day place in America on the most Freedom Day of the year.
I was given my freedom, indeed, but felt the cage of all of those demons, that I’d entrusted my marriage to keep me safe from, open wide, and start chewing on me again.
I hadn’t faced down my darkened childhood. I hadn’t take steps to come to terms with my busted first relationship, that had been full of violence and toxicity. I hadn’t even really faced down my own self-destructive nature around food and exercise. Instead, I’d put all of my focus into my marriage, and into being someone’s something, rather than being my anything, at all.
And I started running. For my life.
First, it was running back to Maine, tail between my legs. Then it was actual running – ten miles every other day or so. Then it was to the bar, and drowning out my anxious self, slipping into that time and space that has no feeling and all physicality. Then, it was running on the open road in my car, clear to Denver. I barely paused there, and found myself doing the same sort of running, only this time at altitude – where the air is thin and suffocating all at once.
I finally ran to Portland, and it’s been here where I’ve come to rest. Nearly ten years with Ray meant slowing down, taking stock, and finally, for the first time, pivoting to face the things I could not, physically or emotionally run away from any longer. Hitting forty years of age was the fulcrum point, and since then, nothing’s been the same.
I got my eating and exercise in order. I made steps to embrace my need for mental health help. Now, more recently, I’ve set myself free from a job I hated because it was killing me day by day. I’ve got a massive new love in my life who’s showing that he wants to be here, and be present, even though he’s also stumbling a bit as well.
Tomorrow is the 13th anniversary of my Independence Day.
I’m going to make it a simple and gentle as possible, and remain thankful for the freedom I have in my life now.
I’m a little more free of my past, my demons, my bad choices, and a lot more free to make better, stronger, healthier choices for myself going forward. I have a lot more freedom to love in a way that suits me, and not just for the appeasement of others. I am free to smile in the sunshine, or smile when the rains hit my bald head. I am more free in my spirit than I have been in my whole life.
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 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.
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.
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.
The Boy has given me a date of departure. He will be out of here, and out of Oregon, by June 3, 2023.
He’s been existing in the spare room in the apartment, and for a solid month or so, we’ve been mired in a strange interaction that has been full of both friendship and peace, as well as fraught emotions and pointed arguments. Back and forth, sparring over stupid details, and both of us just in a constant state of heightened emotional being. We are both exhausted by it.
He gave his notice to the job he landed here, a job which he loves, yesterday. His realization that his current income means he won’t get approval for an apartment anytime soon on his own, plus his heart strings being pulled to the Rockies, has been a thing to watch him wrestle. From my vantage point, he’s simply following another guy, and uprooting himself again for another person, without the real effort it takes to put down roots anywhere. I see this in him because, like him, I did the same thing around his age. I get it. Perhaps he’s seeking redemption like I was, a savior, someone to hold him captive long enough to settle him down, much like I was. Perhaps it’s something more. I don’t know. The part that stings the most, for me, is that I was hoping to be that man for him.
Part of me still longs for it, if I’m totally honest. I have offered him a second chance with me, but he simply refuses to entertain the idea. He’s as stubborn as ever (and as me), and is just charging forward with everything. So, we part ways in a few days, and I don’t know if I’ll ever hear from him again. I can only hope that we at least part on good terms.
His departure isn’t the only thing I’m wrestling with either.
I’ve asked my husband, a partner of mine for nearly a decade, to end our marriage. Along with the Boy and I going our separate ways, so too are myself and the man I married a few short years ago. He too is also still in this two-bedroom apartment, with the both of us swapping out nights on the terrible sofa in the living room and the comfy bed we no longer can share.
The decision to ask for a change in our marital status came as a shock to him, but was something I’d been chewing over for quite some time. Lots of things are factors in this move on my part, but most of all is the disconnect between us. His job took so much out of him, leaving very little for me and for us, and the resentment of having to carry the house, the relationship, and all the rest, simply became too much for me. I reached a breaking point, and when I realized that love could feel better than it did, that I could, in fact, be with a person who fosters an alignment between my mind, heart, and full body, and not just pieces of me now and again (something the Boy taught me), I needed a change.
He’s changed jobs, thankfully. He’s also verging on moving out very soon as well, having been on a voracious hunt for a new place to live, one that will accommodate visits with our dog, and give him access to his job and the nightlife he likes. The apartment hunt has been super tedious for him, but last I knew, he’d found a place that would work. His housing decision, it should be noted, was all self-driven. I never asked him to move out. He has opted to flee this apartment we’ve shared, citing access to work as his real reason, and I’ve let him run with it. I’ve also secured the apartment here as mine alone, qualifying to be on the lease as the sole occupant, which was a bedrock stability moment for me, as well. He knows where I live, and is always welcome to come for a visit. He remains a friend, though I don’t know how much our paths will cross as he dives into this new direction in his life.
I will be living the single, solo life in a very short amount of time.
I have not lived by myself, on purpose, ever. I’ve always either been seeking a partner to join me in living, or been living with a partner or roommate for all of my adult life. This shift represents something quite massive for me, and I’m both nervous and excited for it. After losing two major relationships back-to-back, I know I need some time to heal and pull myself together. I want to explore the ways that I give out so much energy to others, and how to keep healthy boundaries for myself, so as not to give away so much in the future. I need to settle into love with myself, and find that deep-core self that is a more true version of me for others to get to know, and possibly love.
I have so much to do for myself in the coming weeks and months. I am going to dive deep into my personal training, stepping away from my transit job in good time, so as to be available for coaching at any time during my day. I’m ramping up at a fancy health club nearby that signed me on as a trainer, and still running my own virtual training website, AND working with a second coach on his virtual training program as well. I’ve got my eyes on mid-July as the moment I hang up my keys and turn in my uniform, but it all depends.
I’m also taking this pivot-point in my life to do some deep financial restructuring, and getting my fiscal feet under me in a way that’s far more solid. I spent years trying to buy the happiness that I was missing in my life, and have since learned that it is impossible to do that. You cannot fill in that void with things, no matter how much you try, and in the end, it just adds to the pile of stress and worry, and that moment of joy become obscured in interest rates and credit scores. It’s far past time to reckon with this in a fundamental way.
Throwing a stick of dynamite into one’s own life is a scary fucking proposition, but I do know, in the end, I will emerge a better, stronger, purer version of myself. I didn’t know I could light my own phoenix fire, but here I am, holding the recently-lit matchstick in my fingers.
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.
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.
As of yesterday, he’s back. The Boy has returned, after alerting me a few days ago that his housing situation had gone sideways. Immediately, I went into action and started to chat with the Hubz about what we could do. The Boy and I have been negotiating a peaceful reconfiguration of our connection, both of us realizing that we have a bond that, try as we might, still exists and still needs some attention, so when he reached out, it wasn’t a moment to fall back into old habits and patterns and such. It’s a new chance, perhaps, to be the kind of person in his life I had intended on being all along.
The Hubz agreed, we could let him back in, with a word of caution about losing myself in that connection again. I vowed to him, and to another partner, that I would not do that. This is a reconnect on terms that make far more sense to me.
The Boy will have more autonomy, more freedom to explore his own heart and meet new people. I’ve put out there that I am still working on my own heart-shape, and that I’ve come to some realizations about the way I work as a human in relationship to others, and told him my discoveries so far. Together, though, we are finding far more common ground, and are starting to develop new spaces and ways to both keep exploring what he and I share, but also leave room for our own personal growth and development. I don’t feel the pressure to change how I love, or who I share my heart with. I also am willing to face down the insecurities that I still hold, and the ways I manage my behavior when things get tricky. It’s a constant work in progress, and I want to demonstrate to myself, and to those around me, including the Boy, that I’m capable of growth and change, even at the prime age of forty-five.
We spent the day getting him set up. A trip to Costco for groceries, that he bought. A lovely, cuddly nap. A trip to IKEA to get other pieces of furniture both for the room he’s in, but also as furniture I’ll need once that space is returned back to me as my office. As he was assembling the desk we bought, I gave him space in his room, to do what he wanted. He needed to make some phone calls, and deal with other things, and giving him space to be on his own for that felt important. Plus, I’d spent all day with him, and needed my own decompression time too. I needed to quiet my mind, sift through some thoughts, and remember who I am, and where I am in all of this. I don’t want to get lost in the shuffle and feels that all of this generated the last time we cohabitated.
It wasn’t until later, around the time that I was contemplating that I should get to bed, that I got a text, asking me to spend the night with him. I said that it would be a lovely thing, and agreed to do so, but it should be noted that I never assumed I’d be sleeping with him. It’s a boundary and behavior I want to employ going forward. I will go where I’m invited, either to the bed I share with my Hubz, or if the Boy wants company overnight. But he’s going to have to ask for it. It makes me feel wanted, when he does ask, but it also makes me feel like I’m supporting him and giving him more authority over his life, when he doesn’t ask.
His time here is limited, as he’s actively seeking to find a space for himself, and that also has added a bit of reprieve from the pressure I felt before. I am really just thankful for the opportunity to provide him shelter and quiet and peace while his life, which is seemingly full of chaos, rolls onward. I do not miss the messiness of my late twenties/early thirties. I know he’ll find his way, he’s a survivor of the highest order, but if I can make that journey a little more comfortable for him, because I truly do love him in a way I didn’t see coming, the better I feel.
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.
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. 💚
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.