Sometimes I am lonely and tired and I miss him.
This is my price of admission.
Sometimes I am lonely and tired and I miss him.
This is my price of admission.
So March is my anniversary month for the blog.
I love my blog. I have gotten so much pleasure and satisfaction from it. I love that I have readers in Germany, and Canada, and dozens of other places. I love the comments and the commenters. Sometimes the stories spill from me in an instant, and sometimes I don’t write for weeks, because there’s nothing there. It’s not time yet.
Then, when the stories come back, I feel so good, so settled, so whole. When the words elude me, I sit and stare at the screen of my laptop, and wait. Sometimes I wait a long time, before closing my computer and promising to come back later.
I am able to see some of the search terms that people use to find Poly Nirvana. They can be downright hilarious…
I seriously love that this little space of mine is two years old.
I’ve accepted a new position doing case management for a large home health and hospice company. I start in ten days. I’m both happy and terrified.
Reporter has gone radio silent. I think he’s shy, but a girl shouldn’t have to work this hard! (Neither should a boy. There should be some mutual pursuit. Just saying.)
Special Man Friend and Mrs. A have broken up, but they are in that raw “just broken up” period, where everyone is sad and mad and hurt and confused and nobody has any distance from it, and nobody has made any peace. (More on that later.)
I have three photo shoots this weekend. THREE. Talk about performance anxiety.
CC is throwing a dinner party this weekend to celebrate SMF’s birthday. I’m bringing baklava, which I will not be making myself. I’m considering telling people I did, though. (They would never believe me. I never bake.)
I got to drive a few hours away and hang out with a fun friend and her partner. So much good conversation and giggles and cuddling and happy sexy time! (More on that later as well. I’m still sorting through some thoughts.)
I want to write more. I have felt a little self-conscious lately, as my important people read my blog, as well as a few others in my extended network. It’s been dicey, with the recent difficulties between SMF and Mrs. A, and the previous stresses between myself and Mrs. A. I don’t think I want to share too much, but I do want to talk about some of the lessons learned, and how this has affected me on my blog, while still being respectful of everyone’s feelings and privacy.
Easy peasy, right?
I like having relationships. I like connection, and intimacy, and comfortably “fitting” with another person in some way. This includes my children, my work friends, my sisters, not just romantic relationships.
On my OkCupid profile, which really should be rewritten at some point, I say that I “hate” first dates. This is probably an understatement. I also say that I’d just like to be teleported into Date Three, and that would be just fine, thank you very much. Unfortunately, nobody has found a way to do that for me yet. Both the Hippie and the Reporter kind of dance around me, saying hello, making small talk, confusing the hell out of me. I told my sweet friend Amy this week, that I’m not in any mood to spoon feed Reporter my awesomeness.
I was sort of kidding. But mostly not.
I’m too old for this. I want sincere, honest, open people who know what they want. I don’t want to make small talk forever! Tell me what you want. You want a casual twice a month lunch and afternoon sex date? Let’s negotiate. You want a lust filled, mad love affair? Let’s talk. You want to explore a deep emotional connection? Tell me more. Do you want a chat buddy? Meh.
I’m a busy, busy girl…
~Job interview was good, nerve-wracking. Haven’t heard anything, and I have no gut feeling one way or the other as to whether or not a job offer is forthcoming.
~I am having some wanderlust. I want new places,new things to look at, new people to watch.
~I paid off my car this month. Friday it wouldn’t start. It remains in the parking lot of Old Navy, until tomorrow when I can get it towed to the mechanic.
~I’m idly wondering why Reporter hasn’t asked me out again, though he has still been in contact.
~I am having some angst about our local poly community, which is completely tied up in the kink community, and, in addition, has a big rift down the middle, which in a large city wouldn’t be such a big deal, but in a tiny place like this, means everyone knows EVERYONE.
~Special Man has things going on, in his family, and in his other relationships that leave me at a loss. I don’t want to hover, or smother him, but I want him to feel supported. I want to be a good friend, and a good partner, but the golden rule doesn’t always apply to relationships when needs can vary so greatly from person to person. If I’m struggling, I generally want to talk. And talk. Until I get it all out and can make a little peace. Therefore, the first kind of support I think to give, is to listen, and to encourage conversation. Except I don’t think that’s his coping mechanism. I think he internalizes and works things out in his head. Quietly. So then I feel kind of helpless, like there’s nothing for me to DO. I’m working on it. I think he knows I’m here. I check in with him, but I don’t know what else to do.
~I feel good about most things. And if I don’t feel good about everything, that’s okay too. I feel optimistic. I feel good about myself, and there’s not much more that I can ask for.
I have a job interview in the morning.
It’s a completely new area for me. I’ve been in labor and delivery for almost nine years, and the idea of doing something new is terrifying and exciting. I don’t know if this is something that will work for me, but I am happy to have something new to consider. I can’t wait for tomorrow. It feels like…something good.
Tonight I took the kids out to dinner, and we invited CC and Special Man to join us, and it was good and fun, and the word I keep coming back to: easy. “Easy” seems to be my new gold standard. Maybe it’s because so many things have been hard lately, I am acutely aware of how happy I feel when things are NOT hard.
DInner was easy. We ate and laughed. The kids were not perfect, the food was fun, (cotton candy at a Chinese buffet…why yes!) Everyone was happy.
It wasn’t until we got home that Leo fell apart. It’s been weeks of outbursts, and meltdowns, tears and arguments. It’s so uncharacteristic, and such a drastic difference, that I’m at a loss as to how to handle it. I’m frustrated, he’s frustrated. He’s eleven, he’s missed a lot of school, had a major surgery, and his father died. My heart hurts for him. It’s been a struggle for me, and I’m a grown-up, so how is a child supposed to figure it out?
I’m making an appointment for him to see my counselor, and he had some blood drawn today, to make sure his labs are good post surgery, just in case there’s something physical going on too. I’m doing everything I can think of.
Being a parent is hard, ya’ll.
I had a date.
It was nice. I think there will likely be another date. His official blog name is Reporter.
I think I scare Reporter a little. I don’t think he’s shy, really, but I do think he’s reserved. He seems open-minded and kind. He thinks I’m interesting and different. (I think I’m a little boring, but whatever.)
I am going to be teaching a couple of classes this June at the Atlanta Poly Weekend and I’m so excited! I’m going to be going on my own, and I was a little nervous about that at first, but now I kind of think it will be awesome.
I’m feeling good. I have things to write about and things to look forward to.
And I even got my taxes done last week.
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