I’m quite positive that there’s no way to avoid negativity.

I’m a worrier.  Conflict makes me sick to my stomach, and awkwardness is worse.  You know the kind of awkwardness I mean, when people are trying to be civil but everyone feels tongue-tied and is afraid to speak.

SMF and Mrs. A are both hurt and angry, and really, I should just let them have at it, but it affects me too.  It affects what I’m trying to do with my local poly network.  It seems nobody involved with either camp, (his, or hers) is comfortable, or at least nobody has found a neutral place yet.  He has let a lot of it go, but when you live in such a small place like we do, and the poly community is even smaller, there’s all these cross relationships and friendships, and I just want everyone to be okay.

I’m certainly not neutral in my opinions, but I can usually let people live their lives as long as I don’t have to be adversely affected.

I’m positive that I need to step back, and figure out why I’m so stressed out about the two of them having such an ugly split.

I’m positive that our first monthly poly discussion group this week will be really interesting, either because people will stay away, or they won’t.

I’m looking forward to Atlanta Poly Weekend.  I’m going to be all by myself, and that’s kind of exciting and also kind of scary.  I’m sort of shy, unless I’m not. It takes a lot of effort for me to be around people I don’t know, but it’s also a little fun.

I’m complicated.

Today I had a house full of poly people for a waffle brunch. Half of them I had never met.  It went really well.

I was relieved that Mrs. A didn’t come.  She and Special Man Friend have been broken up almost a month.  Almost.  Actually, she broke up with him, by text.  By text, and then declined to speak to him for weeks. Now, I’d like to say I’m not taking sides, but of COURSE I’m taking sides.  He’s my important person.  Still, even if I didn’t know him, I’d think it was pretty cruel to break up with someone out of the blue, via text and then refuse to talk about it.  And that’s my unfiltered train of thought right now.  I’m glad she didn’t come.  Maybe we can be friends someday, but right now everyone is uncomfortable and awkward.

On top of that, I’m protective and a little angry.  I’m a little angry with her, and I’m even still a little angry with SMF.  It’s mostly resolved, and I wish I was self aware enough to explain why I feel that way, but I don’t really understand it.  It might be all those times he said “trust me”, when I was convinced this relationship would not end well, for anyone.  I don’t know exactly.  But I’m working through it.

Fifteen minutes after my house cleared after brunch, CC got a call from many states away, that her grandmother had just passed away.  Her tears felt like family.  Handing her paper and a pen so she could write things down felt like a thing that family does..  I don’t know how to describe it.  It felt like connection.  And I recognized it.

This will be a tough week.  It’s the third week of my new job, and it’s one of the hardest and most overwhelming things I’ve ever done.  It’s going to be good. I know it is.

It just isn’t very good yet.

I was date raped.

I told myself, long ago, that I would not qualify the rape, as a date rape.  Rape is rape, and somehow, whenever I say date rape, I have a vague feeling that I’m apologizing for myself, for my part, for being in that place, with that man, who said he loved me as he hurt me.

Last night, in the dark. I was with a man who really does love me, and who would never hurt me. I don’t know what it was that made me fall apart.  I thought about it for a long time afterwards.  Was it a sound?  A smell?  Did I move, or speak in a way that triggered a body memory?  Did he?  In the moment, I felt panic.  I didn’t know why.  I felt my body surge, with a fight or flight response.  I didn’t think of that other man.  I only knew I was falling apart. My body was terrified, and my brain couldn’t figure out why.  I couldn’t catch my breath, I cried hot tears.

Special Man Friend curled around me and covered my face with kisses.  He didn’t speak.  He didn’t move.  He just waited until I came back.  I don’t understand what happened, but it’s still bothering me tonight. The panic and fear I felt tasted vaguely like the rape, but there was no conscious feeling of being in danger, or of being hurt. It didn’t seem like anything I’ve ever read about PTSD. I wasn’t having memories, but I was triggered.

I don’t know.

It’s not something I’ve really talked about, or even thought about until this last year.

Why now?.