Poly Nirvana

Love, Life and Rational Polyamory


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~Complicated~

Sometimes, I’m tired of how complicated polyamory is.  I get tired of talking about it, thinking about it, reading about it.

I understand this is ironic, considering that I’ve spent the last few years, talking about poly, thinking about poly, and writing about poly for goodness sake.

I don’t wanna have to think so much about scheduling, and jealousy, and societal norms.

Waah.

Actually, I think I’m just in a cycle right now, where things are piling up on me, and I long for something, anything, to be easy.  Rote, if you will.  I think I miss that security.

I think I miss the mind numbing knowledge of exactly how I was “supposed” to act when I was a young, married,monogamous, religious, housewife.  I wouldn’t change anything.  But yeah.  I think I miss not having to think so much.

Maybe I should take a nap.


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~Community~

I go back and forth about the poly community.

Let’s backtrack.  There’s not much of a poly community here.  It’s a small-ish, conservative, fairly religious area.  Polyamory is still considered immoral by a lot of people, even if they aren’t religious at all.  I wasn’t out as poly for a long time, and now, though I’m mostly out, it’s a quiet “out”.  My friends and family know my partner is married, and that his wife is actively supportive.  They know I’m non-monogamous.  Sometimes I think it makes a couple of them uncomfortable, but I haven’t had anyone aggressively confront me with negativity, or drop me as a friend (or as a sister, or as a daughter.)

This is why community is so important to me.

I want to be around people who embrace my choices.  Not simply tolerate them.

I don’t consider myself a poly activist, but since I WANT community, I have to go out and pretend to be one.  Except I’m kind of shy.  (Also, sometimes people annoy me and I just want to stay in bed.)  What I really need is a fairy godmother who will conjure me a fully functioning polyamorous community, complete with established events and nice people.

Ugh.

So tonight, I was Googling “polyamory community”, in an attempt to find an article that I could share in my (very small) local super secret Facebook group, about how to build a community.  I want people to get proactive with networking and socializing, so that I can, selfishly, have my dream community.

I didn’t really find an appropriate article.  So I’m writing instead.

Why community is important, by Me.

1)  We get to learn about ourselves, by learning about others.

2)  We get inspired and encouraged by the examples of other people.

3)  We get to see how other styles of relationships work.  (Or don’t work.)

4)  We get to have fun!  We get to socialize, and laugh, and eat, and do things!

5)  We get to create our own social norms, within our groups.

6)  We get to feel accepted.  We get to belong.  We get to love, and be loved.

Community.  I want it.

 

 

 


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~March~

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…

  • polyamory secondary gets scraps (ouch)
  • I am terrified of the game changer polyamory  (Right there with you, sometimes.)
  • compersion love hot poly  (Hey, as long as it’s HOT poly.)
  • polyamorous relationship bullshit  (haha)
  • strawberry pumpkin pet name (Aw.)
  • ginger girl finds succubus (Love it!)
  • professorpolyamory daughter (weird, right?)
  • he doesnt communicate oftenly. does my manfriend really love me? (Oftenly?? But YES to MANFRIEND!)
  • succubus wants my cock (awesome!)
  • emotion fucks thought  (Word.)
  • fuck you back  (How on earth did this search term get someone here??)
  • unicorn girl polyamorous  (Oh no you didn’t…)

I seriously love that this little space of mine is two years old.


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~Proven~

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…


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~Summary~

~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.


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~Me~

I have a job interview in the morning.

Hospice.

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.


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~Another~

I’m going out on a First Date on Saturday.

Maybe.

I get the distinct impression that this guy expects (anticipates?) first date sex. He seems nice.  He’s smart (I think), sort of funny (hard to say), super enthusiastic (like a lab puppy that I’m not quite sure I have the energy for).

He’s older, educated, used to be a reporter.  The Reporter found me on OkCupid; there’s been chatting, not much else.  He doesn’t even have my number.

I was also propositioned by two men today, and called a sarcastic bitch by another.  All on the lovely internet.

I’m too shy for this. Wait. No, I’m an introvert. That sounds much cooler.

Last night I had a quick dinner with Special Man at Whole Foods.  He invited CC along, after her dinner date canceled on her.  It was good, comfortable, easy.  We’ve earned it.  I sat there, very grateful in that moment.  We made plans for two weeks out for games and tacos with kids and family.

Some days I wonder if I should just be happy with what I have. Just be fucking happy.


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~Flight~

Wendover, Nevada.

Oh my goodness: A thirty eight minute flight on a plane which was filled with excited and chatty senior citizens.  Special Man Friend found a dirt cheap weekend package, and apparently it’s very popular with the over 65 crowd.  It’s been a good giggle. (I know I’m no spring chicken.  But come on!  I’ve got fifteen years until I’m even sixty!)

We are here until tomorrow.  It’s been good for me I think.  Mostly the sleep.  SMF played poker last night, and I slept from 8:30 on.

Wait.  Maybe I am ready to be part of the Senior’s Fun Tour.  Darn.

SMF saw Mrs. A several times in the last week.  It was hard for me.  I hate that it’s hard for me.  I am trying to be gentle with myself. I have been able to relax more about his weekly date with her.  But midway through his third time seeing her in a week, I just had reached some kind of critical mass.  It doesn’t matter how secure I am in the fact that he loves me.  It doesn’t matter how reassuring he is.  It doesn’t matter how many self-love techniques I use, or poly books I read.

I am a poly girl, with a mono- minded heart. I work hard to be happy.  I am loved, and I know that SMF will be there for me, whatever I need.  But man, it’s hard sometimes. I  am not sure how to navigate this specific issue. In three and a half years with him, I haven’t ever had to deal with him having three dates with someone else in a single week.  It sounds silly when I type it out, but it is not silly. I am a good person with real feelings.  I have to forgive myself for struggling, because the last thing I need is to be mad at myself for having feelings.

So do I suck it up and deal?  Do I ask him to slow down a little for my sanity?  Do I just wait and see if it happens again?  I think this week may have been a fluke, but I was completely blindsided by the intensity of my discomfort.  CC is out of town, and there has been so much going on the last few weeks, that date nights have been moved around and his time with Mrs. A has been inconsistent.  I tell myself that he has consistently been there for me, and I am not losing time with him.

But there’s still part of me that is uncomfortable.  I think I’m afraid.  Afraid that he doesn’t have room for all three of us, and that I will get the proverbial boot. Afraid that she is cuter, funner (funner is totally a word), thinner, newer, smiley-er, easier, simpler, sexier… happier.     And who wouldn’t want to be around someone who was happy.

Things have been really heavy lately.  Special Man has not once, batted an eye about taking on what he can in an effort to support me, and to support my kids. He is my best friend, and my biggest supporter. The bulk of my life falls on me, and he knows that.  But when he steals me away for a cup of coffee, or lets me cry while he holds me, or takes the kids to the library he gives me the chance to breathe.  The chance to regroup.  The chance to find some peace again.  He honors his commitment to me.

That’s what my logic tells me.  I wish my little emotional heart would listen to my amazingly logical brain.  Damn heart.

I’m sitting on the fringes of a noisy, smokey casino, with a very bad cup of coffee, while he upstairs in our room, stealing a nap for an hour.  (The biggest shock to my system on this little trip has been the smoke filled casinos. In Idaho, you can’t smoke in public places unless you’re in a designated smoking area, so this level of second hand smoke is making me nuts!)

Tomorrow we head home.  I feel good.  I had a doctor’s appointment a few days ago (a follow up for my cancer history)  and she found a few things in my bloodwork that we are hopeful will be able to be corrected with changes in medication and , supplements and I’m making a six week recovery plan to deal with the physical and emotional aftermath of the last few months.

I feel positive.  I’m looking forward.


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~Onward~

Sometimes a really horrible thing can quickly shift your focus.  Reorder your priorities.  Give you some clarity.

I’ve applied for a new job with a local hospice.  I’ve made some peace with Mrs. A.  I’m determined to love my people and let myself be loved.

I’m also not sleeping well.  I dream all night, every night, and while they are not classic nightmares with monsters and dark threats, they are very busy and stressful dreams that startle me awake with a pounding heart and a racing mind.  I dreamed I found a suicide note, taped inside a yellow freezer.  The note was black, the writing was white.  It was from my exhusband, and I have no idea what the words said.  But my mind keeps turning the dream over and over in my mind.  I am purging, processing.  It is exhausting.

On Thursday Special Man is taking me away for the weekend.  Just a border town, a big hotel casino. I have naps planned.  Naps and reading.  Food and sex and then, more naps.  People watching with a virgin drink in front of me.  I am so excited.

This past Sunday, Special Man and CC came for brunch.  We made it a Valentine’s theme, and yes, I know it’s still January, but I wanted to enjoy some red and pink paper crafts and do a little holiday decorating, and kids love themes, so I bought paper and glue and stickers and we cut and pasted and made a big mess after we ate waffles and strawberries with pink whipped cream.  It was great, it was easy, and it was enjoyable.  We plan to try and do brunch monthly, and I am looking forward to it.  Relationships take effort and nurturing.  I want the kids to be comfortable with all of us together, just as much as I want to be comfortable myself.

I feel something akin to separation anxiety from SMF this past week.  I tell myself it’s understandable, he says the same thing, considering the intensity of recent events.  I fear that I am clingy.  I fear that I will suffocate him with the sheer volume of need for him that I feel right now.

People leave.  People leave, and then life continues on.  I feel so…small.  That’s it.  I just feel small right now.


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~Love~

I told him once, that I loved him desperately.  He replied that he did not love me with a modifier like desperately.

I was crushed.

I get it now.  If desperately was truly how I felt then, it isn’t how I feel now.  The adjectives I feel on this day, in this minute, are infinitely more interesting and accurate.  I love him intensely, solidly, joyfully.  I love him effortlessly.  Easily.  I love him with my body, and I love him with my heart.  I love him for who he is, and I love him for who he isn’t.  I love him with a wholeness that I haven’t felt with anyone else.

Special Man Friend came to me last weekend, within a couple of hours of hearing of my ex-husband’s suicide.  He came and he didn’t leave.  He kept me together, so I could keep my children together.  Every minute, of that weekend, he loved me, exactly how I needed to be loved. He was present, available, and emotionally connected.  He fed me coffee, and held my hand, and talked me through the shock, which lasted nearly two days. He offered to drive us to the funeral.  He loved and listened to my kids. I saw his almost-tears, when Georgia said to me, “Mom, don’t get mental illness and kill yourself, ok?” and then turned to him and said, “You either.”

He loves me.  All of me.  In the aftermath of the first day, as I drifted to an exhausted and fuzzy half sleep, I said to him, “I love you, Dave.” 

Which, is not his name.  It is the name of the man I loved, in another life, so different and long ago from this life, that I barely think of it.  In the rare times that I do think of him, I count myself lucky to have had the strength to leave him and make a new, better, happier, safer life.  But then I said to SMF, “I love you, Dave.” 

I was mortified.  I tried to apologize.  I told myself, in my exhaustion, that this was unforgivable.

“No”, he said, with all the love for me in his voice that could ever possibly be there. “No. It’s okay. It’s time to sleep.”

And he curled around me, and loved me as I finally slept.