Conflict is painful.
Everyone thinks they are right. Nobody wants to be wrong. If you can get to a point that you can even admit that maybe you were wrong, you certainly weren’t that wrong, and there was a very good reason for what you did, or what you said, or how you acted.
I can’t stand it.
It makes my stomach hurt. It makes my eyes ache and my brain noisy. I can’t sleep.
There’s a rift among my little poly constellation. I’m involved, and I’m not. I feel like everything is spiraling wildly off into space and nothing will ever be the same. We don’t exist in a vacuum. All our individual relationships, romantic or otherwise, make up this larger creature that becomes maimed when conflict finds parts of it. I’m trying so hard to know what to do, what to say. Right now I’m frozen, as I watch my people move farther and farther away from one another.
One of my favorite things about poly is the idea that we can be close to our partners, and our metamours, and their partners. There’s a secret part of me that would have fit right into a commune in the 1960’s. I adore the concept of the extended poly network. The chosen family. The clan.
I can’t talk about all of it. But it is heavy on my mind, and my heart hurts. I can’t take sides, except for my own. I can’t talk to any of my people. It’s a lonely place to be. Events are being cancelled because this person can’t be around that person, or these people are mad at those other ones. I’m stuck in the midst of it. And I want out.
People aren’t disposable. People shouldn’t be disposable.