I should perhaps preface this with the acknowledgement of the fact that I am currently very much in the PMDD place. My fuse is short right now, I admit it.
Sometimes, though, the anger is righteous even when I’m quick to reach it. And I believe now is one of those times.
Polyamory is wonderful, I choose it every day and I have no doubt that I always will. I am a person with a heart full of love and a mind to share it. Living life this way is incredibly rewarding for me, and I have never felt more romantically fulfilled than I did this year with my three partners (when I still had three partners).
Polyamory is also the most difficult choice I have ever made. There is nothing easy about it. I don’t just roam around fucking anyone and everyone, free of commitment or consequence. I have nurtured and maintained my committed relationships in ways that, at times, are completely fucking exhausting. It is a constant exercise in plate-spinning. And sometimes all of your relationships face enormous, scary challenges at the same time.
As you know, my relationship with T ended recently. The sense of heartbreak and loss has been excruciating. I poured so much into that relationship, knowing he was new to poly I took extra care to ensure that he felt loved, appreciated, and wanted. I spent more time with him than either of my other partners – through circumstance more than intent. Since he broke up with me, we have continued to talk most days (albeit less than before) and spend time together (albeit less than before). It’s been a real challenge. I have tried so hard to let go of the idea of us working things out. He has made it clear that that is not what he wants.
I go through phases that feel a lot like the stages of grief. There has been despair, bargaining, denial, anger, and even some acceptance. But the process is not linear. I cycle through each one, not knowing which one I’ll reach next. Sometimes multiple times in a day. Sometimes multiple times in an hour.
We went out tonight, we had fun, like we always do. The event we were attending ended somewhat early, but he didn’t want to hit another bar. I suggested we go back to his house and watch a documentary we had talked about seeing together. So, we did. Until we got back to the house, we’d been having a blast. Talking, laughing, some flirting but nothing major.
I went to the bathroom, and noticed my toothbrush wasn’t on the sink anymore. It was in the trash. That hurt. It wasn’t a surprise, but it hurt. I felt my eyes start to sting, but I swallowed it. We started watching the show. He was on his phone, quiet, distant. Eventually I asked if he was OK. He said he was. I asked if he was tired. He said he was. I asked if he wanted me to leave. He said ‘Whatevs’. I felt instant rage. I picked up my bag, stood up, said goodbye to the dog, hugged T goodbye and walked out the door. I wanted to cry again, but I swallowed it.
I value my time. I want to spend it with people who see the value when I spend it with them. Tonight I didn’t feel valued. I felt like an imposition. I did not have the patience or requisite sense of inner-calm to address it in that moment, so I left. We’re not together anymore, there’s absolutely no sense in starting an argument or a discussion. It would be inconsequential at this point.
Meanwhile, my relationship with B is facing some real challenges. He has a 13 year old kid, and he has been wanting to introduce me to that kid. He wanted to introduce me truthfully, as his partner for the last 16 months. His partner who is also married to someone else. He wanted to be honest and open with his kid about polyamory (with many disclaimers about how difficult it is, how it’s not for the faint-hearted or emotionally underdeveloped, etc.).
He told the child’s mother of this intention. And she went nuclear.
The dream was that I could meet and get to know this kid. Build a rapport with them. Get to know them. Be part of their family unit. Go on trips, play games, cook, all the shit.
Instead, B’s former wife threatened court action to challenge his parental rights if he so much as mentions my name. And we live in Oklahoma. That is not a fight he would win, even if he could afford to fight it.
Of course, we are both devastated. We had been so excited to build this version of our future, and now it doesn’t exist. Instead we are looking at five years of keeping my existence a secret from the person he most wants to tell. Obviously we would never do anything that would jeopardize his access to his child, but we can still be sad/mad about it.
I am so tired of feeling like my best isn’t good enough. Will never be enough.
When I left T’s house tonight it was barely 10pm. I called my friend Bethany, she was watching our friend’s band play a show – something I had already been toying with the idea of doing – and I asked if I could join her. Of course, as someone who values my time, she said yes. So, I went. And it was great. I got a bunch of shit off my chest and I felt better for it. We had a drink, talked, laughed, enjoyed ourselves. I’m glad I called her.
I can’t wait to start feeling like myself again. For this rage to dissipate. For my heart to begin healing. And, in time, to fall in love again. As many times as it takes.
Fat and Slutty 