Revisiting D

I booked a counselor’s appointment last week when I was blindsided by the crushing emotion that prevented me from being functional.  Well, the counselor’s appointment did exactly what it should.  I had to dig in the dark corners and expose them and identify them and try to deal with them, or at least come up with a plan.  I realized how incredibly bizarre my life has been this last 6 to 9 months.  And how it makes sense that I wouldn’t be able to deal with all the bad that has happened and that my subconscious would wait until now to let me deal with it.  And how amazing my brain is for allowing me to navigate all that insanity for so long without ever wavering in my commitment to my choices and my happiness.  In fact, this one truth is what has helped me cope more than anything.

I talked with the counselor about everything.  The deaths of my grandparents, my separation, the horrible way in which D broke up with me and my ongoing sadness and confusion associated with it, my sister and her crazy, my dad’s diagnosis and the fact that he’s spending so much time with my sister that he’s stopped communicating with me too, and W and the fact that I had the lovely opportunity to listen to a pocket dial conversation between W and F and had an absolute confirmation of the fact that she is the instigator of so much anger.

Yes, despite saying I wasn’t going to write about D any more, I have decided that I have to again.  Since I am both a woman, and this is my space, I get to change my mind if I want to. One of the things that I talked about with my counselor is that not understanding is really difficult for me.  The sudden change, the way he broke up with me, the absence of him in my life when there are still so many things I think of sharing with him on a daily basis and then realize he’s not actually part of my life anymore.  It’s like my brain is dividing by zero and this unhealthy cycle of misunderstanding isn’t working for me.  

This is because I’m a logical and rational person. If I understand something, I can accept it.  I can’t understand this.  She made the point that many people get stuck in the loop I’m in.  They can’t get past an event because they can’t wrap their brain around what happened.  She said that maybe I should create my own narrative, my own story, and make it true in my head to help me accept it.  I said I was having a hard time because I don’t want to reframe our relationship. I want to remember it for how awesome and fun it was.  She made the very cogent point that I can make up a story that forgives him, recognizes that he may have misunderstood something, and still makes sense to me.  Of course, my brain went crazy with possible scenarios, from the logical to the bizarre.  Here’s a few I came up with:

  1. First off, I really don’t want to believe he is fallible. That he could make a mistake.  Our relationship was *really* that good in my eyes.  I really love(d) him that much. So, the first scenario is probably the most forgiving to him.  Because it’s completely outside the realm of reality.  He was abducted by aliens.  Not in the “beem me up” type of abduction scenario, but more of the Stephanie Meyer “The Host” scenario. (Yes, she wrote another book, it was much better than the Twilight series, even though her grammar was appalling).  Where an alien being overtook his body and was acting as him, making decisions for him, running his life, without actually making a whole lot of sense.  Said alien clearly installed itself into his body, couldn’t compute all the “logic” it had learned about our species, and decided to cut out the non-childbearing character.  It was intelligent about the dumping too, because it didn’t have to face me, who knew that face and it’s expressions well, and it did it in such a way that if we ever got back in contact, I would forever doubt him.
  2. He’s depressed and overwhelmed.  He had been feeling more “down” off and on since January.  He always brushed it off as something he would get past, but I’m not so sure that’s the case.  The overwhelmed comes from the external forces – the excessive social plans, frequently forgetting about things and rushing last minute, work getting busy, not being completely professionally fulfilled, and hardly having enough time to finish one major renovation project and taking on a second equally large scale project, on top of the normal daily life stuff, which includes a wife and kids and all the other adult responsibilities that he naturally took on.  When he looked at his life and all those things he had non-negotiable obligations to, he naturally looked over his schedule and looked for the point of weakness, the one priority that could be discarded without affecting the other things in his life.  That was me.  He didn’t really not love me, or not want to be with me, he just felt like he had to, when there were other things that he needed to get done that were stressing him out. So, I felt like an obligation to him and for some reason, that obligation was too much pressure to value me enough to try to find a way to work around it. What’s unfortunate is that I would have gladly given him more time to get what he needed done. Fuck, I would have had every date be one where I was helping him get the stuff done.  I would have understood.  I would have moved mountains to make it work.  
  3. He felt he had to fulfill a support role in my life with the stress I was going through, and that’s where the obligation set in.  He could have just talked to me.  I would have happily talked to other people about my stress if it was too much for him.  I feel like sharing with him brought him down and I didn’t realize it.  That my sharing of the daily ridiculous that was the early days of my separation wasn’t the same to him as it was to me.  He felt stressed by it, while I was just sharing it.  He didn’t need to internalize it or even listen to it.  I could have taken it elsewhere.  He just needed to say it was too much.  And that he misjudged me and didn’t think he could ask me to stop.

One of #2 or #3 are the most likely scenario, although a combination of the two is also not unlikely.  I seriously wish I was lame enough to believe in aliens, because #1 would be so much more comforting.  There are a few more less generous scenarios that have gone through my head, but the reality is that I don’t believe that he is a bad person at all, so I can’t go there.  I just can’t, even when I was at my angriest, which I certainly am not now.

I think about D less every day.  But I still think about him often.  When I’m alone, when I’m not occupied by my million responsibilities, he slips into my thoughts.  My kids took it really hard when I told them that he wouldn’t be coming to visit anymore, and then he didn’t come up anymore.  I had hoped that he was gone from their reality, when in the last two days two of them brought him up.  One, my 3-year-old, who loved him most, asked if he was coming to visit last night, and the 7-year-old asked me to do some internet searches she’d done with him so we could laugh and learn about the same thing.  The hurt that I felt early on when they brought him up wasn’t present, but it wasn’t completely absent either.  

I’ve been confiding in some close friends about the hard time I’m having.  About the tears and the sadness and the hurt.  While I think I’m coming out the other side of this sadness now, there was a point where I was concerned that I was slipping into depression again.  So I asked them what they thought.  How I would know for sure.  They responded in so many of the ways I needed. Reassured me that my feelings were normal, that the fact that I was concerned I was depressed again probably meant I wasn’t, and that with all I’ve been through, being sad was a very normal, natural emotion.  It was amazing. And it hurt at the same time.  They focused on my relationship with F.  How I would be mourning its loss, and the loss of that love, and the awful that’s happening there.  Don’t get me wrong, he drives me fucking crazy, but that’s not it at all. It made me sad that my best friends didn’t recognize, understand, or acknowledge that the hurt for me is coming from the break up with D, that to them, this relationship, that was so very important to me, is insignificant.  It’s like the few pictures I have of us together are the only proof that we were once were a couple. That we once loved each other.  That we were something that really truly mattered, that was amazing, and real, and powerful, and should have lasted.  Because to them, my hurt is coming from my separation from F, because he was around for 14 years.  But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I would love, more than anything, to hear what it really was that led him to send that email over a month ago.  I would love to hear from him why he threw me away like garbage.  I would love to see him again and hug him and get lost in his embrace.  He always smelled amazing and had a way of moving in for a kiss that made me feel like he was bracing for the earth to open with the connection that was about to happen. The truth is, although it’s not as acute and painful and awful as it was a month ago, I miss him.  I would give so much to stop missing him and just be able to look back and enjoy the memories of our time together fondly without feeling.  But the truth is, I’m still having a hard time with the fact that he’s no longer a part of my life.  Things happen that I want so much to share with him and then I remember that that isn’t who we are anymore.  And my heart breaks again; remembering that he isn’t part of my life anymore hurts. Every time.

 

***I’ve spend 6 days writing this post.  I feel weak, and vulnerable, and lame for still feeling so much for D.  I feel like I shouldn’t feel these things. Like I shouldn’t hurt, or need comfort, or want someone to hold me while I mourn and grieve and cry and rage.  I’ve put on a brave face for over four weeks.  The fact is, I’m not brave, or strong, or resilient just now.  I’m hurting and weak and I’m also brave and strong and resilient.  Strength comes with hurt.  Right now, I’m getting stronger.***    

 

 

 

 

 

Insert creative title here

After writing my last post, I felt much better.  It was actually quite a remarkable transformation, apparently I needed to get my feelings out in a coherent(ish) way.  I was supposed to have a date yesterday, but plans fell through when he wasn’t feeling well.  So we’re on for next week.  Although at the rate we’re going, first me cancelling, then him cancelling, we may never meet.  So, I informed A that I was available for drinks again, and headed off for ramen as comfort food and then back to the river valley to feed the mosquitoes and listen to an audiobook that had been given to me by a friend.  I was thoroughly enjoying said audiobook when A texted to say he could meet for drinks.  Pleasantly surprised, I hoofed it back to my car and met him at one of the places we frequent.  Cue complete relaxation.  I’m not sure how it happens, we’re both a bucket of stress lately, but three hours later, and just random conversation that consisted mostly of updating each other on life, I left (after getting the most amazing hug) feeling completely reset.  Ready to conquer the world again.  Which is good, because when you have world-conquering plans, you need to be ready for it.

Today was a weird day. I volunteered in my daughter’s class this morning and had a blast.  It was so much fun.  Then home to nap and off to my day job for a meeting.  I had changed a lot of things while one of my coworkers was on maternity leave and I wanted to run the changes past her.  So I filled her in on everything I did, and we had a great talk.  She was seriously impressed with the changes I made and told me that when I was hired, the job I just did was exactly what she was envisioning.  It was one of those moments complete with professional fulfillment. I had worked hard, done a good job, and not only was she OK with it, she was thrilled with the hard work I had done.  It was awesome to be appreciated and acknowledged.

I have slowly told people at work that I have separated from F.  One of my favourite coworkers, who frequently comes into my office to show me something cool or talk to me about something funny came by today.  He asked me how things were going with F.  Then he asked me how I knew it was time to ask for a separation.  So I told him some of my story, although a very abridged version, and he sat down and dumped his issues on me.  It was amazing to be a source of support for someone who is going through so much of what I have been through.  He told me that he’s pretty unhappy in his relationship, and he realized that he has to tell his wife, and he doesn’t know how it’s going to go.  It ended with me offering him a hug and wishing him good luck, but it felt pretty damn good that he felt comfortable coming to me.

Yesterday, I read this cool article about a woman who took control of her sexuality, through “wild sexual exploration”, and how embracing her needs and wants, communicating them, asking for what she desired, and being true to herself while still being challenging and sometimes difficult, led to a transformation in her outside the bedroom.  She became more likely to ask for what she needed in her professional life.  Turned down opportunities that didn’t support her goals or add value to her life.  She took on jobs that valued her education and professional experience.  She made decisions throughout every aspect of her life that honoured herself.  She stopped sacrificing herself for the selfishness of others.  She lived a life of authenticity and purpose.  She is happy.

As I read it, while the central tenet of her article was mostly dissimilar to the course my journey has taken, many of the prevailing themes resonated with me. Making the decision to shed cultural norms, making decisions for myself with disregard for societal pressures and the years of indoctrination that I have received, and living authentically, and sometimes selfishly, by making decisions that are the best for me, when others would have me choose otherwise.    She wrote about it being difficult to shed the indoctrination and identify for herself what she believed and acting on those beliefs without the internalization of cultural norms like slut-shaming, misogyny, and her own ingrained judgements hit home for me.  I’ve been pretty open with my acceptance of my polyamorous nature.  But it hasn’t been without judgement of others, but also judgement of myself, by myself.  Part of this is directly entwined with the sexual aspects of my new relationships and the fact that I both enjoy having sex more and asking for what I desire has become a norm, and I have embraced aspects of bdsm, but also that I have multiple partners.  Growing up in a mononormative culture means that I had to shed my beliefs to be true to myself.  Shedding my beliefs about what I should be doing and how I should be behaving meant thinking deeply about my feelings about others and how they act.  Its part of the realization that I truly believe that people should be able to live their lives sexually free, within the boundaries they provide, with no judgement from or for other people.  The things that rock my world are not necessarily going to be your type of storm, nor mine yours.  But as long as you are getting what you need somewhere, I’m going to be happy that you are sexually fulfilled and living a life true to yourself.  

Through acknowledging who I am and asking for what I need in one aspect of my life, polyamory, I gained a momentum that I didn’t really understand.  I started trying new things – my 40 things before 40 was one example.  I started taking charge of my life more. I was already strong and independent.  But I became strong and independent and unstoppable.  In all my relationships, I asked for what I needed.  I started expecting the respect I hadn’t been getting automatically.  It’s part of the reason why I’ve had to redefine boundaries with my sister, father, and F.  It’s why I’ve taken charge of so many aspects of my career.  It’s part of why I’ve found my voice in my relationships, both clothed and unclothed. I’ve started insisting that everyone in my life honours who I’ve chosen to be.

What does this all mean to me?  It means I’m happy.  Not “life is easy and everything is coming up roses” happy, but happy knowing that I am living my life the way I have chosen.  That my decisions and actions and interactions are my own choice. That I’m doing the right thing for myself and my family and taking control of my life means that the challenges I face are mine, the victories are mine, the sorrows are mine, and I can learn, love, laugh, cry, fail, and succeed knowing that I’ve made the best decision for myself by acknowledging myself and honouring myself.  

 

Broken

The last week has been amazing in so many ways.  Things are falling into place.  F and I are working together really well.  Our bi-weekly finance discussion went so smoothly this week that we ended up thanking each other for working as a team and cooperating so well.  We laughed about things our crazy kids did.  I offered to do some things for him, he for me.  It was so….functional.  

My job is gearing down for the summer.  This is awesome, because it has been, at times, rather insane, with long days and intense work stresses.  I love my job, but even a job I love gets overwhelming with pressure sometimes.  I  also had a great weekend with so many friends around me that love me.

So everything is shiny and beautiful and perfect, right?

No.

I’ve been really down the last couple of days.  This is completely unlike me. I’m normally a super positive person.  I usually have to focus on something super sad to even cry when I want to.  (Unless I’m angry, I can cry very easily when pissed off).  Yesterday, for unknown reasons, my date ghosted and I ended up alone in the evening.  This isn’t that big of a deal. I like being alone with myself.  I’m great company for myself.  But the overwhelming sadness just wasn’t going away.  I asked A to go out for a drink, but he was busy.  This isn’t surprising, he’s always busy these days, and I’m trying to be cognizant of exactly how much I’m asking of him, which in recent weeks has been more than he can give because I haven’t been coping with life that well. I know that sometimes I need to find my support elsewhere, and working out exactly what I need to do to get what I need and, truthfully, even recognizing what I need, is a challenge.  

So, since I was utterly alone last night, I headed into our gorgeous river valley to feed the mosquitoes go for a walk.  I decided I was going to focus on the super sad things that have happened in my life in the last 5 months, to see which one was the one that was trying to make itself known.  I had 2 grandparents die.  My dad was diagnosed with cancer.  My sister attacked me unfairly in a family text conversation and we haven’t talked since.  D broke up with me via email.  I asked F for a separation and we have had near endless conflict for about 9 months. I figured if I was sad, I probably had one or more of these things still to deal with. What this meant is that I was completely overrun with despair. I walked and walked and stifled tears the whole way.  I was feeling dejected and unloved and unwanted and weak and overwhelmingly hurt.  I can’t explain how bad I felt, I haven’t ever felt the way I did last night.  I got back to my car, sat in the driver’s seat and cried.  Full on sobbing, ugly tears, break-down cried.  It hurt in my heart and my stomach and my head.  I cried for probably a good 20 minutes until F texted me to ask me if I was coming home soon because he wanted to get to W’s house.  I figured if I sat there much longer, someone would call the cops because they would be concerned for my safety, thinking I was about to jump in the river or something.  So, I drove home with tears in my eyes, just hoping I could hold it together while I said goodbye to F so that I didn’t have to explain to him that I was broken but didn’t know why.  

Well, that didn’t work.  I walked in and he immediately asked me if I was OK.  I said I didn’t want to talk about it and stood their crying silently as he talked about the day he and the kids had.  He looked up and realized what was happening and stopped talking and offered me a hug.  I declined and he asked if I was sure.  I took the hug.  It was the first proper hug he’s given me since early February.  It wasn’t what I needed, but it helped. It got me out in the yard to do some work before I went to bed and helped redirect me.

I was chatting with X and K during the evening as they both asked how I was doing and I was honest.  X said he had been thinking that he wondered how I did it all, and he concluded that I am Wonder Woman.  K said that he didn’t know how I held up as long as I did and that I’m superhero strong and a real lioness.  In my weakest moment, two people who I care about deeply said something about me being so strong.  I felt so vulnerable and so broken.  I cried even more then, but it helped to realize that people who actually know me see me as a strong person, and that it was OK that I was sad.

I think what happened, or what is happening, is that life has calmed down.  I’m no longer running on adrenaline, putting metaphorical fires out, bouncing from one stressful life event to the next.  I don’t have constant conflict in my life.  I’m not busy like I was a couple months ago.  I’ve had sufficient, and even abundant, down-time lately.  Dealing with the stresses in my life, on top of parenting my children, maintaining my career, boyfriends, friendships, and family obligations has been overwhelming the past months, and I was just operating on autopilot, because I didn’t have the luxury of taking time to process.  I think my subconscious decided that now that I have time, it was OK for me to feel all the feelings.  All those feelings came out all at once last night.  I broke.

This is all OK. Actually normal.  Of course I couldn’t hold it all together.  Who could?  

My friend, the one who came for my birthday, when I posted about my crying in a group we are in together with four of our mutual friends, said: “ It’s normal to feel some sadness. While there are some great things happening in your life, there is also some not so great things happening in your life. Sometimes it’s great to have a good cry.”

Rock reforms with the pressure of water.  Water carves canyons and creates beautiful creations simply by running over it.  I’m hoping that’s what my tears are doing, helping me reform and create something beautiful.  

 

Comfort

This weekend marked the end of my 40th birthday celebrations.  I had a party on Saturday night, and about 30 friends attended.  It’s funny, because a few friends I’ve had forever, but the demographic of my circle has changed significantly since my 39th birthday, and definitely for the better.  There were people at my party that included roommates I had in my last year of high school and first year of college, people I went to grad school with and work with, people I met in moms’ groups when I was on maternity leave, a friend from when I lived in Europe, and then my now expanding group of poly and poly-friendly friends. And A, of course he was there!  

What was unique was that we all sat in a giant circle in my backyard and chatted. Everyone part of the same conversation. It was so cool.  No one splintered into groups of friends who knew each other, we all just jived.  It was so great.  There was much laughter and much joking and it was a really really fun time.

My good friend who lives a four hour plane ride away came out for the party. As is with all my best friends, we haven’t seen each other for years, have kept in contact on social media and the occasional private message, and the minute I picked her up at the airport, it was like we had never been apart.  It was so cool to see her just insert herself right into my groups as if she always belonged there. In particular, she and A got along famously.  It was the first time that I introduced A to many of my friends.  Unlike monogamous relationships, our time together is at a premium, so we rarely socialize with other people because it takes away from our alone time together.  What this means is that we’ve developed our close relationship in the near absence of any interaction as a couple with our friends. It’s an interesting phenomenon, actually, and one I hadn’t really thought of until this moment.  But what I really loved about it, is that A required no “babysitting”.  I spent 14 years with F, and he hated when I hosted parties or dinners, hated meeting people, and I had to spend a lot of time at his side to make sure he was OK.  It wasn’t at all shocking to me that A jumped right into the situation and socialized like a pro and made friends with everyone there, easily and simply.  I didn’t once think of checking on how he was doing and I didn’t need to.  It was awesome.  I think I might have to take him to more things, if he ever has more time to give, because I certainly don’t want to give up my alone time with him, but he is definitely a high-quality date, even with his clothes on.

It meant a lot to me that my friend and A got along so well.  I just told her I was poly about two months ago, and she’s been remarkably supportive from the first response.  But they laughed and joked and teased me the whole night and had a great time.  It’s amazing to me when two people I care about so deeply get along so well.  The next day, she and I laughed and shared stories and it was like she belongs here.  It felt like home.

At the end of the night of the party the remaining people sat around the fire in my backyard chatting.  There was a lot of joking and a lot of drinking.  But we sat there talking, and laughing, and being ridiculous as we do, and I reached over and grabbed A’s hand.  We sat and held hands and talked with all the other people there.  I realized how good and normal that felt.  I also realized we’d never just sat there holding hands and talking to other people before.  It was such a normal, comfortable thing to do.

I think that that is where we are.  We are a normal couple, within the context of our ridiculously abnormal lives, that are comfortable.  I guess five months later, we should be.  Comfortable is good.

Happy birthday to me

I had an amazing weekend.  On Friday, that cry was exactly what I needed.  That and chatting until wee hours of the morning with a couple of men.  That and two wonderful days in the sun with my kids. That and an amazing date with A on Saturday.  “Wow!” is all that needs to be said about that.

Today, I turned 40.  I’ve spent the last year completing a list of 40 new things before 40.  From embracing polyamory, to having sex with someone new, to buying lingerie, to getting a Brazilian wax, to throwing axes, to shooting guns, to getting in collision where we hit a moose, to making out in the back of a cop car, to taking art classes, to eating at a restaurant that I have wanted to eat at for years, to drinking a whole cup of coffee, to losing 200 lbs of disrespectful dead weight (F), to many other things, I did 40 things.

I completed my list last week.  It was a challenge to expose myself to new things for fun, that turned into a small series of changes that accumulated to make me a better, stronger, happier, more confident, and authentic person.  

This person I am now opened up OKC a week ago.  Today I had a coffee date. And it was nice.  We didn’t talk much online before the coffee, and it was really fun to just sit and chat and get to know each other a bit. The conversation flowed well and was easy and simple.  There will likely be a second date.  I have another first date next week, with a guy I’ve been talking a lot with.  I’m quite excited about it.

Life is moving forward in the most incredible ways.  Happy birthday to me.

Three things and done

The last time I talked about D, I ended by saying that the relationship was amazing, but the ending wasn’t.  As I’ve processed my heartache and come to a really good, logical place, one that prevents me from being angry at all and has me wondering if friendship will ever be a thing for us, I find myself thinking about the very best of the amazing parts of our relationship.  The things that when I think of, I’m still flooded with that amazing emotion that enveloped me in that moment.  Truthfully, there are so many good memories, it’s hard to narrow them down.  There were so many nights on the couch where we just held each other and watched a movie, running our hands over each other’s or running our hands through each other’s hair (or lack thereof).  There were so many lunches and suppers and drink dates where we sat and talked and held hands and just connected.  There were so many super fucking sexy times in bed.  I was trying to narrow it down to three.  Three memories that if I only had three to hold on to, what they would be.  It’s hard to do so.  By a narrow margin, these three won out.

  1. The Robbie Burns night when A goaded me into coming and D was so happy I was there.  The reaction on his face when he saw me.  The way he said “My mind is blown!” and the actions he did as he said it. Many times.  His wife giving me the bed for the night.  Standing in their kitchen, D hugging both of us and telling us how much he loved us both and was so very happy.  Drunk chatting until all hours of the morning including D talking about picturing us together and how it would look 20 years from now.
  2. The night we first said “I love you” to each other.  The amazing IKEA date, supper at his favourite bar, walk, coffee, and that amazing, long, perfect kiss goodnight.  The way my heart pounded so I thought it would jump out of my chest.  The way I felt when he first said “Goodnight my love”, and the way it felt to whisper “I love you” in his ear.  That amazing feeling of having him say it back.
  3. The night I gave him a long massage.  I got chocolate flavoured/scented (it’s kind of awful, but he just thanked me for not picking cherry) massage oil and massaged him from head to ankle (I have a foot thing).  What followed was hours of foreplay.  It was sensual and soft and when that was done it was hard and sexy and amazing.  I felt like I was showing my love through each touch of every body part.  It was so….complete.  

I miss D.  Things happen in my life and I still catch myself thinking “I should text him to tell him”, and then I realize he’s no longer that person to me. He removed himself from that list in a horrible way. Writing out the above three scenarios hurt.  It brought up the pain that I thought I’d waded through.  The secret of course, is that I haven’t been thinking in detail about any of those things, but acknowledging and moving on.  Writing them out meant thinking hard about the love we shared. What was amazing.  What we’ve lost.

And I’m done.  I’m putting D to rest.  He’s gone from my life.  So he’s gone from this blog too.  I’m still a little sad about that, but the sadness too will end.    

A good place

On Friday, I decided I was taking this weekend to myself.  To be alone and reflect and do some self care.  As alone as one can be when having to keep four young kids alive, anyway.  Saturday and Sunday, I spent in my yard.  I planted most of my garden, mowed the lawn, trimmed the trees, weeded flower beds, and worked.  I got dirty, sweaty, and hot; it was amazing. My kids ran around naked and played in the little paddling pool and got wet naked bums and went shooting out the slide into the pool. My little man learned a bunch of new words this weekend and came and grabbed my hand and dragged me to the couch for a cuddle, which melted my heart.  My girls were lovely, fun, and full of spunk.  The kids played with the neighbourhood kids.  It was easy and relaxing and fun and I processed. Oh how I processed.

I’m in a really good place. The knot in my stomach, the lump in my throat, and the pain in my heart are gone.  I’ve worked at accepting that I may never understand why D ended it the way he did and that I may never understand what my part in it was.  I’ve concluded that I can say it was not me, it was him.  The anger and hurt have dissipated and I think about D far less every day.  So much less that I am forgetting I’m angry about the way he ended it and happy memories float in instead.  As is always the case with me, I can’t stay angry or hold a grudge.  I process quickly, and I’m confident that in no time I’ll just be looking back at everything but our break up with a fondness for how amazing it once was.  The truth is, it was amazing. A relationship ending does not mean it was a bad relationship.  It was a great relationship.  It just had a bad ending.

In among the hurt that I was dealing with last week, F threw me another curve ball in our separation.  A and D had both been suggesting for a long time that I was being too nice.  So, I stopped being so nice.  I’m playing hard ball to his curve ball and he’s upped the passive aggressive bullshit and I’m tired of it.  So I’m going to just let it go and wait and see and try to enjoy my kids and the time I have with A. I need to let go of all the hurt and anger and just be. Take things one step at a time.  Lean on my people and just do stuff in the meantime.

Part of what I did yesterday was reactivate my OKCupid account. I really like getting to know people, talking to them and seeing where things go.  It’ll have to be a pretty strong connection to even get me out on a first date, but there’s no harm in chatting, right? I’m truly not “ready” to date, but I also don’t know when I will be, or if the good time will ever come.  I’m going to play things by ear and see where they go.  I’ve had a lot of messages on Fetlife in the last weeks and am still chatting with K, who I will almost certainly date one day.  The reality is that A’s schedule isn’t going to lighten up in the foreseeable future and we’ve fallen into a good routine with our one in home date every week and stealing a moment here or there otherwise.  I don’t want him to feel pressured for more than he can offer either and that means I might have to get my rocks off elsewhere periodically. I’m polyamorous, so it’s a little odd to have just one man in my life. (If someone would have told me I would write that sentence a year ago, I’d say they were nuts!) I’m just going to be open to possibilities right now and see how things go.

Either way, I’m back to being happy with the life I’ve chosen for myself. I know the decisions I’ve made were right and even though the pain of polyagony has been abundant as of late, living the life I was meant to live and accepting myself as who I am is worth every bit of pain.  I could, however, use a bit of a break.