trapped

***i am so incredibly indebted (reparations yes) to the many many folks of color who have challenged and continue to challenge me from every angle: those who have held my ignorance while holding my hand, shut me down when i needed it, drawn detailed maps of whiteness as presence (as racism), turned my gaze back, generously offered tools, frameworks, stories, compassion, patience, anger, grief... these are such enormous labors of transmutation*** 

from white supremacists with torches murdering and severely wounding people in charlottesville to madison police chief koval rounding up poor black folks throughout the city, on his equally supremacist and fascist "mission" ::: the continuum of white supremacy shows itself starkly 

the grief and anger spinning, our communities reeling

white supremacy culture isn't simply packaged in torches, nazi insignia, police badges, donald trump... it implicates the "nicest" of white liberals, the "fiercest" of white anarchists, the "smartest" of white radical leftist intellectuals, and includes deeply embedded and vigorously defended expectations:
-for everyday environments that bend and shape themselves around white people desires

-for interactions that assume white people should possess the constant presence of both safety and comfort, exploring/ expanding/ appropriating or withholding/ shutting down/ giving up at whatever whim

-for material opportunities, paths towards achievement - property, jobs, relationships, accolades, education, wealth, political power - that concede to an entitled "normalcy" of whiteness

-for ceaseless explicit and implicit control of "intangibles": narratives, aesthetics, rhetoric, emotional well-being, dialogue, manners, critiques, etc etc etc

... that fucked up whiteness of the mind. it is poison

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in the final exit i burned through each room, touched floor and walls, wiped mirrors, swept and wept. it had been a full week of different kinds of tears, an empty house on fire.

wednesday i found the feather near the creek, walking from work. amidst moments of joy, listening to i turn my arm mixed and remixed. wanting immensely to appreciate nell for enthusiasm and encouragement with all things movable. at the new nameless home, she let me hug her, thought the feather might belong to some type of owl.

that evening, noah and i talked softly, metaphysics and delusions, dreams/ intuition/ psychic phenomena. i shared a strange experience, at twenty years old: a vivid dream -a large snake thrown at me which wrapped around my body three times, the head entering my mouth, biting the back of my throat and not letting go. earlier in the dream, a wedding hosted by an a middle-school-friend's family; one of her sisters getting married.

at the time (my late teens/early 20s) i had been intrigued by dream interpretation, had read that snake bites signified psychic perception and weddings predicted death. a few months later, my lack of surprise in the conversation with my mom was notable: the sister of my middle-school-friend had suddenly died.

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this weekend, a return to philly. lack of memory, when was i here last? so many friends have moved away.

fancy house in west philly is a former funeral home, the now anarchistic collective of 15 or so years. the scraps of stories i picked up from traveling in and out over the years: tractor tattoo on the arm of a crush, the ghost that typed via voice recognition, jade's perfect bedroom, prints of portable fortitude in progress, chip's beautiful art in the stairwell, birthday parties on roofs. . .

thursday there were ten of us in the house's backyard, all listening closely and quietly to ramona's album release. not played live but on speakers, with their occasional soft interruption or insert: a wistful memory of their years in paris, a thank you to someone next to me for their violin loan on this track. intimate strangers, the trees sheltering us from the dripping rain. certain tracks were replayed upon request. my eyes half-closed through most.

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with friday came the most beautiful farm / farmer. jeannine's famous stories, the house of worms, turtle aquaponics, the single eucalyptus, crushing mint in teeth, vibrant brilliance and hammock swinging. better told with a view.

out to the roller rink, out to the woods, out of range, reception.

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at the camp on saturday, i am told the story of waffle and the wounded owl. he finds it while driving just days before. wraps in a towel, brings to wildlife rehab. waffle the boy scout, clown, flea market finder, dj and disco dancer.

some of us hike to the shallow silty creek, away from the mob at the lake's beach. daniel cannonballing off the log into maybe three feet of water at most. nearby limb of tree crashing down, butterflies darting up, religion and hitchhiking stories told, a cool escape.

wedding vows revolved around the vulnerable, articulating the flaws and failures, commitments to keep trying, save money for retirement, hop a train, become better negotiators.  those beyond -both fathers recently departed - honored by gusts of wind when summoned, a tilted canoe altar with flowers and photos next to the dinner tent. shiner wore a necklace made of living succulents, had the perfect net for a veil. i wore stripes, suspenders, lynne's black leather hat. held old friends close. we deliciously squished octopi for dinner, homemade tortillas. hard cider and wine, horchata and churros and dancefloor antics late into the evening.

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power out. storm in spurts. hungooooover sunday

morning birthday songs for lynne, a flea market accordion. someone on a cabin porch, playing soft ukelele behind the rain. i eat a perfect peach.

we drive. the rain. treacherous and talk of concussions. jen has succumbed to two this year, her messy brain feels uncomfortably familiar. we lament but she has two small children. for her a stretch to walk shiner down the grassy aisle.

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with rain came range and reception. then news.

[   ]

what do i write about him? these public testaments written on scrolled walls. rip. rip. rip.

weeks ago while packing, i picked through every physical photo i have collected, all stored in an old black typewriter case. i sorted and arranged, plotted an archive of sorts, to turn a box under a bed into pixels with links and mapped locations. a treasure chest.

everyone writes about his dancing, posting his favorite songs. that magical (everyone repeats it, again and again) friend of so many.

you loved the shit out of everybody, and we all knew it, felt it, loved you so big and bright right back. i smell. and hear. that heady oil, that fucking laugh.

certainly there is sorrow here, heavy. but what surprises me is that which rises up. you were a dream really, always so much more than your body. we shared this, both of us so sensitive, understanding... how many conversations did we have about ghosts? and never once about suicide.

*i will be on this side for you if you need it / can't wait to laugh with you on the other*

so this is summer

sticky, the three mile walk home tonight. reminded me of what i love, the heat in darkness, the humid damp sticking to skin, smells of flourishing green, mulberry trees, people sitting outside, laughing.

this walk was different though. fireworks on display for thirty solid minutes, echoing off downtown buildings, reflecting in tall windows, the sky an aftermath of fire.

i wanted to think of myself, i wanted to think about what this aloneness makes of me. tried calling friends instead, then family. six calls, no answer. it's saturday night but days blur. had to check the calendar to be sure.

i wanted to think of myself but i thought about her, so young. the parental inclinations rise but quickly disintegrate. i want to protect her but i am missing important identity arguments. still.

at the gathering, which was like no other i'd been invited to, intimate and emotional in a new way and i too am a participant (despite, again, the identity arguments). i too feel responsible for her care, feel responsible and so rage against the violence that put her at the center of this. i want to protect her and everyone that came before and will come after. we all know this is not the end of the story. justice near the core of this pain, what its lack does and undoes.

tonight sparks protectiveness in the older ones, the actual parents, and in this case, coincidentally those with some status, wealth, institutional sway. i am not naive, i know their struggles are so enormously different than mine. i catch another's eyes amidst the amplified exchanges, know we are hearing the same nerve pressed, though felt in our own distinct ways. respectability gets us nowhere, those politics leaning towards the system like an invitation to be swallowed. yet they too, must stay in the middle of the room, they are part of the landscape, desire. we talk daughters and granddaughters and peers. in obvious fashion, one male voice positions itself highest, talks loudest, interrupts, drones on and on.

walking home, trying to think of myself, thinking of her. then thinking of two others, spirits without bodies. i look for them everywhere: bright neon signs at the museum, booming from the southern lake, patterned shadows of fence, sleeping orange day lilies. how can i protect them? i cannot.

i entered the empty locked house, walked up the stairs, shin splints. suddenly! the lightning and thunder at once, so close. rain sweeping through windows into the rooms.

back down to the door, i yell for gus in the sudden storm. he does not come, my voice does not carry, the downpour is too loud. i cannot protect even the smallest ones, the one i am responsible to, and for. quickly i shut all east-facing windows, then the northern ones.

so i have protected myself without knowing, just barely made it inside, unaware of the weather on my heels. i am lucky this time.

* * *

the storm has blown, another day has turned with the hour. my fur-soaked cat is back, full of affection. everything outside drips in excess, the stickiness has subsided with a long cool breezy moan.

again i sit with tobacco, days beyond my self-imposed limitation. i am not yet ready to let go of certain things. this seems obvious.

on the porch, i try again to think of myself. try to write to myself. for myself.

* * *

here is what i remember:

pregnancy. my body's rejection. self turned inward, unwilling.

i remember the blood exiting me, so solid, an egg.

before that, in the bath, a metaphysical conversation. why this and why now?

two years ago, i heard it clearly. i want to think of myself. yet.

thinking of myself always points me to others, so much to offer. but not this way, not like this.

i think of myself now and am struck. urges: to shelter, guide, protect, nurture. to mentor, care, extend, grow with. it is not biological, not premised on shared blood. no, i want deeply to be of use, to stretch myself differently, to defy the conventions and expectations of notions like body or family or love.

i don't want to think of myself, really.
right there, the way out unfolds.

i want to give whatever i can, i want to foster others. i want to say the longest, biggest YES that i can imagine. i want to be a parent.

!!!!!!

unflattering

(a personal entry)

part one: cigarettes

"there is a diamond in my wound and i can't see it." -alice notley, in the pines

truthfully, i love cigarettes. they have been my greatest addiction, and my greatest addiction overcome.

after ten years of smoking tobacco (in latter years, around a pack a day), i quit cold. i refused tobacco in any form, but never failed to enjoy it when people indulged around me, smoke drifting into my face.

my time with cigarettes is marked by decades. from ages 16 to 26, i was consumed. from 26 to 36, i abstained. this february marked my ten year quitting anniversary; ten years was always my goal. i hoped i could change my relationship to tobacco, enjoying a hookah or a cigarette every once in a while. but fear of my extreme addiction kept me distant.

in recent years, i wished to be stronger than that fear, and assumed a time would come when i would test myself. that time arrived last month. smoking again (with an intention of limiting myself) was part prayer, part coping mechanism. life and loss had turned me upside down.

with a generous gift of a large bag of friend-grown, uncured tobacco (thanks noah!), i began to smoke full, hand-rolled cigarettes. in a week, i was smoking compulsively.

one month later, as i write, i am chain-smoking, enjoying immensely this return to a familiar compulsion. eager to defend myself to anyone expressing critique of this decision, i have legitimized it as a temporary controlled experiment. in actuality, it has been a salve for fresh wounds, helping me channel my intense emotions.

i don't feel guilty, at least about cigarettes.

since starting again, i've had a kind of plan, a bargain with myself. if i allow this now, guiltlessly, i also need a firm quit date and extensive quitting plan in mind. as the date creeps closer, i continue to smoke relentlessly, mapping out the patterns of my familiar addiction. what does smoking do for me? what will i do with my hands? how will i treat my lungs? where will my emotions go?

in the past few months, my body has been shrinking. this is partially due to a different quitting plan (my 2016 "no beer this year" goal, which has resulted in only drinking alcohol - wine - once since january first). i have lost roughly 30 lbs in under five months; half of that has been in the past month alone, with tobacco as an obvious reason.

my body certainly feels different. yes, my clothes fit me more comfortably now. and my body is enormously tired. wrecked actually. i walked about six miles today & felt fine, but smoking + asthma has felt quite dangerous. waking up in the morning is mildly horrible. it seems i need one or two extra hours of sleep every night. yet it is all coupled with the amazing feeling that first cigarette of the day brings me. joy. a temporary rush of it. god, it feels like something divine.

when i quit in february 2006, i wrote a zine (essentially journal entries) of the first few days of withdrawal. it served multiple purposes: gave me a place to channel the withdrawal symptoms, documented my process, and offered a touchstone to help me maintain commitment to my goal. i approached the quitting time with the same compulsion that i approached smoking. this taught me immensely, so much so that i have often remarked that quitting my cigarette addiction was one of the most challenging battles of my life.

this quitting process gave me two very specific gifts. one, i felt amazingly strong and proud of myself for seeing it through. i began to inhabit a new, smoke-free body. the zine was my way of publicly holding myself accountable, and it worked. two, i felt a deeper understanding of the complex struggle that addiction can be. this was not only true in increasing my empathy (and boundaries) for and with others struggling with addiction. it also allowed me to see the many substances and habits i had addictive relationships with, including the abandon, compulsion, guilt, and extremity of my own behaviors in the world, things unrelated to cigarettes.

part two: other substances

"this is a better system: one looks into the blazing defect, all at once. not really such a hard card to play. but i never want to turn a card over again." -alice notley, in the pines

in studying substance addiction, i have been shown how both total abstinence and harm reductive approaches can be useful for me.

in college, i was definitely addicted to weed, although so many heavy weed-smokers refuse to admit that the substance is addictive. in my 20s and 30s i've used weed occasionally; there were years where i didn't smoke at all. i don't really enjoy the effects all that much, but every once in a while i forget that & do it anyway. my approach to weed has been a harm reductive one, but the substance itself no longer compels me much.

alcohol is different. much of my 20s was spent enjoying it on occasion. i was likely not drinking all that often due to the cost of alcohol, and its lack of focus in many of my social/community gatherings and relationships. there were short windows where i drank more regularly - for example, the floridian winter i spent drinking nightly bottles of wine in the backyard with two good friends (naming ourselves "the bad influences"). in my 30s, alcohol use has been more prevalent, specifically in more recent years. prior to this january, i'd say that my most habitual drinking has been in the last two years.

i noticed my growing dependency because of that telltale question: are you hiding it? i was. mostly i drank by myself, but also with my previous partner and certain friends. i also regularly consumed a larger amount, anywhere between 3-5 beers almost every night. so much money was spent on alcohol, particularly fancy beer, and there was usually a bottle of gin in my closet. it became more obvious to me when i realized how infrequently all of my housemates would drink alcohol, and how patterned around alcohol consumption my romantic relationship seemed to be. i tried taking short breaks, mostly to prove to myself that it wasn't an issue. these breaks would last a month or so, and during them, i found it consistently hardest to maintain my sobriety when with my partner.

there are other substances too. sugar is a top one. the gratification of baking is something that poses a challenge. as a creative hobby and stress reliever, baking functions in a kind of "healthy" capacity. but my sugar addiction, coupled with my body's dislike of gluten and dairy, turns baking into a kind of itch i need to scratch. gluten and dairy have their own difficulties. i've learned certain ways to tolerate them in small doses, and also ways i can avoid gluten (by using newly-accessible but expensive substitutes). i wrestle with these foods on a daily basis, while also trying to prevent them from taking up too much space in my mind.

then there is caffeine addiction, which, i've learned, is potentially larger than my tobacco addiction. i don't want to quit. in reading about this addiction, i found something about how caffeine can restructure one's brain, which can mean that longtime/heavy caffeine users, even in quitting for a long while, will have a nagging sense that something isn't right. a kind of ongoing chemical imbalance.

it had been years since i tried to take a short break from caffeine, so i tried again this spring. i took ten days off and felt, well, mostly terrible. i started up again then took another ten days off the following month. i noticed i was less anxious overall, but still eager to return to yerba mate.

i don't feel able to write much more about this. it's a definite addiction, widely acceptable, and i have little motivation to quit.

part three: the less obvious

"the intention of the organism is to know. i say i don't have enough stamina to clean all the rooms. i say i may not have enough stamina for all this. the others will insist i have." - alice notley, in the pines

in focusing on my substance addictions, i began to see how i would make plans to quit one thing by replacing it with another. when i quit cigarettes, i replaced them more immediately with eating sugar and drinking lots of tea. physical, oral immediacies. in the longer term, i became very interested in breath, yoga, and meditation, which is worth another entire entry.

when i made a plan to stop drinking alcohol, i replaced it with copious consumption of sparkling water. the pattern of drinking cans or bottles of something carbonated was not interrupted. as a physical replacement, it has worked well. i also began a new habit of practicing spanish every night, mostly using a website. the gamification/ goal-orientation of the website's structure triggered a sort of compulsion, which helped me stay committed to the learning.

the act of substitution began to stand out to me. i recognized the ritualistic and habitual nature in which i was/am acting much of the time. of course, habits and rituals are common parts of everyday life, like brushing one's teeth. however, it occurred to me (and not for the first time) that some of my behaviors resemble obsessive-compulsive disorder. i have used "OCD" to describe myself before; while being serious and mindful about not using it pejoratively, i thought it somewhat milder in me, wondering if it was "ok" that i claimed it as my own.

in reading more about OCD and seeing a therapist/ receiving medication for anxiety issues, i started to realize how well this explain certain things about me, particularly things i try to hide from others. years ago, my therapist pointed out that i struggle with rumination. i understood this as a kind of analyzing taken to an extreme. it can also describe a "worst-case-scenario" thinking that runs uncontrollably and frequently through my mind.

my obsessive repetitious thought processes are exacerbated by the immediacy of computers and smart phones. but these mannerisms can also be traced to less obvious (at least to me) habits that play out particularly in my work and in my relationships. they also frequently arise as debilitating fears about the loss of my family members and close friends, or about my own death.

earlier this year, i began to scrutinize my workaholism, an addictive set of behaviors that seems relatively common among many of my friends - in particular, those who do political/community organizing. there is a gut-wrenching drive that many of us seem to share. we want a different kind of world and existence, so it feels wrong to stop fully engaging with this work at any point. i tell myself, i take breaks. i go camping or small trips, take baths, watch tv or movies, etc. but my work, even the paid, non-community-organizing stuff, is filled with constant juggling of tasks & timelines, extreme self-initiative, frequent meetings & strategizing, and ongoing exhaustive work. it is also rewarding in many, many ways. amazing friendships are born or strengthened, resources are connected or shifted, support systems are built, and my own validation (from "having done a good job") is a huge payoff.

but this workaholism belies an incessant, capitalistic obsession with productivity (which many others have written critically about, so i won't really add to that). this kind of obsession takes over my life in two main ways.

the first: the things i do that are not explicitly "work" become a kind of intensive labor. this is most evident in my romantic relationships. this also becomes clear in pastimes like reading. instead of simply making it a point to read more frequently, last year i set myself a goal of reading 100 books. i ended the year with a list of 350 books i consumed, and not in a "good" way. many of the books i hardly remember, as i was simply driven to finish them. (many of them i do remember & did enjoy, but still.) this was a pinnacle of compulsion for me. and it's so rewarded! people would view having read so many books as a kind of achievement (or conversely, as a kind of luxury... who has the time?). i moreso felt a kind of shame about it; it draws attention to my obsessive nature.

the second: my obsessions can create a kind of dichotomy between "work" and "rest" (or play) that feeds into and exacerbates other issues. one easy example is when relaxation consistently takes the form of drinking alcohol. another way this plays out is using "rest" as a kind of general escapism, something i only allow if i have pushed myself to the limit with work. in relationships, i may only allow myself to "rest" with people if i can also "work" with them, which can sometimes take the form of pushing them to limits or watching them push themselves.

here is my most difficult and tentative insight: relating with others, especially certain others, can bring out strong OCD or addictive tendencies in me.

part four: relationships

"i never wanted to do you wrong. / you are the one i wanted least to / do that to. this must be a universe of / care, that hoot-owl moaning; please / don't mischaracterize me, i would not / want to wrong you. i never wanted / to sing this song. but now it's mine." - alice notley, in the pines

i can offer two relatively different examples of how these tendencies play out with my relating to other people. the first is with my family, particularly my sister's family. the second is within my romantic relationships, particularly within my two most recent, longer term partnerships.

with my family, i try to have relationships that are "exempt" from work - in the sense that i end up trying to meet them much more where they're at. i don't necessarily try to continuously improve my relationships with them or attach intensive political-driven desires. but that's only some of the time. when i am with my niece and nephew, it can be exhausting but there is a lot of play, a kind of break from everything else. this sometimes feels like an enormous respite for me. yet i also try to teach them things about the world as i see it. i talk with them about gender, police brutality, the black lives matter movement, consent, racist sports logos, dumpster diving, nationalism, etc etc. i encourage them to question what they are taught, even the things i communicate. they recently moved to an even-more-white suburb of madison, into a fancy house and neighborhood, and it's important to me to be a regular presence in their life that is outside of all that.

there is an element of control in this, and i see that. i can also justify it by acknowledging that they are knowing me, which means knowing about the ways i feel, think, and perceive. i can only hope to engage them.

there is an OCD element in my family relationships. i feel a kind of repetitive terror about the loss of my family members, in a way that truly can keep me up at night. my time with my niece and nephew is also filled with my over-bearing protectiveness. it can be difficult to relax. i know that this is not helpful, that being anxious and fear-driven can create a tension that isn't supportive of their freedom to play and explore. but i cannot curb my thoughts, which get set on high volume. what if they choke? run into the street? fall down stairs? have an asthma attack? etc etc etc

recently i was with my niece & nephew while my sister was in the ER dealing with her own constant health struggles. my nephew had a fever of 102.6 and became incredibly hot and very lethargic. i came seriously close to a panic attack when i was unable to reach my mom (who is a nurse) via phone. as i was carrying him to the car, preparing to drive to the ER, my sister called from there and calmly instructed me on what to do - which included giving him medicine and waiting for her to get home. while this situation describes a kind of anxiety that i'm guessing many parents and caretakers face at some time(s) or another, it has stayed with me for days, worrying and obsessing about the safety of my family.

this week, i also recently (separately) ended up in a full-blown panic attack, one which i could not locate the source of. i had taken a shower & was about to get ready for work, and suddenly i was incapacitated. i stood up to close my window and very nearly blacked out. as i laid in bed, mentally repeating "everything is going to be ok" while waiting for my anxiety meds to kick in, i couldn't figure out what was happening, or why.

this was not my first panic attack, but it is rare for me to have them unprecipitated by something i know is a trigger. for example, if there is a tornado watch, it is possible. if there is a tornado warning, it is practically a given. sometimes i have panic attacks after smoking weed. one thing is clear: i have difficult and sometimes debilitating struggles with my own mental health.

whether it comes from others who - consciously or unconsciously - delegitimize or invalidate this, or whether it comes from within (in the sense that i am often posed to see my own struggles as "not as bad" as others), it becomes a new kind of struggle to allow myself the acknowledgement of my own demons. these include depression, delusional thinking, sensory imbalances, OCD, dissociation, past experiences of trauma, and general anxiety. it is not flattering. my own mental health struggles have caused me to lose jobs and relationships. if my coping abilities lead others to believe that i "have my shit together", then great. but this isn't the full truth, and it's also a kind of misrecognition. i am regularly engaged in internal battles, ones that feel highly uncomfortable to bring to light.

the second major area that my mental health struggles and addictive tendencies play out is in my romantic relationships. the intimacy of these relationships seem to create catch 22 situations. i want to be both independent and interdependent. i want to be challenged but also experience connection. i want to be in relationships that feel safe & secure while also not depending on them to validate my self-worth. my most recent longer term partnerships have shown me my strengths, confidence, intelligence, and compassion as well as my shame, insecurities, and obsessions.

in the first, i was with my partner, d, for six years. we created a life together that i would later call "codependent". we were very different, in terms of ways we engaged in the world, and it often felt like a "mismatch". this was negated in ways by a powerful emotional connection and shared dreams of daily living and a future together. we lived together for years and moved to three different states. we farmed together, something which served my workaholic and organizing-obsessive tendencies. to coax seeds into plants, plants into rows, and rows into truckloads of food was quite a labor of control.

d and i also started our own farm business, which was filled with planning (and debate). we accomplished physical farm labor together with an ease, both comfortable with eachother's strengths and weaknesses in this realm. both of us had a lot of stamina and dedication for this exhausting work. however, we lacked shared intellectual and creative pursuits, which i know now that i need in any close relationship. i used to say, "i want to be challenged in ways that make me grow", and felt our disagreements were repetitious and lacked mutual insight, particularly in regards to motivations and intentions. this caused the most harm in our frequent, high-emotion arguments and in experiences with non-monogamy.

when that relationship ended, i recognized that i had spent most of the relationship blaming d for not measuring up to what i wanted - a high emotional intelligence. i felt forced into a position of being the one who did the majority of emotional labor. while there is truth in that ("i did the majority of emotional labor"), i needed to know what my own accountability was in our tumult. i needed to understand the harm. it took me awhile to locate it.

[an aside: while blame can feel like an outlet for the anger and loss of a person who i loved dearly, blame also felt old and tiring. i had obsessed about our dynamics for far too long, and i wanted to learn something more - about myself and for myself - not just chalk it up to "choose a more emotionally intelligent partner next time". blaming also enforced a convenient narrative, one that held me in a victim mentality and displaced my own responsibility towards myself and towards my partner.]

what i came to see was that i had clung to the relationship in so many instances, believing that it was more important than my own needs. i had become dependent on d to fill a place in my life, perhaps even to protect me, and had a difficult time imagining what my life could look like without that relating. because i could not control d or the relationship (and i tried), i ruminated constantly about it. i analyzed, challenged, and picked apart things, believing that doing this would somehow keep me safe. i feared abandonment more than anything. but i wasn't content. how could i be? i didn't turn my analysis back on myself and ask, why are you choosing this? because i didn't feel like i was. i was addicted to the relationship and i believe d was too.

my constant mode was one of suspicion, which led me at times to violate d's privacy. i justified this as a protective measure; only later was i able to fully understand how awful these behaviors were. there were other hallmarks of co-dependency on display in this relationship. years later, the more interesting questions for me at this point in time are: what was my substitute for this addiction? also, what comes after co-dependency?

for a long time after, i obsessed about this relationship. my drive to understand every unexamined piece was fueled by d's absence, as well as a desire to never put myself in a similar situation again. i did not want to be hurt in the way i was aching and i did not want to ever again act in such hurtful ways. it was important for me to clarify and own my participation in our dynamics. only then could i really feel able to forgive d and myself.

in time, i have been able to do both; d and i have been able to become supportive friends to one another. the point about being driven by absence is a sticking one - particularly in terms of substitution- and has come up again in the ending of my more recent longer term partnership.

i entered into a sort of on-off relationship with s maybe four(?) years ago, which was not very long after my previous one had ended. s and i ended up being more consistently together for about two and a half recent years.

this relationship was grounded in distance, both spatially (living in separate towns) and emotionally. it felt very different than the previous one, which was exactly what i wanted. our primary connection was intellectual. at one point early on, s wrote something like "a relationship with you is going to be a lot of work, but isn't there something romantic in that?" for this and many other reasons, i felt we were "a match". it seemed i was partnered with someone who could keep up with me, in particular, my incessant analyzing.

the distance served me well. i had become extremely skeptical of romance myths and was very aware of my previous co-dependency. the distance gave me space to be with close friends and build tighter community, relationships that also challenged and supported me. it gave me a lot of time alone, which allowed me to work more and also helped me stay mindful of how i was relating in partnership. i felt much more aware of my choices and intentions, and often looked outside of my partnership to meet certain key needs.

there was an odd, enigmatic security in not have security in this partnership. i was very determined to not behave in controlling ways, which at times skewed the other direction. i wanted to be very careful about insisting on having certain needs met, either because i thought this insistence could be potentially controlling or demanding, or because i had recognized that s was not capable of meeting them.

intimacy became a stranger and stranger concept. in providing for myself often outside of the partnership, i was slowly building a kind of invulnerability within it. my obsessive behaviors played themselves out in a regular pattern of analyzing. i wanted to understand so much about how we were different, and i also wanted to locate places where we were similar. places of connection.

s and i had both entered into our relationship after losses of previous, important partnerships. we both had very extensive systems of protection and shared in common a high valuation of our individual mind's own abilities to keep this protection in place.

i defaulted predominantly (though not always) into a mode of non-suspicion, believing that i should be most focused on myself, my responses to situations, my own intentions. i knew how horrible it felt to operate out of a place of constant suspicion, and how harmful to everyone such a mode can be. while i regularly checked in with myself about my assumptions of "good intent" (what i assumed from my partner), i also see now how my endless curiosity and questions could have been perceived as suspicion. i didn't want to control s. i wanted to control myself. i learned how to make a lot of space in me, particularly to understand different motivations and ways of viewing and being in the world. i believed this to be a liberating basis for a relationship.

while i would say that this kind of relating felt "healthier", a couple of my friends recently told me they disagree. their assessments were something like this: in my drive to "do things differently", to prevent myself from co-dependent relating, i furthered a kind of destructive individualism that dismissed the importance of intimate interdependence and basic emotional care. i maintained a cautious eye on - and ownership of- my impact on my partner (self-accountability) but believed it to be my full responsibility to do double the work, maintaining the same cautious eye and ownership regarding my partner's impact on me. the heightened intellectual basis of our partnership made this difficult for me to see. one friend described my partner's regular communication style to be, 'i want to create whatever rhetorical structure is useful to me, and i don't care if it's at your expense.'

as that relationship has ended and many difficult things have occurred in recent months, i am forced to ask myself where i go with all this.

first, absence. without this person and partnership in my life, i have seen much more clearly my tendencies towards obsessive analysis. i have a need to comb through all of my memories and feelings to try to make sense of what happened. this feels like a kind of addiction, or a kind of addictive withdrawal. this, again, is unflattering. while i don't believe this partnership was "co-dependent", i still feel a kind of addictive absence. i miss the ongoing challenge of trying to relate to another highly intellectual person, someone who had seemed to share a huge capacity for analysis and a similar drive of curiosity. someone with an independent and protective mind.

but the absence is also, in its own way, a replacement of an addiction, a swapping. to trace all the previously unseen threads and pick them apart, to let my mind run on and on. . .

i know i could just as easily turn to a substance (like cigarettes, which i have done) or another romantic relationship (which i've attempted, but then backed away from). instead, sitting in my sorrow, anger, and analysis has its own strange allure. or compulsion.

more than anything, i want to grow and learn from my experiences. and if i've caused harm to myself or others, i want to understand how and why i did. if harm has been done to me, i want to root it out and understand it. this is an obsessive drive for me. it feels as though i am on a kind of roller coaster, and cannot allow myself to exit until i have come to terms with every curve and dip, every corkscrew and climb. or until the rollercoaster runs out of power and comes to a stop on its own.

in thinking through questions regarding suspicion and assumptions of intent, other mental pathways about identities and power and internalized oppression open up. these things have their own language and frameworks, and i continuously write them out. cigarettes in particular are connected to habits of endless writing. i've filled two journals already.

the last question i am turning around, especially lately, has been about my own mental health.

whether it's addiction or OCD, constant questioning, analyzing, and ruminating is something i don't feel in control of. conversely, maybe it's all i have control of, or it's a tool that i use to help me feel safe in a hostile world. yet it doesn't always do this. it can heighten my intense fears and anxieties, leading to panic attacks and the like. such analysis can also provide rewards. i am a better friend-therapist, community organizer and political strategist, and can use my analysis to hold myself accountable.

but it can also push people away when it places them under the microscope, and can lock me into a tower of my own self-protection. it reinforces the lies i tell myself about my vulnerability or invulnerability. it puts me on roller coasters i'd rather not be on. it can turn play into work and drain me of my breath.

and still i cannot stop.

my mind needs a maze to run around, needs to come up against limits, needs to exhaust itself over and over again.

sometimes i wonder what i would be like without this. my imagination fails me.

dance break

so m. gives me advice, or rather, asks the right question.  "how about taking a break from analyzing?"   

i fall back on that boring template of an excuse: how could i?  this is all i am.  anxiety rules me, i live inside of analysis, one leads the other by both of my hands, we are all inseparable...

yet.  i have come to love those hard, impossible questions (thanks m!), those pressure points.

he adds [something like] "your analytical mind is a survival tool, which is not good or bad.  yet it is overdeveloped & has crowded out other tools.  maybe your impulsive self is child-like.  why don't you turn off the analysis and let yourself be impulsive?  grow up."

i have agreed.  i will whittle away or cut off or redirect the analysis for awhile.  to be in my body, to feel my feelings, to melt away the ice block that i've become.

this goes along well with my current (temporary?  permanent?) breakup with buddhism, meditation.  it is ironic timing, actually.  i have recently realized that i no longer feel so anxious most of the time.  however, i haven't been able to feel my body, or feel anything really.  so is my choice between feeling+anxiety or no feeling+no anxiety?  hmmmmmm

so, for life to have meaning, i have to feel alive.  to feel alive, i have to feel anxiety?  really?  and... how do i get there again?

there's been alcohol.  lots of homemade nachos.  going on dates.  having a new, enormous crush (feelings! for such a highly impulsive/creative human being).  getting sun-drenched & sore-limbed at the garden.  cuddling hardcore with guts, my neglected cat.

little moments of emotion return in their odd waves, usually in the form of compassion: a. listens to a podcast on immigrant rights activists and detention center infiltrations, tears lurk under my face.  my sister tells me about a kid in my niece's class who appears quite neglected by his parents.  immediately i well up & want to adopt a fleet of children. 

i AM starting to feel again!  it is pain that alerts me, but i keep at it.  i sign up for a modern dance summer class.

during the first hour of the first class, i adore the calm voice & careful visualizations of the instructor.  i love thinking about my lumbar spine again, feeling the creases in my hip joints, the weight of my heels.

then we go into the sequences.  i cannot figure it out.  the split between my brain & body echoes, grows enormous.  i am trapped.

here are my eyes, watching the footsteps, observing the arms.  here are my ears, listening for rhythm.  here are my shoulders remembering their role and one two three four one two three four one two three four five fucking six which foot where / arms go how / why am i dying

fourteen eighteen twenty-five tries (or so it seems), i am the only one in the class who does not get it.  thinking leads to over-thinking which brings so much head, no body.  i can't feel anything, how again was that supposed to go?  what is the rhythm why am i here how can i escape what if i start crying 

yet i am laughing, goofy faces, aloof or clumsy or whoever i am performing

the instructor, she is wise and kind.  she looks for ways to help, she compliments my breathing.

i watch the clock, the final 30 minutes moving backwards, where is the rhythm why is this wide open space

we switch sequences.  the new one goes one two three one two three one two three four.  there are jumps, i get it, i am gliding across the floor.  she calls it "walk-falling".  we are always doing it, in those little moments before the heel hits the ground. this one feels fluid, familiar

(this is why i am here.  to walk-fall my way around, to feel-fall my way through.  to discover the fluid-familiar.) 

now.  this is a journal entry, an impulsive one, broadcast almost live near & far, to no one.

this mind invests itself in a disappearing act, a switcher of flips, a poker of soft spots, a presser of tension.  but my body sense, my feeling sense (the i & mine that i've come to know) is invested in being seen, validated, cared for, and ultimately, recognized.

my mind loves the no, the boundary
everything else loves the yes

between sense and non-sense
i remain torn and split but leaning heavily
how to: coordinate. integrate.
always i breathe until

today/

i graduated into the world of the traveling mp3 device...  the mixtape just died a little bit (more) but this baby step into the technological unknown is not without skepticism & trepidation, for the record.

autumn equinox

part one:

autumn equinox rolled in sleepily, catching me under blankets, under the weather.  my epic continuous to-do list blew out of my head, a breezy day shaking closed windows.  curled in bed with gus the cat, i meditated about the approaching sickness, sensing my way towards the best route back to health.  take the day slow, i heard.  make soup, make tea, take a hot shower.  read.  bake.  stretch.

so i listened, and let my day of empty cool weather fill slowly with warm, easy movement, music and words, hot water.  i left all the shoulds under the pillows, to be picked up again at a different time.

i turned on the stove, chopped onions and cauliflower, hot peppers garlic and zucchini; junk soup was not an agenda item, it simply happened with my hands.  large cups of nettle ginger tea settled me while the finishing touches of september's music mix fell into place.  the shower was hot and long and i felt no guilt.  i picked up and put down four different books, finishing one and opening another for the first time.  somewhere in there, a private dance party occurred, as usual. 

in the evening, overtaken by sweet cravings and a desire to turn on the oven, i began folding together the ingredients for chocolate mint cookies, an established comfort food.  missing a key ingredient, a sunset walk to the store was inevitable.  upon arrival, i felt out of sorts, bright lights and people, interactions and choices.  somehow, i purchased items to make a linzer torte, and accidentally left without the mint extract.  i turned and headed back, this time without headphones and with a greater sense of focus.  back at home, the bowl of almost-finished cookie dough greeted me.

with the comfort baked into sweetness, the endless pot of spicy soup on the stove, the music mix completed, and nighttime all around, i wrapped myself again in covers, tulsi tea at my side, book in hand.  i slipped easily into sleep and dreamed of bombs almost going off, a quiet revolution under the surface of a country.  i woke up bleeding.

part two:

autumn equinox rolls the sun from virgo to libra, so perhaps it's no surprise that the combination of feeling sick, seeking warmth, and wanting to share food all rolled into a deep longing.  a desire for relationship, but more specifically, a romance, a partner. 

i walk often around town with my headphones, daydreaming about to-do lists and creative projects, moving my head to beats, letting my heart swell to melodies.  often i muse about romantic longings, and, like sandpaper, they rub up against the very real busy-ness that is my daily life.  for many many months, i have asked myself if i have it in me to give what i seek, to offer what i need/want/wish for.  the answer is often a painful no.  i don't create the necessary space in my life for this.

almost every day, my calendar is filled from the moment i awaken until i go to bed at night.  i hardly get enough sleep, believing i can catch up next season.  in the last year, i have started to prioritize the solitude i need.  it took me a long time to realize how many hours i must set aside for myself, simply to think/write/meditate.... a lot.  each morning, i prefer to wake up and write for over an hour, and i usually need another hour each day just to think.  this is best done sitting in my room or by the water & meditating, or going for a walk with my headphones.

the life list starts rolling in.... there are at least 25 big writing projects that i've half-started, not to mention the constant ongoing music-mix-making and friend packages i'm forever trying to mail.  then there are all my favorite confidantes that i crave time with, whether in person (in madison) or via phone.  there is music to be created, bands to start, guitars & drums & pianos to play.  there are sobrinos that grow so rapidly i get time-whiplash whenever we hang out.  there are lots of smart amazing talented people i want to get to know better, so many powerful speakers and workshops to attend (for free!) at the university, endless music shows and dance performances and fundraisers around town, birthdays to celebrate, you name it.

all this must come in between and around the three other major time-consuming parts of my life: my paid job (32 hours each week), my role as cooperative-owner of bare bones farm (12-24 hours each week), and my commitment as part of the groundwork collective (varies). 

the other day, i asked myself if i fill my life the way i do because i don't have the romantic relationship(s) i desire.  then i realized how this has actually been a habit of mine for a long time: constant productivity, busy patterns, so many things to juggle.  the difficult truth is that this was the gift and the curse that i brought into my last longterm relationship.  as a gift, i was often processing so many different experiences, learning and growing rapidly, seeking and stretching and taking on more and more.  like this quote i read last night: "'i change too quickly: my today refutes my yesterday.  when i ascend i often jump over steps, and no step forgives me that.  when i am aloft, i always find myself alone.  no one speaks to me, the frost of solitude makes me tremble.  what do i want in the heights?'" (from thus spake zarathustra)  my own self-determination is a gift that allows me to look inside as well as in multiple directions for the connection and validation i seek, not simply to impose this as pressure on one single person/partner.  i know that this is a strength i bring, and something i look for in others as well.

but i have also become highly aware of what a curse these workaholic, intensely productive patterns are.  the questions i wrestle with now are things like- have i internalized capitalism so intricately that i cannot separate my being from my doing?  am i hypervigilant with momentum to avoid the crash of inertia?  why does slowing down often lead me into depression?  at what point does my individual sense of stress leak into the lives of the people who care about me?  how does my pace and drive to process things quickly (and change rapidly) put pressure on others?  how does my workaholism leave no room for the spontaneous? have i become too serious?  too isolated?  do i allow things the time to unfold at their own pace, or am i constantly pushing?  how can i transform my tremendous guilt when friends and family want more of my time than i have to offer?

so i get it now.  i have a lot going on in my mind most of the time.  i hold myself to particular standards, i don't like my time to be wasted, and i create a life where i am always learning something new.  i am an intense creature.  this often bothers other people, as intensity is a quality that others are either drawn to or repelled by.  i believe my drive to constantly move, produce, and explore comes from a deep passion and creativity, a longing to be fully living my life.  the irony is that it often keeps me from being fully awake and alive in the moment.  i am forever reflecting on the past or chasing something into the future, seeking depth and expansion elsewhere.

so on the autumn equinox, it all lies bare.  a day of slowness & spaciousness stirs up the fierce longing in me, for sweetness, tenderness, companionship, silliness, care, compassion, connection.  when all is pulled away, the simple days of warmth, food, books, and blankets are ones i want more of.  true nourishment. 

i send this wish now into the magic of the equinox: help me make more space in my life like this.  then tell romance to come over, like lightning.

"'this tree stands here alone on the mountainside; it has grown up high above man and animal. and if it wished to speak, it would find no one who understood it: so high has it grown.  now it waits and waits - yet what is it waiting for?  it lives too near the seat of the clouds: is it waiting, perhaps, for the first lightning?'" (nietzsche)

polyamory part two

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this topic is extra hot right now, emerging in about four different directions simultaneously. And with every mental muscle I apply, I keep learning, feeling, judging, affirming, stretching.  so i will continue writing.

WHAT IS CENTRAL?

Last night, the conversation hurt at times. I can't help but have empathetic belly-flipping body responses, as I know those desires and fears too.

Here's how I could boil it down: what we centralize is the important part. Is the central need- for one or both partners as individuals- to explore sexual/romantic desires for outside lovers? Or is the central need- for one or both partners as individuals- to create a sense of security that assures them that there will only be monogamy in thought, feeling, action? Or is the central need to build a strong relationship with a trustworthy foundation so that other desires and needs outside of it could be safely, securely explored? Building strong relationships takes time and patience! lots of mistakes get made, and lots of transformation and healing occur too.

LOYALTY, THE BALANCE

as I reflect on my own relationships, where and when i've felt desire to explore non-monogamy, it always comes down to a sense of loyalty. If I feel a strong sense of loyalty from my partner, I feel more interested in (and capable of) exploring other relationships. words, actions, and time are the magic ingredients for building loyalty in my world.  However, if I don't feel this from my partner, or if it's too soon to tell, I tend to have a much stronger urge to cling and impose limitations.  i end up focusing so much on the primary relationship (and all my fears) that i don't have interest or space to relax and consider my full desires.

one example of how this played out in my life (in the past couple years) was when I began dating someone outside of my primary partnership last year. I was pretty excited about the relationship, but almost immediately, my former partner also started to date someone else. My feelings became so clouded with insecurity (well, my primary relationship was suffering from a lot of patterned dishonesty)... the initial excitement I had about my new sweetheart was emotionally hijacked by this separate situation, and I didn't have the capacity to continue exploring it. The space in my heart shut down, or rather, became preoccupied with doubt and pain.

At this point in my life, I am cautious about entering partnerships in the first place, as I tend to bring a pretty solid sense of loyalty with me. however, my desires for sex and romance will always extend beyond one singular relationship. The crux of this polyamory v. monogamy theorizing- for me- rests within the weighing and balancing. What is worth more to me in various situations? That question is complicated by multiple responsibilities: to myself, my partners, lovers...

COMPETITION

often, an aspect of unconscious competition emerges between primary partners. I've seen this more often when polyamory is approached without explicit mutual, supportive intentionality. One partner feels a need to have an outside sweetheart because their partner does, and the desire is actually motivated by insecurity. Or one partner strongly encourages the other to explore outside relationships, because they want to legitimize their own explorations, & have permission to [continue to] do so. (i've often seen this pressure emerge after that exploring partner has been dishonest/untrustworthy.)

but another aspect of competition that isn't talked about so much is when theory competes with practice and emotions. There have been countless times that i've heard the poly-dialogue revolve around one or the other polarity. Since the theory part is much more mental and idealistic (and associated with patriarchy), I see this more often- a lot of valid emotional responses thrown out the window (by any person involved), because it doesn't fit the ideal, the theory. The reality is that a lot of folks in radical communities see that non-monogamy can be incredibly liberating, and theoretically agree with the arguments in favor of poly relationships. The discord that emerges is generally not theoretical, yet heady arguments are often utilized to escape the real radical emotional and practical cores of the practice.

It can be really hard for partners to speak openly about jealousy and insecurity without shaming themselves or blaming/being blamed. It can also be really hard for partners to speak openly about sexual and romantic desires without fear of hurting another. These honesties are so interconnected. I would argue that when we get really clear with our own desires, and have the ability to separate want from need, communicating this to our partners is quite radical. As partners who listen to and process our partner's (potential or actual) relationships with other lovers, we can get clear about our jealousies and insecurities, and have the ability to take radical responsibility for our emotions. As partners who explore relationships outside of the primary one, we can be highly respectful of our partner's emotional responses, and create a space of radical understanding, empathy, honesty, concern, and responsibility.

Both partners, ultimately, must be highly willing to explore polyamory in the first place. If one wants it and the other doesn't, this is a setup for coercive dynamics. Likewise, if one partner wants monogamy and the other doesn't, this can also be a setup for coercive dynamics. Within any variation on the spectrum, the healthiest of relationships have a common theme of mutual self-accountability. What this looks like in action is, first and foremost, a willingness- to be direct, intentional, reflective, cautious, curious, uncomfortable. We must be open to accepting our partner's true desires and true emotions, no matter how scary they might seem. And when we accept them, we must be clear in what is ours to own- our wants, needs, patterns, tendencies, intentions, wounds, mistakes. This is a LOT of work. it is best done once those foundations of commitment have already been built. And while we may end up hurt or hurting, we must take care to do no harm, to ourselves or others.

The best relationships I know of don't have a certain theme of polyamory nor monogamy in them, but a willingness to do the work of constantly growing, changing, expanding, and building trust.

(polyamory part three coming soon!  topics will include- to be hurt/to cause hurt, heteropatriarchy in poly dynamics, blame v. shame, the wisdom of dean spade)

8.26.12

polyamory

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i've wanted to write about this for a long time.

In multiple situations in the past, when I have asserted a need for loyalty & fidelity in romantic relationships, the projection of restriction! has been thrown back at me, as if I was a cage door shutting, a cop locking my lover in a jail cell. Like a good anarchist, I swallowed this projection and began a serious evaluation of what polyamory really means, what monogamy really means, and where I fit in the spectrum of desires. Who wants to be a cop or a cage? Not me.

yet in the process of resisting my impulses in the name of liberation, I also did something horrible: I shamed my own needs and the boundaries that were necessary for me to create trust. I internalized this repetitious projection of being a police officer (as many people in this situation do), and felt forced into denying my own needs & desires. The irony has not been lost on me; the liberating concept of polyamory can enforce the same guilt and restriction that it is meant to free us of!

PART ONE

So what do I feel? What do I want? my spectrum of desires, as I discovered, changes all the time. Occasionally, I feel eager to explore multiple romances. In a way, this is similar to how i've liked to have many friends with varying interests, multiple social circles... I like to know lots of interesting people, and find our commonalities. It can be exciting to dance among a handful of lovers, to learn a bit about people who are different than I am, to share small windows of time and connections.

As i've grown older and built some deep, genuine friendships with confidantes I admire and learn from, I have come to realize that these are the types of intimate relationships that I need. These are the friends I can lean on and be weak with, talk out my fears and listen to theirs, build our relationships on mutual aid and amazement. And then, that's what I realize I want in a lover, that depth. The depth comes with a basic singularity of commitment to build upon (at least to begin with, possibly in perpetuity). Living in a society that objectifies, dismisses, and tries to own my body shapes my understanding of the intimacy of physicality with a lover. we all must work to consciously examine the messages we've internalized about ourselves and our lovers, to maintain the understanding that the personal, the intimate, the romantic.... is still political.

As I started writing about lovers & romance, I realize how quickly that takes me to friendships and confidantes. part of my heart gets wrapped around deep relationships, no matter if they are friend or lover. There is a loyalty that gets built, and it starts with being intensely honest with myself. The major theme in my relationships with my best confidantes is this: we are willing to be really really honest, both in speaking our truths & holding a common level of accountability to high standards of integrity. Boundaries soften considerably in relationships such as these, where trust is firmly established and is built with time & commitment.

I have seen polyamory primarily applied to relationships that include some sort of romance or sexual intimacy. Yet many years ago, one of my confidantes said to me: I think of polyamory as all the strong heartfelt friendships I have, and how I want to prioritize many of them, not just my primary romantic partnership. This echoes within me as well; I am not willing to sacrifice the depth, time, and commitment I have to my confidantes, simply to give more of myself to a romantic partner. While this might mean that I'm not ultimately as available, it also means that I don't just look to romantic relationships to hold me accountable, validate me, inspire me, or be reflections of deep love. I am often in love with my confidantes, even as we do not share sexual relationships at this point.

the “polyamory” that i've mostly been asked to discuss/accept within friendships & romances is that of having other romantic partners. The radical feminist in me sends red flags & rings alarm bells when cisgendered men initiate exploration of multiple hetero relationships (ie- mostly with womyn). So often, the first major question that echoes in my mind is: why do you seek out so much sexualized attention from womyn? Why is a singular partner not enough? [To be clear, although i've mostly seen a lot of failures of polyamory, I have also observed some successes, primarily in queer relationships (and even a couple hetero partnerships). But the few that have seemed to work have been due to some serious clarity within the individuals involved.]

Another question that arises for me is- Why is it so difficult for cis-men to have non-sexualized friendships with womyn, particularly those that hold them accountable? This came up often in my past relationship, as my former partner admitted somewhere along the line that he sexualized most cis-womyn he encountered, and gave attention based on this. He had to actively, consciously work to change this habit within himself.

I am curious about the sexualized signals that get exchanged between myself and others, particularly when I read the energy of individuals who have solid singular partnerships. Sometimes that energy is clearly beyond playful flirting, and it communicates a willingness to explore something sexual, if I wanted that. I have almost no deep non-sexual relationships of accountability with hetero cis-men; sexual energy tends to come out, regardless of my lack of interest, and then I feel as though i'm being heard or not heard based upon my response to being sexualized.

so, for anyone interested in or exploring polyamory: what are the unmet needs of the singular relationship that sparks a need/desire for multiplicity of sexualized attention/lovers? Is there an avoidance of vulnerability happening? Is intimacy too scary? Does juggling feel powerful? Does it help to split thoughts and mental/emotional time, so no one person gets too much? Is attachment easier to quell when there are other people tossing through the mind and the sheets?

Although I am critical, I also have a deep compassion for anyone looking to be known, understood, valued, loved. I have seen many people yearn for polyamorous relationships because they don't seem to have strong connections with friends or family. They look to the realm of romance and sex to meet these needs, instead of considering that deep, accountable relationships don't have to exclusively look like that. We all need intimacy, and we all need it with more than one person. But how do we define intimacy? What are our patterns, and how does society define it for us?

PART TWO

When i'm starting to feel vulnerable with someone (in a romantic sense), I often have to calm my own tendencies to try to run away or find a fling or distract myself with x/y/z. This process hinges on my internal commitment to being mindful; the need for distractions arises in me when I start feeling too attached. And I am in the process of learning what that looks like, how to feel/understand/change my habits of attachment, projection, and blame.

So I admit a bit of disappointment, when my lovers and my confidantes create situations with multiple lovers and don't seem to know what their intentions are in doing so, what they are needing, what they are inevitably asking others to participate in. This is amazingly commonplace in my life, and runs the gamut of pretty mild to wildly dramatic. We really really need to re-define our notions of open relationships, polyamory, monogamy.

I am critical of the ways in which we each avoid looking deeper at ourselves, and how in general, we look to romantic relationships to escape something. Why do we need to be attractive to someone else, in order to feel validated? Why do we compromise so many other aspects of our lives when someone steps in and romances us? Why do we tell ourselves that our needs and desires are shameful or wrong, when the spectrum of desire is rather endless?

I am in the process of redefining my own desire, reclaiming it as something that is truly liberating, even if others seek to define it otherwise. Right now, in my life, I am interested in creating deep relationships that teach me, hold me to a standard of accountability, are open and vulnerable and creative, and amaze me with each step of their unfolding. Those deep relationships are places I can be real, even in my sad exhausted moods, insecure modes, unexplored weaknesses, or grumpy judgmental days. These kinds of relationships help me laugh at myself, celebrate my life, and connect me to something so much bigger and greater than myself. These kinds of relationships also pass through times of great discomfort and challenges, where we come out on the other end closer & stronger for having the courage to face them & move through them.

I am so grateful to have a handful of confidantes with whom I share these relationships, and I don't have energy or time for many more. I bond primarily with other womyn and trans folks in deep friendships and queer community, and that becomes a big aspect of my self-definition of polyamory in some ways. If I choose to date a cisgendered man, those relationships with my confidantes are ones that they are likely not going to be a part of.

what I have to offer in a deep romantic relationship depends on where the spaces overlap. I pay attention to how similar (or different) desires are- without any type of request/restriction put upon them. For any relationship of depth, it doesn't make sense for me to impose immediate limitations. I feel a need to observe where the other person's desires unfold, and how they handle it. This tells me a lot about where other people are naturally inclined, what they are gravitating towards on their own. I learn so much from how they act, respond, check in, communicate, what they offer, what they follow through with, how well they know their intentions, or don't. This tells me a lot about the presence or lack of middle ground. My imposition of limitations on relationships tends to be a response to having my boundaries ignored or trespassed.

I have learned from past experiences that it doesn't feel good to push hard on people i'm close to. We all make mistakes, act selfishly or ignorantly, and show weaknesses. i am willing to ask difficult questions and express judgments, but the onus of responsible decision-making is on each of us individually. I resist continuing close relationships when I see someone being chronically dishonest or self-deceptive, as I want my presence in relationships to be encouraging & empowering, because that is my best & favorite way to be. I do not want to be anyone else's moral compass, as that unloads the other person's responsibility for being disciplined & self-aware onto my shoulders, and puts me in a restrictive role. For this reason, I cultivate deep relationships of trust where I truly feel close to people because of who they are right now, not who they might become some day. It is about keeping our eyes wide open, seeing eachother for real, & continuously getting clear with our intentions.

8.20.12

burning the old year by naomi shihab nye

Burning the Old Year

Letters swallow themselves in seconds.   

Notes friends tied to the doorknob,   

transparent scarlet paper,

sizzle like moth wings,

marry the air.

So much of any year is flammable,   

lists of vegetables, partial poems.   

Orange swirling flame of days,   

so little is a stone.

Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,   

an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.   

I begin again with the smallest numbers.

Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,   

only the things I didn’t do   

crackle after the blazing dies. 

from Words Under the Words: Selected Poems (Far Corner Books, 1995) 

a duet of owls

the dreams were really clear & strong last night... 

i boarded this small plane with other folks to fly to izzi's birthday. (which is- in waking life- tomorrow). there were other friends who got on a second small plane. we take off & start flying through trees and zipping around, pretty low to the ground, alongside rivers.  it's daytime.  the wings are different, i think they're moving slightly. they have some strange coating on them. oh actually, i think i'm looking at wings covered in feathers. then i realize that WE ARE IN A GIANT OWL. i can see what it looks like from the outside because the “plane” we're following is also an owl. 

we are flying and diving and darting one after the other, it's like a playful game. what started off a little strange for a plane ride became super fun & exhilarating. when we reached our destination, i went to the front to meet the womyn pilot.  she didn't have a front window, like airplanes do. instead, there was a built-in small colorful stage. she told me that people who fly on/in the owls are encouraged to create performances while flying, then present them to the other passengers. i'll remember this for next time, i thought.

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trying to find an appropriate image for this dream, i began looking up owl photos.  the many types of owls look distinctly different from one another.  i settled on the short-eared owl, since it looked most like my dream & also flies during the day.  photos of dueling short-eared owls