Coming Out Sideways

If you don’t deal with feelings they don’t come out the regular way and instead burst a hole to the side, creating a lot more wreckage.

I’ve heard people say they never get jealous and you know.. I don’t usually like to be so harsh.. but fuck you and your self righteous bullshit. I know, I know. I’ll probably get emails or messages about how “no.. I am a special and unique human being and I never get jealous. I might be insecure at times, or something far less stigmatized than jealousy, but I don’t get jealous”.

The people I have really known who say things like this tend to have a jealousy problem. It’s like people saying they hate drama. Drama creators are usually the people you hear vocally spewing about hating all these people with all this drama. They whip everyone around them into drama filled scenes and then moan about the drama, never owning that they draw it to themselves. You can’t stop being a drama llama if you think the drama is always everyone else. I know that I am the maker of most of the drama in my life, either directly or indirectly playing my part, and that’s the first stop toward unraveling drama.

Jealousy is much the same. I don’t care how evolved you are. You will feel jealous at times and if you own it, understand it and will look at it, you won’t stomp over the tender hearts of all in your midst as you passively aggressively exert your desire for control and relief from your jealousy.

We can plan out too, and think how okay things are, only to find these ugly little surprises. All of a sudden we’ll have this thought, or this fear, and that is okay if we can deal with it directly and maturely.

Most of the time I really love watching Traveler fuck a woman we are with. I love seeing his passion from another side. I love knowing how she feels. I love watching their pleasure. It’s hot. But of course I’ve had little moments. I will have more I am sure. Once when it happened I realized it was me pulling away and got back in there and helped. What is NOT okay would be bursting into tears and slamming the door as I storm out in an emotional explosion. It’s okay if later I need to curl up and ask for extra kisses or need to talk about my feelings with my partner or a friend.

In poly I see it often as people display their jealousy by getting territorial or reactive and emotional or withdrawn. Sometimes it involves a lot of insecurity, and sometimes people hide from their jealousy and say they are just a little insecure for a moment.  They do little meddling things to fuck with each other. They keep score. They try to exert control in the other relationship. They get petty. They try to make sure they are given better or best or more. They try to limit others, or sabotage even. I have seen it over and over. It’s corrosive when ignored and even more so when denied, and for what? Foolish pride?

Jealousy is not inherently bad. It can be used as a healthy signal for self-examination and a sign that there is a need to be met. I hate the bad rep jealousy gets because it isn’t all bad and it can be a really helpful and healthy reminder.

But I’m telling you… jealousy is a dirty bomb when allowed to explode. Get it out, or it’s coming out sideways.  Just sayin’

 

It’s hard

I can’t stand being emotional and hurt by other’s emotions.

I hate it when the people I love are angry and distant and strange.  I hate it. I spent half of July 4th not understanding why Traveler was being grouchy and surly. He kept asking me where a wine from his basement was from and I kept saying I don’t know, maybe Quinky bought it? It looks like it’s from Oregon?  It’s from 2008, were you there then? It says it’s from Oregon. Look, the winery is in Oregon.

He snapped that he knew it was from Oregon and I’d said that 5 times, and I walked upstairs like a kicked puppy. Continue reading

True Colors

I can’t believe how corny this is, but I just listened to True Colors by Cindy Lauper a bunch of times in a row.  There’s life just being life really, the things of loving and working and sleeplessness and school, but it’s just that it’s the end of a day where I worked 12 hours to turn in my big paper.  I just miss my dad.

Fuck, I miss my dad.  I miss the way he loved Cindy Lauper.  He loved her so much.  Here he was, this 40 year old Dad and he was just so tickled by a song my friends and I listened to.  He’d laugh and smile and smack his leg.  “Oh man!  Look at that Holly!  Look look look! Is that a chandelier on her head?”.  It’s funny to watch the video again.  He just got such a kick out of her.  But her song said something too.
You with the sad eyes
Don’t be discouraged
Oh I realize
Its hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small
Sometimes you just need home.  Sometimes you get lost and your cheeks hurt from salt and you are so bone wearyingly tired.  I end up longing for memories of a grandmother I didn’t have.  I miss my dad, playing guitar and singing like Bob Dylan, only somehow more screechy.  I miss my dad playing Cindy Lauper’s records and the way he was sad and comforted by her song. I think when you loose someone it’s just that time wears off the edges of the thing so it cuts less, but every now and then you find a burr.  I miss him like it was yesterday.  And everyone misses the people that they lost in this unique and lonely way.

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Difficult to Love

I have to admit that all my reading and writing has belonged to grad school, but I’m here and I’m thinking of you.  I do a lot of thinking these days.  I can’t stop thinking about this tonight.  I talked to a friend going through a break up from a terrible man, and this kept running in my head.


<p><a href=”https://vimeo.com/38766162″>Warsan Shire – &quot;For Women Who Are Difficult To Love&quot;</a> from <a href=”https://vimeo.com/movingonworks”>MovingOn</a&gt; on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>

You are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?

closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.

It doesn’t directly relate to my life right now, but I feel it. I have spent my entire life trying to be smaller and easier and simpler and less of a pain.  I can remember, one of my first memories and one of the few of my mother in early childhood, she was suddenly there and her face was evil red and she grabbed my arm and yanked me up by it.  I had been laughing at something.  I found something hysterical.  I have no memory of what it was.  Maybe it was a cartoon or a game I was playing with a doll.  I had been laughing in the sunbeam streaming in the living room window and then suddenly her red angry face was inches from mine as she yelled at me to stop it, that my laughter was too much and would I please just shut up.  And suddenly I was crying wracking silent sobs.  I felt so ashamed and I could see this was making her madder.  I knew I needed to just shut up but I was overwhelmed with tears.  She looked at me like I was a disgusting vile thing and dropped me and walked away.

Another time, playing with friends, we were playing house and I was the mama and my two friends were my kids.  They made me a drawing and brought it to me and I got so overcome in my fake mama role with the joy of their present and their love of me that I rushed to hug them and kiss them.  So charged was I with the intensity of wanting to love on my pretend children, I knocked my friend over and kissed her face over and over again until she shoved me off of her and stood up, infuriated.  “What is WRONG with you!  Jesus.  Holly.  You are too much”.  They both shot me a look and walked out of my room and out of house and away.

My best friend’s birthday party.  I excitedly watched her opening her presents and was thrilled that I had bought the most presents for her and wrapped them all individually in the years of Christmas wrapped paper and home made wrapping I’d decorated.  After a couple of presents people were looking at me funny.  What happened?  What was wrong?  Melissa got up and asked me to go talk.  “That’s so embarrassing.  Why did you do that?  Do you want people to think we are lesbians?  Damn it, Holly.  Too much.

I felt sometimes like everyone had a book about how to be that I didn’t.  I thought for a long time that my mother had left because I was so infuriating.  I thought my father was depressed so much when I was a child because I was a shitty daughter.  He told me he hadn’t been able to meet anyone because of me.  I think he meant being a single father made dating hard, but I heard “because you are defective nobody wants to be your step-mother”.

I tried to be simpler and easier and to care less about everything.  I was a disaster with the first guys I dated and I got hurt.  It happens.  I’ve learned and learned and learned and learned and it’s been HARD work.

But I know I’m still a little difficult to love.  And maybe that’s okay.  Maybe I *am* a little difficult to love, and maybe there will be people, as there have been and are people who are up to the task.  I am a lot, but sometimes people want a lot.  Maybe you are a bit much too, and maybe there are people in your life or in your future that are looking for something a bit much.

 

The Crystal Ball Broke

 

It starts out whole, crystal clear and flawless.  It begins.  It is honed and shined and unblemished.  You made it and it’s beautiful. And then it comes, the first little crack. You said that and they knew what you were doing.  A small occlusion from the jarring.  But it wasn’t that bad. The sun still glints the same way.  The ribbon of refracted light is still perfect.

crack.

crick.

crack.

broken glass

mgtvwsls.files.wordpress.com

And the light bends.  The rays just don’t fall the same.  You’re losing colors..violet.. blue.. fading in your rakishly high tales.  It’s still shiny and see through.  It’s still beautiful.  It’s still a treasure.  The weight and heft are left.  The shape is still smooth.  You can see the ribbon in there but we all think it’s okay.  It’s just the tiniest bit of damage.  And you’re sorry.  That was a one time thing, right?  We were just scared or sorry or confused or not ready.  We were thoughtless.

snap.

crack.

The little bitty cracks add up though.  Each one is like a teeny ball peen hammer.. ting… ting…

It’s a small deep crevice there in the middle.  The rainbow leaves.  But it’s still bright.  It’s still light.  It slides and tumbles in your hand. We whistle in our fake nonchalance.  It’s fine.  It’s fine.  Still so smooth.  But is that a rift?

CRACK!

snip.

tinkle.

The rift has reached the edge and you can feel the craze.  Your fingers worry it like a loose tooth.  They run over it and over it but they can’t make it smooth.  It’s there.  And you’re losing light.  It’s getting trapped in there, bouncing around off of the things you broke, the jagged edges in there.  You tell another one.  It’s easier now and though the consequences are more dire, you’re less concerned.  Do you not see it?  Or do you just care less?

CRACK….. snap… tinkle.

A sliver is shaved off and falls.  The rift has veins in several directions now, so much closer to the surface, and the ragged creviced edge has its own facets.  Do you not know how to stop it?  Do you not see it?  A whole side is gray and lifeless, unreachable.  The light that enters mostly dies.  And it feels inevitable, doesn’t it?  You say another one, another.  You can’t even smile while you do it anymore, can you?  Do you shrug?  Do you sting?  Is it like you can’t help yourself? Or are you numb?

We point our palms at the ground and our walk works to pulverize the shards.

 

The Cats Will Eat Me…

I really dislike my brain sometimes.  I woke up this morning with my brain churning a little.  I noticed it and realized what was happening.  Every now and then I start spinning about something.  I used to see Great Date do this, and it’s how I finally realized I did it too.

Sometimes it’s fear.  Sometimes I feel a little afraid and my mind casts about to understand my fear.  The house is not on fire.  The cats are okay.  Maybe I had a nightmare I don’t remember.  I don’t know, but my mind is an unkind place.  I cast doubts around about my worth.. my friendships.  I chew on the edge of my relationships.  I pull up reasons I should be afraid or sad or that things could be bad.  I pull up real and imagined evidence for how I suck.  I tell myself mean things.  I am the voice in the dark.

catsI’ve learned over time that this is just me petting a worry stone.  I can spin up elaborate bad things, and I know it.  I’m cherry picking the little rotten things to make problems that don’t exist.  I’m fine.  I’m more than fine.  I’m happy.  I’m here in my quiet apartment with my sweet kitties.  I live in a neighborhood I love.  I live in a city I love.  I have a family that I love that loves me.  I’m making the best choices I can and I’ll be ok. My relationship(s) are good.

And I learned to pull out the anti-venom for poisonous thoughts.

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I'm Actually a Romantic

I have a cold, so maybe this is the meds talking.. but I have to confess that I’m a romantic.  Don’t fucking laugh.  I’m serious.

Even a poly girl.. shit.. maybe especially a poly girl is prone to this.  My heart is huge.  My heart is wide.

Even a poly girl.. shit.. maybe especially a poly girl is prone to this.  My heart is huge.  My heart is wide.

Traveler and I are deeply, madly, passionately in love with each other.  It took 8 billion years, but he says it all the time.  I’ve always been a mush who says it.  Such proclamations don’t come easy to him.  He told me 72,000 ways that he loved me and I finally heard it.  But I needed him to TELL me.  I need the words.  And they came.  They come more easily now.  I need him to say, out loud, what he feels and he does.

And yet, I’ll admit, I have a yearning.  It isn’t because of a lack.  It’s not because Traveler doesn’t go there or isn’t enough.  It’s because of me.

I want more.

I want to find my other love.  I want to watch TV curled up with her, or go to the library on Saturdays with him.  I want to be too lazy on a rainy afternoon together.  I want to hit the art show.  I want to say mushy mushy things to each other with our limbs entertwined.  I want all of it.  Traveler is mine.  He is fully and completely mine even if he isn’t mine alone.  And I am his.  I am utterly and totally his.  But I have this wide wide heart.  I have this well of love that constantly fills, and I want more.

cuddling girls

girls snuggling found at polyvore.com

Even after all these years in open relationships that still feels subversive.  How can I be so greedy?  How can I have this.. THIS!.. and ever want more.  Am I unsatisfied? No.  If the other loves never came I have to admit that would be perfectly okay.  I have my life.  I have my life with Traveler.  And it’s everything.   I told him the other day when we were laying on the couch just laughing and holding each other that I’ve never been loved like this.  I’ve never had a love that held me like that.  He holds me in a way that makes me feel like I am filling.  I am flooded with all the good hormones and I feel myself glow.

We were talking about nothing really, just laughing and petting each other. There wasn’t any music on and the TV was off and we’d be laying there just talking for a long long time and neither one of us wanted out.  I’ve never had that.  I’ve never had the love that doesn’t pull away.  I’ve spent my life apologizing for being too affectionate.  I didn’t know how much that hurt.  I pulled away to sip my wine and he curled around me the second the glass touched down, unconsciously and not breaking the stride of his conversation.  And I lay curled against him smiling and laughing with him until it was getting really late and we needed to go to bed.

And

I have more to give.

The trick is to remain open but not to chase it.  But I’m calling it to me.  I am a greedy lover.  I want the whole thing again.  The first step is admitting it.

I’m a romantic.