Alright already

One of the things I have tried to do here is being unflinchingly honest.  I try to tell the truth, maybe ESPECIALLY, about the things that I feel might make me look bad.  I accidentally found this to be a part of my niche in writing a blog.  So here goes.

I’m lonely once in a while.  It’s hard to be here sometimes and I don’t like it.  The price of loving someone who loves someone else is that they need to spend time with them.  Traveler and Quinky Girl need nights together.  Duh.  Generally this is awesome. I like some alone time in my week.  I can count on one hand the times Traveler and I have spent more than 3 nights a week together, and I can tell you each one was bliss.

But this is a thing us single poly’s can have that our married and cohabitating partners don’t.  I didn’t understand this when I was married and I don’t think a lot of partnered poly’s do.  Not really.

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Freedom

*** to avoid serious vague-blogging drama queen stuff… I am completely and utterly okay.  This is an observation of a moment and a snippet of a broader feeling.  It’s just a way to get it out.  I repeat… I am okay.  It’s just expressing a thing.***

All we have to see

Is that I don’t belong to you

And you don’t belong to me, yeah yeah

Freedom, freedom, freedom

You’ve gotta give for what you take

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The Dark at 1am

So, things are pretty good… but I was freaking out a little.  I’ve been spending a lot of time looking at reconstructed breasts and what the hell all of this involves.  And it’s freaking me out a little.  In NOT-unexpected keystone-cop-style awesomeness, the VA lost the consult to finish my genetic testing.  It’s going to take about a month to get results and I have to start over.  The office that recommends where to get the test is overwhelmed and can’t recommend where I need to go.  So I spent a bunch of today looking at websites for genetic testing centers and oncology departments and trying to figure out how to gauge such things.  Then I spent a bunch of time last night and tonight looking at reconstructed breasts and procedures.  I had been laughing and amusing myself with the idea of perkier, bigger augmented breasts as a reward for all of this BRCA gene bullshit.  But that’s not really accurate is it?  I might end up with breasts that don’t have nipples.. or surgeries that remove muscle and fat from my stomach to make new breasts, or weeks of inflating tissue expanders under my “breasts” to make room for implants under my chest wall to make new breasts, AFTER mastectomy and a surgery to preserve nipples, if I’m lucky.  Is it just me or does all of that sound like a horror show?

And the pictures.  They are freaking me out a little.  I don’t like getting fillings in my TEETH because I hate being vulnerable.  What the fuck am I going to do if I have to spend months removing and making new breasts??!?  Deep breath.  I’d live.   Continue reading