Commitment

“Polyamorists love commitment so much, they commit to multiple people.”

I was recently asked an interesting question: What does commitment look like in polyamory? 

In general, commitment can be summarized as ‘an agreement, promise, pledge, or decision to do something or to be a part of something’. Some commitments can restrict us from doing things, or limit our choices. Other commitments give us direction, stability, and the clarity we need to pursue a path or goal. In a relationship commitment means we have negotiated an agreement and are now dedicating ourselves to following it. 

For the first 20 or so years of my dating life I was monogamous. I would meet someone, date for a bit, and then at some point we would have a conversation about ‘going steady’, or we would become ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’. At no point did we discuss exactly what this meant. My experience being raised in a monogamous home life and culture had taught me that commitment meant romantic and sexual exclusivity, prioritizing the relationship with my partner over my hobbies, career, and any other social relationships, and showing up for my partner in any way that they needed me to. So that’s what I did. 

When I was practicing solo-polyamory I developed deep, long-term relationships that involved showing up for my partners and sharing my time and energy with them. Those relationships no longer involved exclusivity, or a blanket prioritization of the other person’s wants and needs over my own. Sharing myself with multiple partners at the same time taught me the value of understanding, expressing, and holding on to what I needed, and it taught me how to work with my partners to understand how that could fit with what they needed. It taught me how to negotiate.

I have a partner that I have lived with for the last 6 years. After a few months of being together we decided on a hierarchical relationship style where we were each other’s primary partner. There was no expectation of exclusivity, and the wants and needs of our other partners were important, but our relationship was the priority. Simple, right? Fast forward to a few years and a few new relationships later and it was a lot less simple. We had never really talked about what that relationship style meant in terms of our actual commitment to each other, or to the commitments we might make in our other relationships. We had not clarified where any priority applied, or where it didn’t, or how to go about making adjustments to our agreement as other relationships in our lives became more important. We hadn’t negotiated; we had assumed. And because of that we have now spent the last few years trying to negotiate how our commitment to each other actually applies to our day to day life.

To be clear, I do not think this is a bad thing. First, we had no real idea what we were committing to. We didn’t know what we didn’t know. Knowledge comes from experience, and neither of us had any personal experience with what commitment could look like in a partnered polyamorous relationship. We had read the books and learned the words and listened to the conversations, but we hadn’t learned how to apply that information and align it to our wants and needs. Second, we couldn’t predict the future. We had no way of knowing who would come into our lives, and how that could change what we wanted for ourselves, for each other, or for our other partners. And third, even without the influence of other partners, we were going to change over time, both as individuals and in our relationship,  and we hadn’t considered what that might look like. In most cases agreements need to be reviewed and adjusted regularly, to ensure that they are meeting the changing and growing needs of all parties involved.  We needed to learn how to do that. 

So what does commitment look like to me now, in my polyamorous life? It means actively and intentionally negotiating commitment as an agreement that considers the wants and needs of both parties. It means allowing space within those agreements for growth and change. And it means a regular review of those agreements to ensure they are still working, and having the ability to adjust them if a change is needed. 

Letting Go of “Primary”

“Collaboration has no hierarchy. The sun collaborates with the soil to bring flowers on the earth.” – Amit Ray

If you have been following my journey, you will know what a struggle this one has been for me. When I made the move from solo-polyamory to partnered polyamory I made a lot of assumptions about what that move meant. We both did. And we have been learning over the last several years that some of those assumptions weren’t the same, and that some don’t fit how one or both of us want to operate now. 

The most basic definition of hierarchy is “a system or organization in which people or groups are ranked one above the other according to status or authority”. Hierarchy exists everywhere. From political or religious structures, to families, to nature, everything has a ranking system. Even our own bodies are hierarchical, from cells all the way up to organ systems. We are surrounded by it, born to and raised in it, and it is such a consistent part of our lives that most of us don’t even question the need for it. 

But does that mean hierarchy should also exist in our relationships? 

170 years ago the world I live in would have looked very different. My parents would have found a man for me to marry (probably in exchange for some kind of livestock or other trade goods) and I would have moved from their home to his. Instead of answering to them I would answer to him. We would have had children, and possibly farmworkers, who would answer to him, and then only in his absence, to me. I would have lived my life as part of a hierarchy based on sexism, racism, and socioeconomic status and never would have questioned if there was another way. 

The world has changed a lot since then. It still has a long way to go, but it is trying. And one of the areas that is changing the most is relationships. 

I was lucky enough to be raised by parents who taught me that women are equal to men, and that the value you bring to a relationship isn’t your money or status, it is who you are as a person. My parents ran our home together, and if anything my mom was the authority, not my dad. Yes, my dad had a higher income and my mom spent my younger years at home raising kids, but it could not have been more obvious that my mom never felt or acted like she answered to my dad in any way. The concept of rank never entered their relationship, and because that is how I grew up, the idea of hierarchy within a two person relationship has never existed for me. My relationships are partnerships, and always have been.

So why is it so difficult for me to apply that same principle to polyamory? 

The best answer I can give is fear. Fear of being superseded. Fear of not having a say in decisions that are being made. Fear that my wants and desires will not be as important as someone else’s. Fear that I will not be as important as someone else. Fear of being replaced, discarded, or ignored.

The exact same fears a secondary partner feels in a hierarchical relationship. 

Are my fears more valid because I started dating my partner first? Should they hold more weight because we live together? Or spend more time together? Or sleep together most nights? Am I entitled to demand more from my partner than they give to any other partner simply because we have been together longer? Do I get to put rules and limits on their relationship so that I can feel safer in my own? Should my vote count for more, just because I’ve had one longer? 

The answer to all of these questions is no. 

We have already made huge strides towards egalitarian polyamory. I have no decision making power over my partners other relationships, and he has none over mine. We express our thoughts, opinions, and feelings, sometimes very emphatically and dramatically, but ultimately the decisions we make are our own, and are the ones we as individuals feel are best for each relationship. Sometimes one of us is hurt or left out in the decision, and sometimes the metamour is. There are no vetoes or hard limits, and we continue to push the boundaries of what each of us is comfortable with. It isn’t always easy, and some boundaries have moved faster than others, but it is a constant work in progress, and blanket “no”s never enter the picture. Do we choose each other more often than we choose others? Yes, for now at least. But it’s not because of a title we’ve given our relationship, or a set of rules we’ve imposed on it. It’s because as individuals that’s where we are choosing to focus our time and attention. 

I haven’t been practicing hierarchical polyamory for a while now. So why is the title that comes with it still so important to me? I have already let go of the control and privileges that come with it, so why do I still need the word, even knowing that it holds no meaning? Is the appearance of status and authority still important to me, even though the actual status and authority doesn’t come with it? 

Apparently. And now it’s time to let go of that too. 

What’s in a name?

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose/By any other name would smell as sweet.” – William Shakespeare

Daughter, sister, friend. Student, girlfriend, jock. Employee, passenger, performer. Investor, mother, steward. These are just some of the many, many names and titles I have had over the years. The labels I have worn.

All of these labels refer to the same person, and each one expresses a different aspect of that person. We hear them listed during award presentations and at funerals as a means of expressing to the audience what the person has accomplished during their life. We use them when introducing someone to a stranger, to quickly and succinctly express what the relationship is. And we use them in our own minds, to categorise people so we can keep track of what our responsibilities to them are. 

Labels express successes, aspirations, connections, and expectations. 

When I took on the title of solo-poly it meant my main focus was myself. I came first. I loved my partners, I was committed to them, and I learned to adjust to their needs without giving up pieces of myself. I learned to adapt and grow and add more pieces without giving up anything that I wanted to keep as a part of myself.

Eventually I met someone who fit me so well that we made the decision to practice partnered poly together. Whatever the label you use is, whether it’s Wife, Husband, Primary, Life Partner, or something else, I feel like it defines an inherent hierarchy that comes into play when you have that conversation and choose to practice polyamory together, as a couple, rather than continuing to practice it alone alongside each other, as solo-poly. 

This does not mean that feelings have to have a hierarchy, or that there is a cap on how much you can become with your other partners, or that things like veto powers come into play. It simply means that when making big decisions or working through difficult issues that this person will be consulted first, and that their opinions or feelings may carry more weight in your decision making. Other partners will also be consulted, and their opinions or feelings will win out sometimes. The main partner will not always get what they want, or be given permission to make unreasonable demands. It just means that they are a slightly bigger part of the decision making pie, and that this is a thing that is known by all parties.  

Is labelling things like this the right way to look at partnered poly, or is this just another possessive controlling holdover from monogamy that needs to be released? Should everyone just be some version of “partner”, without any hierarchy? What happens when another relationship starts to fit the same definitions you are applying to your primary person? How do you handle it when you and your partner can’t agree on what that label means, or even which label should be used? 

I genuinely don’t know if I am capable of operating without my own label, and that worries me. I have a need to know where I stand with people, and what priority they are giving me over others, so that I can adjust my expectations and behaviours accordingly. How do you interact with your partners, with other members of your polycule, with your family, and with your community when neither you nor anyone else understands what commitments you have made to one another? How do you present yourself to the world without a title that lets them know who you are to each other? Should titles and labels and status matter in the world? Probably not. But do they? In the world I live in? Absolutely. 

Do I expect the promise of forever? No, I never have, and probably never will. Life has taught me that nothing lasts forever, and I am OK with that. Things change, people grow, together and apart, and it is impossible to predict or control how that will happen. Which means labels will change too. Do I want that promise, that commitment, right now? Yes. Do I want our title to reflect what I feel our relationship is today? Absolutely. Is it more important to me than actually getting to be with my partner? No. I am only half of the decision making equation, and we are not currently in the same place on this. Which is hard, and means that at some point one or both of us will need to adjust. But sometimes that’s what growing is, and sometimes we need to wait for the right time for it to happen. 

What Are You Looking For?

“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” – Carl Gustave Jung

“What are you looking for?” I get this question a lot. From people who don’t know me at all to people who know me very well. It is a great question, and I often answer it a little differently depending on who is asking.

I have a fantastic life and I am the happiest I have ever been. I have a good career, own my home, and have successfully ushered my offspring into early adulthood. I have a decent relationship with my family, have amassed an impressive collection of books, board games, and hobby supplies, and so far have avoided any long term debilitating illnesses or injuries. I have a sexy and supportive primary partner, a truly beautiful group of friends, and am part of a community of people that embrace me for who I am. Life is very, very good. 

So what am I looking for? 

A big part of getting to where I am now was learning a few things along the way, and those things are as valid and important now that I am in a wonderful place as they were when I first learned them.

  1. It is unreasonable to expect one person to provide everything you need. This is true no matter what the relationship – romantic, friendship, or family. People are beautiful complex creatures, and we all come with a mess of needs, wants, and issues that are more than some of us can handle on our own. How is it fair to expect only one other person to be able to help us with all of that, when all of us can barely help ourselves? Western society likes to tell us “it takes a village to raise a child”, but why does that stop once you grow up? If anything your needs are more complex and diverse, so it only makes sense that it will take more and different people to meet them all. 
  1. I want to continue to grow and evolve as a person. Life is great right now, but that is the way it is because of all the work I did and all the changes I made to get here. It didn’t just happen overnight, and it won’t stay this way if I just leave it alone.  Everything changes, whether you want it to or not, so trying to stay the same means getting left behind. That doesn’t mean racing forward and leaping into every new thing that crosses my path, but it also doesn’t mean slamming the door on anything different or scary. I want to grow and evolve and see what else I can see/do/accomplish, not just stagnate where I am. 
  1. I crave new input. New experiences, new ideas, and new people. I firmly believe that who we are as people is made up of the things we have experienced and the people we have experienced them with, good or bad. Every person we share time with becomes a piece of us, shapes us, and ultimately determines who we are going to be next. Allowing new people in means getting to see the world through a new set of eyes, being introduced to new activities or ideas, and having the opportunity to learn new things about myself. 

So what am I looking for? I am looking for people who bring something new and worthwhile to my life, be it a romantic connection, a friendship, or an experience. My hope is that these will all be positive additions, connections that increase the size of my “village”, but even if they aren’t they are still things that I can learn from. They will still become a part of me, either treasured memories to bask in later or painful moments that teach me something new. 

Dating Depression

“You know, you can only actually help someone who wants to be helped.” – Jojo Moyes 

My first experience with dating and depression was when I found myself dating an old high school friend while I was battling depression. I was not aware that this was what I was going through at the time, but looking back at it now I was smack dab in the middle of what turned out to be a 10 year fight I didn’t know I was fighting. 

Large portions of that time and that relationship are gone from my memory, and the ones that remain are jumbled and confusing. I know we connected again through facebook, that he was living out of town at the time, and that he was the one who made all the effort to try and make things work. I don’t think it lasted very long, or that we saw each other very often, and I can’t remember what words or feelings we exchanged. I know I hurt him badly because he won’t speak to me now, but I can’t remember how or why. 

Depression, in all of its forms, is a mood disorder that affects the ability to function in day-to-day life. For many this includes feeling empty, hopeless, or numb; feeling restless, irritable, or anxious; thoughts of death or suicide; having low self esteem or feelings of guilt and worthlessness. For others it can mean difficulty concentrating or making decisions, low energy, changes in appetite or weight, headaches, sexual dysfunction, aches and pains, digestive problems, and unusual sleep patterns. It can result in agitation, irritability, an increased use of drugs or alcohol, self destructive behaviour, isolation, loss of control, and uncontrolled rage. 

My depression lasted a long time because I wouldn’t acknowledge it, and if you won’t acknowledge something you can’t deal with it and get better. It wasn’t until I was in my early 30s that I started to see how much life I was missing out on living under this blanket of confusion and pain and fear. I’m sure there were people along the way who tried to help me, to talk about what I was going through, but I was so tightly wrapped up in it that ultimately I was the only one who could find my way out. So I reopened the old trauma wounds, explored all their dark and painful pockets, and did the work to clean them out enough that they could finally heal. The scars will always be there, and occasionally show in unexpected reactions or behaviour, but now shiny new skin has grown over them, and I can live and love as a whole person again. 

Not everyone has a type of depression that can be “healed”. My depression came as a result of unresolved trauma and is commonly known as situational depression. Some people suffer from clinical depression, which can still be caused by trauma, but can also come from physical factors, genetics, or from disturbances in the levels of certain chemicals in the brain. Clinical depression can last for a long time, and can even be a lifelong diagnosis.

Several years ago I entered into a long term relationship with a man who masked his depression very well. So well that for a long time he was even able to mask how bad it was from himself. He was a writer, a performer, and he presented himself as a high energy, social, excited about life person. And at the beginning he was, because that was who he wanted to be. He knew he had lots of issues and trauma to deal with, and sometimes they would come out as bad days or short periods of isolation, but those were on the ‘one day’ list of things to work on, not something he wanted to or was ready to deal with now.

The longer they stayed on that list, the more they affected him. We were very much in love, but in the end that didn’t really matter, because love isn’t the answer to depression. Our relationship became about me giving, and him taking. Not because he wanted to take, but because he was so knotted up inside that it became impossible for him to free up anything to give, and taking was all that was left to keep us connected. Our life became about what he needed, what he wanted to do, and what he was capable of. Our relationship stopped moving forward, and I ran out of things to give. I started pushing for the things I wanted and needed, and eventually he ended things. There was simply no energy left for me when it was all being used to hold his demons at bay. 

I took some time after that relationship to do some work on myself, so that I wouldn’t let another person put me through what I had just gone through, and so I could support the next person a little better. That was when I started to learn what was in my power to control, and what wasn’t. I went back to dating and kept picking the same guy I always had – the performer/musician/actor, or the funniest/loudest/most popular guy in the room. I have always been a sucker for charisma. But this time I recognized something common in all of them; they all had depression they weren’t dealing with. The charm and noise and show were all just very loud versions of masking, to hide from themselves and from the world all the shit they weren’t dealing with. This doesn’t stop me from wanting to be with them, or even from falling in love, but now I know enough to know what I can help with, what I can’t, what is because of me, and what has absolutely nothing to do with me, who I am, or how they feel about me. 

4 years ago I began a relationship with a man who continues to amaze me by showing me what living with long term depression can actually look like. He received his clinical depression diagnosis over a decade before we met and will most likely live with it for the rest of his life. He doesn’t try to pretend it isn’t there, doesn’t blame the world because he has it, and doesn’t demand that others make accommodations for it. Instead he continues to test the limits of what he can do and handle within it, pushes those boundaries as far as he can and as often as he can, and acknowledges and asks for help when there is something he can’t handle. He quietly and persistently fights a battle every day that most people don’t even know is happening, and he does it with a graceful strength that I hope one day to achieve. He has taught me that it isn’t wanting to help that is important; it’s being there when a person is ready and able to ask for and accept help that is what’s needed. That lesson is a gift I will never be able to thank him enough for giving me. 

I wish I could apologise to that friend from high school, that I could explain to him, with all of the knowledge I have now, what I was going through, why I couldn’t deal with it at the time, and why I wasn’t ready for the help he wanted to give. But that is not how life works. All I can do is forgive myself, forgive the people who have and will hurt me while on their own healing journeys, and hope that one day he might forgive me too. 

Defining “Us”

“When you draw a line in the sand, be careful it is not low tide.” – Dixie Waters

Note: Due to the nature of this article it will be rife with Polyamory terms. I have included the definition I use for each term below, rather than stopping to explain them in the article.

Every relationship is unique, and is defined by the people involved. In most monogamous relationships this definition comes from the individuals forming the couple, and may include influences from their culture, their family, or their friends. In polyamorous relationships there are more factors influencing how a relationship is defined; the type of polyamory you are practising, if there is a polycule involved, the configuration of the polycule, and the needs and feelings of any metamours in that polycule. All of these factors can make it very difficult to define what you are, both to each other and to the world. And it can make it even more difficult to grow and change into something new, as most relationships do.

What does defining your relationship mean, anyway? It is more than just the titles you chose for each other, if you decide to use titles at all. It’s how you interact with each other, both in private and in public; how much, or how little, of your lives you choose to share with one another; how much of your feelings and time you are investing in one another; and how much you decide to let this relationship impact all the other ones you have. It’s about who you want to be as a couple, and how much of a role this relationship will play in your life. It can be flexible, and will likely change over time, but it is an essential part of understanding where you belong with your other person, and with their other people. 

I started my polyamory journey practising solo polyamory, but since that time I have found a person who has become my nesting and primary partner. We came to that decision over time, with much discussion and testing of boundaries, and it is where we are now, but that does not mean it can’t or won’t change in the future. We both understand that relationships are fluid, and require growth, and adaptation. We also both realise that practising polyamory may mean that one day one or both of us may find another partner that fits as well or better than we currently fit each other. It doesn’t seem likely right now, but anything is possible, and part of the way we are practising polyamory is accepting that.

Now that we both have experience having other partners, who have other partners of their own, I am struggling with new questions. How big of a role do your metamours have in defining the relationships you are having with your partners? How much influence do they or should they have on who you want to be as a couple? How much consideration should you give them in the decisions you make as a couple, and how much consideration should they give you? Is it reasonable to expect them to consider you when they make decisions that could affect your relationships? And does the existence of a hierarchical relationship in the polycule mean that any other partners’ feelings, wants, or needs are less important, or can be ignored? 

One of the most important things I try to remind myself of is that my metamours have feelings and wants and needs that they are hoping to have met, and that they deserve compassion and respect, no matter what their relationship is to me or to my partner. Whether it’s a one night fling, an ongoing casual meetup, a deeper longer lasting relationship, or my partner’s primary partner, my metamours have a connection to my partners, and my partner has that connection to them, and those relationships and sets of boundaries and needs deserve my respect. 

My primary partner and I communicate very well, and have chosen to share our relationships with any other partners with each other. Whenever possible we plan our schedules around what works for our other partners. We discuss what is happening in our other relationships with each other, how activities or feelings are developing with those partners, if we are having concerns or doubts about those relationships, and if we have discovered anything new about ourselves from them. When needed we help each other out by talking out issues or giving advice on how to navigate any difficult conversations or situations with our other partners. This is not always easy, and has certainly resulted in some strong emotional reactions that we then have to work through, but it is how we have chosen to approach polyamory. And we always inform our other partners that this is what we do, so that no one is caught by surprise. 

This does not mean that this is how I expect to practise polyamory with my other partners. Would I like it to be? Of course. In my perfect world our full polycule would be in place where we could achieve something like Kitchen Table Polyamory, where any combination of partners and metamours could be spending time together at a party, game night, or other outing. Where we could all give each other advice or tips and tricks on how to make our relationships a little better, and our partners a little happier. Where we can work with our schedules to make sure everyone gets the time they need to grow their relationships. And where everyone involved is comfortable with this. Do I actually expect that to happen? Probably not. Because my wants and needs aren’t the only ones involved here, and because not everyone wants or needs what I do. Some people prefer to keep their worlds separate, to keep one or more relationships separate from the others. Some people do not desire the level of sharing that I do. Some people prefer to work things out for themselves rather than as a group. Some couples prefer to keep their relationship between them, and not share the details of it with others. All of these choices are valid, and deserve the same level of respect that my choices do. 

So how do I define my relationships with my partners? Mostly by asking a lot of questions. I need to know what their wants and needs are, if there are any restrictions on the energy they have to give our relationship, if I should expect sudden changes in schedules or time available, if there are other relationships that will take priority over ours, if there are other demands in their lives that need to be met, what the comfort level is of any metamours involved,etc. I also need to be clear with what my wants, needs, and availability are, and any ways I expect my other relationships to affect this one. When it comes to polyamourous relationships, it’s less about waiting to see how things shake out and more about discussing as much as possible so everyone is going into things with their eyes wide open.

Terms:

Polycule: A network of people who are involved in non-platonic relationships and their metamours.

Metamour: One’s partner’s partner, with whom one is not directly involved

Solo Polyamory: An approach to polyamory that emphasises autonomy and the freedom to form relationships without seeking permission from other partners.

Nesting Partner(s): The partnership(s) that live(s) together, could include 2 or more, and may share financial responsibility of the home.

Hierarchical relationship: A polycule configuration in which there is a primary partnership which takes priority over one or more secondary arrangements.

Primary Partner: In a hierarchical relationship, the partnership with the most involvement, or sometimes the person accorded the most importance.

Secondary Partner(s): In a hierarchical relationship, the partnership(s) in which either by intent or circumstance, are given less in terms of time, energy, commitment and priority than a primary relationship.

Tertiary Partners(s): In a hierarchical relationship, the partnership(s) that are generally quite casual, and/or limited with respect to time, energy, or priority.

Kitchen Table Polyamory: everyone in the polycule is comfortable sitting together at the kitchen table, talking or spending time together, and including each other and possibly children in special events such as birthdays. 

Chasing That Rush

“Every time I go for the mailbox, gotta hold myself down, ‘cause I just can’t wait till you write me you’re coming around” – Katrina and the Waves

I love dopamine. For those who aren’t the research nerd that I am, dopamine is a neurotransmitter that plays a role in how we feel pleasure. It rewards us for pursuing things we don’t have yet, and responds to things that are new or possible. It helps us think, plan, and focus. It affects learning, motivation, sleep, mood, attention, and even pain. It fuels the parts of us that want to explore, discover, chase, find, have and try. And once we have done those things it stops, leaving us looking for the next new thing, our next big ‘hit’.

I’m not rich enough to be a shopaholic, I don’t do drugs, and I’m not jumping out of planes, but over the years I have stumbled onto another way to get that dopamine high – new relationships. The polyamory community refers to it as new relationship energy, but it is more commonly known as the honeymoon period. It’s that time at the start of any relationship where everything is new; new feelings, new stories, new experiences, new people, and in the case of romantic relationships, new sex.  There is a seemingly endless supply of new things to learn, explore, and discover about your new friend, partner, or potential partner, and that intoxicating feeling of connecting with someone new mixed with that rush of new hormones is hard to beat.

So what happens when that high wears off? 

Some people never stop chasing the high. We all know them. It’s that person in your life who makes a new friend or finds a new partner and suddenly their lives become entirely focused around that person. They will cancel existing plans to spend time with them, can’t make new plans without checking first to make sure that person isn’t available, and can’t seem to talk about anything but their new person when you finally do spend time together. Everything in their life becomes about this person. And then the dopamine wears off, the new person becomes less interesting, and they are back to being the friend you used to have. Until the next new person comes along.  

These relationships aren’t only hard on the chaser’s friends, they are also incredibly hard on the chaser’s subject, the focus of their excitement. For a brief period they get to feel like the most interesting person in the world. Like they have found someone who really sees them, likes them, and can’t get enough of them. Until suddenly they are gone. And the subject is left feeling rejected, alone, and in many cases confused about what they did that resulted in this change. And when both partners are caught up in the rush, and are both caught up in that excitement to the exclusion of everything else, it becomes even more complicated, because no one can really explain why things ended. 

I have been in all of these positions. I have been the chaser, I have been the subject, and I have been the friend watching this happen over and over and over again. I have hurt people, I have been hurt by people, and I have watched people I love hurt others and get hurt by others. And it sucks. No matter what position I am in, it sucks. Every time I would think “this one is different, this one will work out, this time the connection will last”. And it wouldn’t. Because even if the potential for real connection was there at the beginning it had been washed away by the flood of dopamine telling me to do everything and have everything and be everything right now. 

One of the most important things I have learned from my wasted years of immersing myself in that rush is to slow down. A lot. Not because I’m trying to ignore the dopamine, but because I’m trying to draw it out, make space around it, and allow actual feelings and connections to grow in that space. To enjoy the rush a little longer, but also to give my new relationships a chance to find a connection within that time that will carry on past the end of the rush. So that other different highs can follow it. Because as great as that dopamine rush is, it absolutely pales in comparison to finding people you really connect with, who actually get you, and who like you for who you are, not just for how you made them feel at the start. And as good as “new” is, attachment, companionship, and if you are lucky enough to find it, love, are so much better. Because once you find those connections you can find new ways to experience that dopamine, together. 

Marriage

“Happiness is only real when shared.” – Jon Krakauer

Historically marriages happened for a lot of reasons, most of them cultural or financial. Sometimes the couple in question had a choice and sometimes they did not, but very seldom did it matter to anyone if they loved or even liked each other. It was expected that at a certain point in life you would fulfill the social contract and enter into the transaction known as marriage. 

Today in most western cultures marriage is seen as the ultimate sign of love for your partner. In many cases there are still legal, social, and economic benefits involved, such as enlarging your family, combining resources to purchase and maintain property, or having the financial support to stay home and raise children, but those are now seen as the benefits of finding someone who you love enough to marry rather than the reason for marriage itself. It is no longer an obligation; now it is a desire. Plus you get to have a big party with presents and cake, and who doesn’t want that, right? 

I have been in love a few times, and at least once in love enough that I did everything in my power to be with that person for the rest of my life. It didn’t work out, but even when it still looked like it would somehow the topic of marriage never came up. Not because I was waiting for him to bring it up, but because it never really crossed my mind as something we needed to consider. We chose each other every day, we made plans for the future, we were happy, and that was enough for me. What could marriage give me that I didn’t already have? 

Over the last couple years a few very close friends have gotten married. These marriages did not occur because my friends are planning to have children, need financial support, are particularly religious, or felt some kind of cultural obligation to tie the knot. They happened because they wanted to be married, not because they needed to be. Because they love each other, and because expressing that love through marriage was important to them.

I love my partner. The reasons I love him could fill a blog post of their own, so I won’t go into that here. Our relationship is the healthiest one I have every been in; we support each other when it’s necessary, make room for independence when it’s not, question and challenge each other to ensure we keep growing as people, plan for the future and accept our pasts, live and own property together, talk about everything, explore new things, and have a fantastic sex and social life. I genuinely can’t think of anything we are missing, and I feel like the very best version of myself when I am with him. Looking ahead I can imagine situations that will present us with challenges, but if we continue as we have been I can’t imagine anything we can’t get through if we try. 

Does all of this mean we should get married? I honestly don’t know. I find the idea of marriage intriguing in a way I never have before. In the past it looked like a trap blocking a person from experiencing new things with different people. Being polyamorous any marriage I entered into couldn’t fall into the standard rules marriages have traditionally followed, which I think on some level is why I have never really wanted it. But what if we could write our own definition of marriage, and make our own rules about what that looks like for us? Create something that makes us both feel protected, loved, and heard, that still involves choosing each other every day, and that leaves room for us to have experiences outside of the two of us. Definitions and rules that grow and change as we do, evolving as our relationship does, supporting and nurturing each other without limiting one another. 

I don’t know if it’s possible, or if it’s different in any way that what we are doing right now, but it sure is interesting to think about. 

Why You Should Try Boudoir Photography

“I’m not here to make you comfortable, I’m here to make you passionate.” – Lebo Grand

First things first, a little bit about me. I am not a model, influencer, or professional photographer. I do not profit financially from my online presence, from promoting others, or from any images of myself that I choose to share. I am a mother, partner, and daughter. I am a professional, a nerdy girl, and a lover of the outdoors. I am over 40, overweight, and over letting any of those things hold me back. 

Boudoir pictures have been around for a long time. Shapely young women, scantily clad, with perfect hair and perfect faces, lounging in suggestive and inviting positions. Power, confidence and sensuality absolutely oozes from their images, challenging any person looking at them to be enough to take them on. Like many of you I have frequently looked at those pictures wishing I could shine like they do. 

You know what? I can. And so can you. 

I have done a lot of work on myself over the last several years, and during that time I have come to know people who have made that journey easier. A few of them were photographers, and between my own growing knowledge of myself and what I had to offer and their skills behind the camera I came to realize one amazing thing – you do not need to be young, shapely, and perfect to be beautiful. Beauty is a state of mind. When a person believes they are beautiful then happiness and confidence radiates from them, and their power and sensuality is undeniable. It has nothing to do with how they look and everything to do with how they feel. 

We all carry within us the ability to get to that place, but that doesn’t mean we can all get there on our own. I didn’t. I had help, a lot of it. There are days when I still need help. Self confidence is a lifelong battle for me, as I am sure it is for many of you. This is where boudoir photography comes in.

Boudoir pictures capture a moment in time, a moment where you were feeling all the best things you want to feel about yourself. They are captured by someone looking at you from the outside, someone who doesn’t see all the flaws and imperfections you do, someone who wants to make you feel as empowered, beautiful, and confident as possible. Someone whose job is to help you feel good about your body. A boudoir shoot is the perfect opportunity to explore and celebrate yourself, and to do it in a fun and relaxed way. Dress up, dress down, wear a lot, a little, or nothing at all. Try a theme or a scene you’ve always loved. Do your pictures on your own, with a friend, or with a partner. Go all out and get your hair, nails, and makeup done, or go all natural. Do whatever makes you feel like the best version of you in that moment.  The experience is as important as the images that come out of it. 

What should you do with the pictures after? Whatever you want! Share them with friends, with partners, or on social media. Put them in your christmas card, hang them in your home, or display them at your funeral. Or do none of those things, and keep them just for you. Look at them on those days when you aren’t feeling good about yourself, when you need a little self healing, or when you need to be reminded of the beautiful, powerful, sensual person that you are. 

Requiem to 2020

Covid-19 has been in our lives for over a year now, and many of us are currently experiencing a second or third lockdown as cases around the world are on the rise. The promise of vaccination exists, but it could be another year or more before our population is protected enough for life to get back to ‘normal’. If ‘normal’ can even exist anymore. 

It’s impossible to say now what the long term repercussions of our first encounter with a global pandemic will be. Which leaves us in a very difficult place; only half way through a marathon period of fear, loss, and waiting, without even knowing exactly what we are waiting for. We are stuck pushing our way to an ending, without any guarantee of what that ending will bring, or when it will occur. So how do we cope when the world around us seems bleak, and we don’t know when the light will come again? How do we find meaning, happiness, and fulfillment in our lives when it feels like everything has come to a grinding halt? How do we get to the end of this race still feeling like ourselves?

I have seen many stories of people who have done wonderful things with this time. People who have learned to become amazing artists, chefs, or writers. People who have immersed themselves in health building activities, who have lost weight, gained muscle, or increased flexibility. People who have taken this time to educate themselves, improve their living spaces, or explore things they have never had the chance to explore before. People who have embraced this challenging time, faced it like warriors on a battlefield, and who have beat it into submission with their success.

I am not one of those people.

2020 was going to be a big year for me. After many years of isolation, a few more years of trying to find a way to fit into someone else’s life, and some time (finally) spent discovering what I wanted, I found myself starting 2020 happy with who I was, the people I had around me, and what my future held. I found hobbies that let me be creative and express myself, friends that embraced who I am and reciprocated by sharing parts of themselves with me, and a partner who was as excited to build a life together as I was. I had reached an age I had always dreaded but found an unexpected peace and acceptance with. My son was going to graduate, and we were going to have the opportunity to celebrate his transition from child to adulthood. I was going to have my first public speaking opportunity on behalf of this blog, and my first ever out of country romantic adventure. I was in the early stages of developing new friendships and relationships that showed lots of promise. And there were going to be several parties, conventions, concerts, celebrations, and get-togethers to help fuel my ever present need for new input. It was shaping up to be a big year. 

Covid-19 hit us in mid-March and everything changed. All of the things we were looking forward to, all of the get-togethers, trips, and events, became things we were afraid of. The simple acts of going to work, getting groceries, or putting gas in our cars became high risk, and introduced a danger into our lives we had never had to consider before. Instead of finding comfort or joy in other people, we had to be afraid of them. The freedoms we loved were now risks we weren’t allowed to take. And while there have been some short periods of relief sprinkled in, most of us have been living like this for the last year. 

Like many people I spent most of 2020 being reactive. I watched the news, followed the rules, and stayed home. My whole life became about watching, listening, and waiting for things to get better. Every time the case numbers went down I would get excited, and every time they went up I would get sad. I had endless discussions with people about how the pandemic was going, how it was affecting them, what the numbers meant, and when things would get better. It became an endless cycle of checking in and waiting, checking and waiting. And not once did I decide to take to accomplish something with all the time I now had. 

Does this mean I consider 2020 a lost or wasted year? Can I no longer consider myself a warrior able to take on any challenge that comes my way? Have I let this pandemic beat me?

No.

2020 was not the year I planned it to be, and I was not the person I always thought I would be in the face of crisis, but that does not mean it was wasted, or that I lost, or have been beaten. A lot of wonderful things still happened, and some of them wouldn’t have without the pandemic. I got to spend more time with my son than I would have otherwise, and was able to be there and help him through something that none of us have ever experienced before. My family had the opportunity to show him, and ourselves, that there are different ways than the ones we have always known to enjoy day to day life, celebrate accomplishments, and support each other through difficult times. My partner and I had more time together than we had ever had before, and had the opportunity to go through something truly difficult together. We learned to recognize, understand, and support stress in each other, which likely would have taken us years to do without something as impactful as a global pandemic. We found new hobbies to enjoy together, new ways to challenge and entertain one another, and truly learned how to relax into our partnership. I was able to reach out to friends and offer support, and in some cases was pleasantly surprised by who offered support in return. Some friendships were difficult to maintain at a distance and are in a holding pattern until we can see each other again, but others flourished in ways I don’t think they would have otherwise.

2020 was a difficult year, because it was a year I entered full of expectation. In the end 2020 taught me the value of embracing and enjoying the things I have right now, showed me the immeasurable love and support that surrounds me, and left me in awe of the way we are all able to adapt and grow in new circumstances. I am now ready to move on from mourning what 2020 could have been, and to more forward looking at 2021 with hope free of expectation.