Gratitude Season

All month, I've been reading posts on friends' Facebook pages proclaiming things they are grateful for. Once or twice I thought about following suit, since one of the things I tend to do is zone in on things I'm anxious about, or things I want but can't have, instead of things that I do have. But as I'm trying these days to find reasons to get off Facebook instead of being pulled back in, I never joined them. So instead, here is my contribution to gratitude season. I am grateful for...

My Cat
Self-explanatory. I mean, look at her.

My Communities
The support of the bisexual and poly communities are invaluable, and I'm thankful to have the time and energy to put work into them to pass the support along to others.

My Job
This has been one of the toughest four months of my life, but I am employed doing something I (think I still) love doing. I am actually using the degree I will be paying back for many, many years to come. I can make my own weekly schedule, have a college work year with awesome breaks, and can grade in my underwear.

My Family
Despite the stress that comes with parents who do not approve of my relationships or sexuality, I still have their support. I know that there are so many people out there who have been cut out of their families' lives after coming clean about who they are, so I remind myself that no matter how upset I might be at times that I can't share everything, I am still their daughter.

My Friends
The support that my parents can't provide -- the emotional support that is related to living the lives that we live -- has been coming from my network of diverse, caring, loving friends. They are truly my chosen family, and the biggest reason I am reluctant to ever leave what I now refer to as my home.

My Partners
I still can't believe how lucky I am to have them: Joel, who has been my rock and the source of most of my laughter for (almost) five years, and Adam, who continues to give me new reasons to smile every day. They make all the challenges that go along with being poly 100% worth it. (And also happen to be two of the cutest guys I know.)

It might not be a whole month's worth, and there are certainly more things I'm grateful for, like Diet Dr. Pepper, Harpoon UFO White, the Internet, and buffalo chicken pizza. But those are the big ones - the ones I should hang onto when it gets dark just too damned early and I have to cram onto a bus to go home and grade. And to them I should add this: I am grateful that I have the ability to help others who have less than I do. Above all else, I think gratitude season should always remind us of that.

Road to Nowhere: Ignoring Societal Relationship Trajectories

Poly and Partner, sitting in a tree

(I haven't heard this one in a while.)

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

(Might be a little precarious up there, and depending on how high up...eh, I'll allow it.)

First comes love,

(Aren't we jumping ahead a little bit? I mean, first comes lots of talking, cuddling, and processing?)

Then comes marriage,

(Well, erm, this is awkward but, he's sort of already--)

Then comes the baby in a--

(OKAY that's enough. I want down. Someone find me a ladder.)

From the time we are born, rhymes like this one are pounded into our brains. There's of course not the same level of expectation as there was in our parents' generation or their parents' generation, but this trajectory is everywhere nonetheless. We always hear about falling in love with "the one," moving in together, getting married, having children. That's the goal, the end-all-be-all of societal happiness -- which, by the way, is out of reach for single people, couples who don't co-habitate, and the childless (or what I'd rather refer to as "childfree").

It took a long time for Joel's family to come to terms with the fact that I was his girlfriend but we didn't have that trajectory in mind - the years went on and there was no talk of moving in a certain direction, no planning to move in together, no rings. And even though my own parents are happy that I'm focusing on myself after so many years of being focused on my ex's career and what our relationship was doing, they, too, want me to get back on that road to marriage.

And these expected societal trajectories of relationships are a lot of times focused on in poly, too - as stories of ethical non-monogamy trickle more and more into the mainstream, they're very often about domestic bliss, raising children as a community, and planning alternative weddings. But what about those of us who aren't going to follow that trajectory in some or all of our relationships, either by choice or circumstance? What is all this pressure doing to how we view our individual relationships?

A few years ago, I was sad that Joel didn't want to co-habitate. But then as I grew more independent and busy, and we both started to date more, we realized that our setup actually worked pretty well for us. We roll our eyes at our parents, but take solace in the fact that we're enjoying our relationship in the way that is comfortable for us, not in the way that society says should be comfortable for us.

After working through it with Joel, it should have been easy to come into my relationship with Adam in much the same "fuck 'em we'll be who we are" way. But like so many things that come with firecracker-like feelings, it's more complicated than expected. Instead of seeing a lack of trajectory as being freeing, as it has been with Joel, it's sometimes unsettling.  I occasionally think more about what we will never do than of what we will do, or even more disappointing, what we are doing now. It's sad because I miss things. I'll be staring off at the patterns in my textured ceiling dwelling on something unknown while next to me, Adam's just happy to be there.

This is one of those things that made it onto my Poly is Hard list because these trajectories are something I can't escape easily. I want to just cut down the damned tree in the poem so no one has to kiss in it anymore. It is cheering to think back to a time I was sad about my lack of trajectory with Joel, and think about how far we've come. It's also cheering to think that someday I may meet someone whose idea of trajectories are the same as the ones in love songs, if that's even what I still want for my sappy, romantic self someday. But for now, it's hard.

For now, I'll attempt to cope by playing "Road to Nowhere" on repeat and keep telling myself, "Baby, it's all right." I'll attempt to stop staring at the ceiling and look at Adam's ridiculously cute dimples and feel his warm hugs and think of little else than how lucky I am. And I'll remind myself that there are people out there who have followed those societal trajectories of relationships -- I used to be one of them -- and end up not even a fraction of how happy I am with my partners. So maybe the goal to be happy with where we are can be a trajectory in itself, and the destination becomes the journey, the ride, the cuddles, that really good beer, etc.

Sounds corny, yes, and I'm not sure it'll work. But I have to try, because it sure sounds safer than trying to lug a baby carriage up a tree.

Return of the Jealousy Monster

While Adam was out of town with other partners this past weekend, I had a visit from my Jealousy Monster. It arrived on Thursday afternoon, settled in even as I tried to unseat it with a bubble bath and a relaxing evening of reading, and was still gorging happily on envy the next day, making the most annoying chewing sounds - like someone eating potato chips and smacking their lips in an otherwise silent room. My weekend, which was jam-packed with fun things, was at stake. I had to do something. 

In my previous post about managing expectations, I talked about the fact that most of what I know about navigating relationships comes from past experiences. I know, for example, that I fear the unknown, so when I've approached situations involving jealousy before, my first instinct is to have everything laid out in front of me. 

But this time, asking about the fun things he was doing made things worse, especially as I was, at that moment, grading a particularly horrible paper. I tried to explain that maybe I didn't need to know the details, at least not right then, and we even tried to change the subject. But the longer we talked the worse I felt. So I tried the complete opposite of my past inclinations: I told him I had to go. I wished him a good weekend, told him we'd talk when he got home, and closed the chat window. 

The immediate relief I felt was almost startling. Who was I? Wasn't I someone who felt that more communication, not less, was the solution to all problems? Hadn't I hated it in past relationships when the other person had requested a few days of silence? I continued to listen closely for my Jealousy Monster for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, but I couldn't hear him. He wasn't gone, but he was no longer making those annoying chewing sounds.

I took advantage of the silence and enjoyed my weekend. It wasn't that I didn't think about Adam, but I wasn't dwelling on the envy the way I might have if we'd been checking in every once in a while. Instead I focused on those other things that make me happy, and because of it was glad to talk again when he got home. 

I know that the Jealousy Monster is still there, biding its time to come out again, and I feel like before I revert back to my tell me everything inclinations I need to make sure I'm ready to hear it. It's nice, though, to realize there are still solutions to be found, and helpful to recognize that they might be the complete opposite of what was expected. Hopefully next time I'll know ahead of time to focus on what's in front of me that I am doing, rather than wondering what I'm not. 

Dear Past Kate, This Stuff is Hard

As I go back and read some of my previous posts, I feel like I've lied a little bit. Not about the facts, necessarily, but about the feelings surrounding all this hard poly stuff. That's right, folks, poly is hard, and if I've made it seem like solutions to hard problems are tied up nicely in little boxes with rainbow sparkly ribbon, I've been disingenuous. Here's what I would like to say to my past self.

Scheduling is Hard. There's nothing more disheartening than looking at the calendar with someone you want to see as much as possible and realizing that sometimes, there will be more time between dates than you'd like.

Sharing is Hard. At some point, you are going to read a status on Facebook about a partner and another partner and it's going to be so sickeningly cute that you doubt compersion* exists.

Trying to Disentangle Societal Trajectories for Relationships from Your Relationship is Hard. You cannot expect to follow the script of a rom-com. There is no script. You are making this up as you go along, and even though you thought you might never want to follow that trajectory ever again, it's still hard to realize that with some relationships, it's impossible. You have to make a new trajectory or better yet, ignore them altogether.

Acceptance is Hard. You will want to share your NRE with your parents. They will not want to hear about it. You will lie for the benefit of your relationship with them, and it won't feel great.

Change is Hard. Five years ago you didn't even know what poly was. Five months ago you weren't even very actively practicing it. Five months from now your life will have most likely changed again. But this possibility for change is what got you into this in the first place, remember?

The goal, of course, is that on a scale from hard to rainbow sparkles, you end up on the rainbow sparkle side more often. Preferably those rainbow sparkles that catch the sunlight and make rainbows on the walls too. Because you have to remember that while this is hard, this is also what makes you happy, and you no longer can see yourself any other way.

*the state of being happy when a partner is happy, most often when someone else makes that partner happy.

"to cope"

When I looked up "cope" in the dictionary, I found two definitions - the one I expected, and this:

"to meet in combat."

It's so interesting that this word, with roots in Greek and Latin, used to mean (depending on the language) "buffet," "blow," "strike," and "cut," when we now use it to mean "deal with and attempt to overcome problems and difficulties."

Isn't that just like our world today, though? We're less likely to need help buffeting the advances of swordsmen and more likely to need help dealing with hard emotional things. It's like the stress and anxiety and depression have become those swordsmen.

The first thing I thought of when decided what to write for this week was a phrase I've uttered more than once over the last few weeks: "I'm not coping well." I'm to the point in an over-booked semester (please, someone, remind me I can't teach five sections at a time ever again) when I feel overwhelmed by stress. I'm the one valiant knight in the middle of forty opponents at a time, and every time I fight them off forty more appear. And the more than I have to fight, the less able I am to cope - to buffet, to strike, to blow, to cut - effectively. The less able I am to maintain a fighting spirit.

Because that's really what we have to do when we cope, right? Whether it's anxiety, depression, the stress of 90 students, dealing with it all is a fight. Sometimes we're more equipped. Sometimes we even have squires or other knights who have our backs. But it's always a combat of one sort or another. I mean I'm glad, overall, that I'm combating argumentation papers instead of armored warriors, but sometimes I feel like those papers had better training than I in dealing serious blows.

I know I'll be victorious eventually, if not only because the semester has to end at some point. But until then, I'll continue to fight, even if I feel more like the Black Knight by the end.

National Coming Out Day

Friday, October 11, was National Coming Out Day (NCOD). Founded in 1988, this day was created to celebrate the (very often difficult) process of coming out and to raise general awareness for the struggles of the LGBT community. Though I mostly came out to everyone I knew closely back in the summer of 2011 and somehow missed NCOD that year, I decided to post something on Facebook last year. I had a suspicion that most of the people who follow me closely on social media already knew, but decided that it was a good excuse to perhaps reach some of those friends from my days of yore. In that message, I came out as both bi and poly.

Responses were all positive, as I imagined they'd be, from "Love you, no matter what" to "What a great, honest and humble post!" But the greatest two responses were the ones in which two distant connections, a college classmate and a cousin of a past partner, essentially said, "Hey, me too!" This, I thought to myself, is one of the goals of this day, and one of the goals, I think, of coming out in general.

In my own experience, and I think in the experiences of a lot of people who are coming out as anything (lesbian, gay, trans*, bisexual, queer, asexual, intersex, genderqueer, polyamorous, kinky, etc.), coming out has more than one important function. I'll speak from my own experience because I can't (and shouldn't) speak from anyone else's; I came out for three reasons:

1. First and foremost, I came out to feel more like me. This is, in my view, the most important reason for someone to come out. Suddenly I didn't have to talk about half my life, didn't have to use euphemisms or code words, and didn't have to feel like I was being insincere with anyone about who I really was. I'll be at a pub night or something with Joel and he'll marvel at how fast I can work, "Oh yeah this is my boyfriend but we're not exclusive" into a conversation. Or, "Oh, you know, at the nonprofit I work with, the BISEXUAL Resource Center..." It's like if I'm clicking with someone, even on a casual friendship basis, I don't feel like it's genuine until they know who I am.
2. I came out to raise awareness. It doesn't always work out this way, of course, but sometimes the more personal connection people have with someone who isn't heteronormative or mononormative, the less likely it is that they will make blanket statements of discrimination. And the more likely it is they will find out more, and maybe even start to shed those small-minded ideas a little bit at a time.**
3. Finally, I came out to let others around me know it's okay if they want to come out too. I think this is one of the best parts about NCOD - the coming out domino effect. Those two people who commented that they, like me, were not straight or not monogamous (or both!) were probably already out, but they felt the need to come out again to me because I had come out to them, and all of us probably had these awesome "You are not alone" warm fuzzy moments because of it. 

I read a lot of amazing posts on Friday, some of them from friends who were coming out for the first time, some from straight, monogamous friends pledging their support to those who need it, and a lot (like me) saying, "I'm already out, but just in case you need a reminder...I'll tell you again." The community I feel on these days is really quite amazing, and the hope is that the more support and community we pledge to give to those who are still in the closet, the more they will finally feel they are able to come out when (and if) they want to. 

There are many, many hurdles to coming out, both personal and professional, and I'll admit that there are many family members who I'm still not out to. But the hope is that with days like NCOD, and with support from friends and acquaintances alike, those hurdles will be easier to cross in years to come for anyone who wants to jump them.

**Of course, your milage may vary. Last Christmas, as we were all discussing my second cousin's upcoming lesbian wedding, an extended family member actually said, "I guess it could happen to any family." I still have not come out to them, but that's a different subject for a different day. 

Reclaiming the Mix Tape

Like many children of the 80's, I have a particular nostalgia for the mix tape, especially the mix tape from a special someone. There was nothing quite like being handed that little rectangular case, pouring over the track names I knew and wondering about the ones I didn't know, and waiting painfully through the school day to go home and play it. And then, I hung on to every word and wondered, Why did he choose this one? This song uses "love" twenty times in it, is he trying to tell me something? (Spoiler: most of the time, he wasn't.) I'd reply in kind with my own mix tape that would show him my profoundly deep fifteen-year-old soul (though I'd never be there for the first listen, because who wants to see someone see your soul?)

Though I never stopped wanting to make mix tapes for special someones, something changed. It wasn't a disinterest in music - I still very much look to songs to qualify certain feelings. It wasn't the creation of digital media - I just started making playlists instead. And it wasn't that love songs have changed. It was my that my relationships no longer follow a preset societal norm, and love songs, most of the time, just aren't that poly.

But I was on a mission to make a mix, so I asked some other poly friends if they also had trouble with music. Several shared my frustrations, that otherwise meaningful songs become less so when overtly monogamous or jealous themes pop up. There's nothing quite like listening to a song and falling for it, thinking it says more than you could ever say to someone special, before realizing it contains a line like, "You're mine." I asked them, what do you do with that? How do you avoid mono-normativity* in mainstream music?

My favorite answer, other than the one recommending I just switch to dubstep, was this: I just ignore it. Though it had certainly crossed my mind to pick and choose what parts of songs I really intended to be about that special someone, there was always some voice in the back of my head going, That song is perfect except for those three lines, so it's ruined. Move on. But the more I thought about it the more I talked back to that voice: Why can't those three lines be re-interpreted? Who says I have to go along with what was it was supposed to be about? And then I got angrier: If I was one to always follow what was "supposed to be" I wouldn't be poly in the first place.

So I started to just ignore those lines that ruined a perfectly good song. Or, rather, re-imagined them. And why not? Why can't "You're mine" mean "You're mine right now," or "You're mine and you're also someone else's"? Music already squishes pages of emotion into three or so minutes, so isn't there always more complexity intended than what's on the page? And, even if that intent is totally different than the one we need, who's to say we can't change it? We're already pretty damned good at re-writing rules to fit our lives, why not re-write the intended meaning of mainstream music to fit our mixes?

Maybe this is my creative nature showing through, but once I started ignoring the mono-normativity, I found that making mixes was more fun - maybe even more fun than it was when I was fifteen. There's more of a challenge to finding a song that not only has those lines I can ignore but that also captures the desire for independence and community I have in my adult relationships. But once I find it, it's more rewarding. I mean, it's not quite as rewarding as writing out track lists by hand on a tiny rectangular cassette insert, but for some things, you just have to dig out a CD-R and a Sharpie.

I didn't use any of my friends' suggested poly-friendly songs in my latest mix, so I present their suggestions here, for amusement. What songs are on mine? Sorry, you don't get to see my soul that easily.

CSN&Y - "Our House"
Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band - "If I Should Fall Behind"
Todd Rundgren - "Hello It's Me"
Tim Minchin - "If I Didn't Have You" (to combat "one and only love forever" feelings)
fun - "Take Your Time"
Spice Girls - "Wannabe"
Alanis Morissette - "Doth I Protest Too Much"

and I'll add
The New Pornographers - "Challengers"
The Human League - "The Things that Dreams are Made Of"

Feel free to suggest your own in the comments!

*the monogamous "norm"