It's almost 9 PM and my lunch for tomorrow is packed, both the cats and I have been fed, and I even paid all the bills yesterday.
Something is obviously wrong here. Since when am i so organized? I was even thinking about setting up Quicken tonight, but I think i've decided to leave that for another night.
(my work desktop)
So I'm putting a lot of what I've learned into use lately and I'm discovering that it's not all that hard.
The distance makes it rough. If we were closer together, i could crawl into her bed and bump her awake, wrap my arms around her and tell her that i love her and there is nobody in my life like her, and that there is more than enough of me to go around. That sort of reassurance is harder when you're a country and three time zones away from the other person. It's also harder to come over to her house bearing chocolate and massage oil for a night of staying in when she's feeling frazzled and tired and discombobulated.
But, still, there are ways to reach out, online and over the phone and with a package i'm putting together. Not really much a substitute for a head laid on a shoulder or soft voices in a dark room, but it's what I can do right now.
But, yeah. honesty works, and respect, and expressing love by truly caring for the other person's welfare. I think we're doing a pretty good job so far, and signs still look good for the future.
I'm doing what I can.
The thing about polyamory is that it really isn't that hard.Or, rather, it's as hard as monogamy. Monogamy is hard; it's all about negotiated boundaries and keeping each other safe, and making room for all the people in your life. And polyamory is hard; it's all about negotiated boundaries and keeping each other safe, and making room for all the people in your life.
Relationships are hard, no matter if you're loving one person or several.
But, damn, it's worth it.
fictional outtake (or, it might have been my life)You never call any more, she accuses me with a pointed finger and a sharp-nosed look. You never write, you never call, and when's the last time you came to see me?
I close my eyes. Heaven help me. I explain again that I have been avoiding her, that her...situation makes me uncomfortable. I glance meaningfully around the bare, bare room, the walls painted a light yellow that seems calculated to be disturbing.
I don't care. I want you to come see me more often. Her voice is rusty with disuse, or maybe it's hoarse from all the screaming she's been doing. I make a mental note to ask the person who is guarding the door which it is when I leave.
And, damn you, i want you to get me out of here.
I make an apologetic noise in the back of my throat and lift my hands towards her in a plea for her understanding. I can't, I tell her. Remember Chicago... Borneo... that place where we went to ground in the Australian outback? Remember those? We were hunted down...or, rather you were hunted down. You were the one with the implanted tracking device.
Her smile is terrible. But they got you, too, now. I can see that look in your eyes. They got you.
Yeah, i admit, they did. But it's not that bad. You just can't run, and I have to admit the perks are worth it.
Her eyes glaze over. Her chest rises, and i think for a moment she's going to scream at me. But she catches herself.
I don't get any of the bennies, she whispers. I hate you.
I knew you would. You ran. I haven't and I'm not going to.
A comfortable slave is still a slave, she hisses.
I look her in the eye. At least I have the freedom to move around. not like you... in this room... in these four walls...
And her eyes go again and I know i've lost her. I rap my signal on the glass of the window and the guard lets me out, just ahead of a rolling scream that seems much too loud to be coming from that very small person in the middle of the room. She is staring at the ceiling and screaming with an impassive look on her face.
You almost got to her, the guard remarks. She generally doesn't stay lucid that long.
Be careful with her, please? I ask the guard gently.
She is important to you, he says.
Was, i reply. I finger the jewelry in my ear self-conciously, tracing the microchipped rings.
Was important to me, once upon a time, I murmur. Then i walk away through the checkpoint and out into the fall morning, away from the building where the only sane person I know is screaming her lungs out in an attempt to finally be heard.
This time tomorrow, Chris will be here!*endless glee*
Best reason to read Anne Sexton:
Because, damn it all, she makes sense.
how goes the war?
We are organizing the rank and file, and strategizing what countries we will take over this weekend.
