When you're made of all angles, unable to fit a perfect picture the world's given you
The World Outside the Picture
I am usually a private person. I think that’s why, in the past, blogs have not worked for me. I’m not particularly fond of reading them, and, when writing them, I’m not particularly fond of the introspection needed for anything deeper than: “Look! It’s a recipe with 20 dozen pictures!”. I mean, sure…I would start them up—get generally positive reviews for the snark, sass, and tone that drips off people’s screens. But, it can hurt pretty deeply when I start digging at my skin to share what’s more than surface level deep.
And other people? Hurumph, I says to myself, why would I want to know what’s going on in their life? Just because they want to put it on broadcast doesn’t mean it’s any of my business what they have to say. A bluntly honest look, but there ya go.
Until it was my business. Until I needed help, and I thought I had nowhere to turn to. And ya know…I don’t think it’s not so much that my ”problem” (we’ll get into the quotation marks a bit later, but you’ll understand soon. I’mma bit of a tease) is rare—it’s more that my issue, my life, my relationship…my very existence in some ways is such a taboo subject.
Piqued your interests? Good.
It wasn’t always like that, ya know. I was a straight laced Christian gal that might have had a few ‘strange’ friends, but I didn’t judge them, and they didn’t judge me. We lived—and I lied—in relative harmony. I thought I was happy- and who knows? In some ways I kinda was-- but there were pieces of me missing, and I kept seeking them in the wrong ways, looking for anyone else but me to fill the holes.
I’ve been wanting to document this journey—for several reasons I think I will get into in another blog post. But, it’s almost an almost overwhelming endeavor that I froze at nearly every time I tried. I literally feel like a different person. I was reading through a journal entry that I wrote at the beginning of all of this—this confusion, this hurt, these revelations—and I cried for the girl I was looking at from the mirror’s past. She’s almost a stranger to me, but she’s more familiar to me than who I am at this point. I feel stuck between that lost and fragile and broken girl and the person I am now.
So, I talked to my husband about starting a blog about our journey and how our relationship has changed, grown, evolved…
And not everyone is going to be okay with it.
This blog is part me accepting that, and part me helping those who may find themselves in that past stranger’s shoes. I feel that during this journey and communication and struggle, we are in a good place in our relationship for me to reassess all the emotions and development that I kind of….bottled up?...while trying to repair what I previously thought beyond help. My emotions, my thoughts, have been packed away—not in a way that they have pressurized, but more so in a way where they’ve been preserved until I was in a better headspace to organize my thoughts, my feelings, my sexuality, my husband’s sexuality, our relationship and where it goes from here…
What to even call our relationship now. Is it open? Polyamory? It’s a strange word that tastes odd on my tongue. A life I never imagined. A life that I’ve stumbled and learned through, researching and stretching in my own comfort zones.
Am I figured out? Fuck! That’s a laugh.
I’m…better. I have moments—brief instances of insecurity—almost like tripping when walking on a flat surface. It catches me unaware, makes my breath snatch in my throat. But, I have such an amazing support group that my husband and I have gathered around us during these times, that they constantly remind me that I’m okay, that I’m safe.
This blog is supposed to be cathartic for me. It’ll be candid. Starkly truthful. I’ll go ahead and put the spoiler on the first blog post: despite our struggles, despite whatever irritations I write (what actually truthful relationship doesn’t have issues?), despite the emotional stress and revelations I have struggled through…I would never—not for a moment, not even for a glance….I would never ever go back. I am happier even in my most depressed moments than that broken stranger that I look back at.
I also realized throughout the time that I attempted to reach out, to seek help in the beginning of all of this, that my family unit is not a rare situation, but the examples of a healthy relationship and conflict resolutions on the internet are very few and far between. Take a journey with me-- Imagine…how heartrending it is to be vulnerable and raw after having a painful conversation with your husband (that….let’s be real…you’ve known was coming for a long long time). You get online, looking for some light at the end of this dark, dark tunnel. All you find are the overwhelming examples you find (both from the ‘professionals’ and ‘real life’) are of “women being abandoned by men realizing they were gay, or men choosing to be with women despite being gay (regardless of their own emotional wellbeing).
Nobody wins that way! I saw only pain and heartache and the potential loss of my life partner who still loved me then, and loves me today. There were only rare, rare occasions of happy ending mixed- or changing orientation marriages, and even fewer that involved the partners being a healthy part of each other’s changing/growing orientation.
There is your disclaimer, your spoiler, of what most of the pieces I'll be writing will be about. There is a desperate need for a true look at a polyamorous relationship from the beginning. Something that isn’t sugar-coated. Something that doesn’t just…show the ugly side of it either. There is a need for something real. Something that is flawed but continues to work—cause that is what relationships are. Work for the person(s) you love. There is a desperate need to normalize other types of relationships than the traditional white picket fence, one husband, one wife, and two kids scenario.
There is a world out there, and that world does not fit that picture…and neither do I…and neither does my husband…and neither does our boyfriend.
You’ve been warned. This is told through my eyes. But, I’m not going to lie. I can be very vulgar, and I write in my Appalachian vernacular quite often. I will offer no apologies for purposeful mangling of English grammar.
I am a flawed human being.
I am unjustifiably arrogant, socially awkward, painfully naïve, horribly jaded, uncomfortably insecure, completely dependent, powerfully independent…unconditionally loving, unfairly suspicious, idiotically kind, absurdly selfish…at least somewhat humorous, and perhaps cruelly sarcastic. I offer no apologies for the kind, uplifting and/or insulting words that will inevitably fall onto this page. Writing is my therapy, my obsession.
I’m just hoping that others will benefit from it, where I had nowhere to turn to.
I’m not sure how organized I will be. I doubt there will be any chronological means of thought to this. I figure I’ll more look at our relationship, my life and my husband’s life through the lens of a topical eye. I’ll hit on sexuality, the struggle of accommodation, communication…religion (ohhh boy)… If I haven’t touched on a topic you’re particularly interested in hearing about—be patient with me. It’s likely up there in my noggin. Or, reach out! I am by no means a shy person.
My goal is for this to be a weekly endeavor, and sometimes, it might not even be a blog post, but more a poem. Who knows? It’s all about my cathartic therapy, and y’all are along for the chaotic ride in my mind. I also don’t mind a bit (if this takes off) to share others’ experiences, at my discretion, of course.
Despite my initial discomfort, I know from past experiences that having my skin scratched away to reveal what’s beneath will in the end help me. And if I can help just one person that was in the position that I was in know they are not alone…. then it will be worth this initial discomfort of becoming a public, poly, married mixed-orientation couple.
So, grab a seat. Heat some popcorn and prepare for grimaces, giggles and …did she really just say that???
Cause yes, yes I did just say that.