'Home' by Paige Bradley (I love her work so much)
My friend Ginny turned 71 Thursday. I had her over for dinner last night to celebrate. She brought the wine and Rick and Jill (who are in their 60’s - adorable couple) and I bbq’ed and we talked about world travel. I love to travel, Rick and Jill are well travelled, and Ginny is an inspiration with her mad travelling skillz. Last year she went on an African safari and then cruised the Pacific to Tahiti and the surrounding islands. Tahiti, though wonderful and beautiful was hard for her. Since it would have been a wedding anniversary for her and her dead husband. They talked about going to Tahiti for their 50th wedding anniversary. Well, she got there for what would have been their 55th. Alone. She had brought a picture of “Slim” (Roy, but she calls him Slim) and at sunset on the beach let his picture go out in the water. And cried. It’s been 10 years since he died, and she misses him every day.
But last night the conversation was about travelling joys. I know the back story about Tahiti, so I knew it wasn’t about crystal clear ocean, sandy beaches and exotic locations. I also know why she travels. She calls it “running away”.
I get that.
Being alone for the summer without my peeps has given me a great deal of time to think. After my freak out the other day with Misty I have decided to practice meditation. I can see that I have thoughts in my mind that I avoid like eye contact with the creepy guy. I need to confront these, sort out these issues that are still obviously raw open wounds.
One of the things that I have meditated on is being alone. It is something that I feel that I need to find more peace in. That said, I have also decided that part of being human is not doing well alone - we are not meant to be. We are meant to find our “person” and live in a way that satisfies our need for social connection. I think, as much as monogamy is not for everyone, the need to have that one special connection to someone is. Who that is, how that works is an individual as we are.
The pictures above are called ‘Home’. I know I don’t need to explain any more than that to you. You get it. Maybe you have it, maybe you are searching for it, but you recognize it.
I had a conversation with my good friend the other night about poly, how it works, how it doesn’t and the importance of getting what you need. Don’t settle. Really, that should be any relationship, not just poly, but in poly there are other players. I read a really great tumblr blurb of thoughts here (Sam, I need to email you!), I like reading about other peoples thoughts and experiences in poly, it makes me think about my own needs/wants.
I’ve always said I want a partner, someone to explore with, my touch stone and person. I don’t give a flying fuck what label you want to put on it, frankly, I’d rather you didn’t or keep that shit to yourself. I don’t ever want to feel like, if I met someone who tickled my pink (as Misty would say) that I wasn’t allowed to explore that. I value and love my independence and freedom, as much as I love someone who is free to do and act as they please, being all themselves. After being married to someone who being truly myself made uncomfortable and unhappy, I don’t ever want to impose myself on another person like that. Acceptance, as is, where is, is so fucking important to me.
Today I am a swirly mixture of happy and sad. I am happy for Misty/boy side that s/he and his wife work to make it work. They love each other, even if it doesn’t make any sense to the rest of the world. They celebrated their anniversary last night.
Misty has often said to me, s/he hopes I find a “primary” (jesus, I hate that term) partner. Which really feels like shit, frankly. SInce s/he is my primary partner in my heart. It’s like giving someone a gift and them politely declining it, or in extreme moments feeling like you watching someone toss it into the garbage casually while smiling at you.
I have known but not really realized that s/he is my person for some time. I think (and I’m just saying this without confrmation from her/him) that on some levels I am her/his person too. But I am not the whole package. Is soul mate to cliche? What-the-fuck-ever. I’ll say it - soul mates. People try to define it, but I think that is silly. I have read so many descriptions on what it means, some of it touching me, other descriptions repelling me. I look at the pictures above and think that word. Two minds, open and at peace with each others thoughts, physically and mentally drawn to each other while maintaining and reveling in each other’s individuality. Uplifting. Invigorating. Rejuvenating. A port in the storm of life.
Last night, as I lay in bed alone, thinking of Misty and his wife enjoying each other, loving each other I was over come by both happy and sad. I wish and want every single damn happiness there is for her/him. It gives me a warm happy feeling thinking about him glowing in the love of the person he loves. I am not jealous. Honestly. I find that hard to believe myself sometimes, but I am not. What makes me sad is once that happiness for him ebbs, how alone I feel. And I realize that I want someone to hug me to sleep. That I want to share my days. And I do, very largely with her/him. We talk almost every night. We text every day. We connect daily, all the time, about everything. Not just sex and sexy things (though I do love that). But that thought that I was telling you that I am trying to hunt down in my meditations, is that thing that I am missing. I’m not sure what it is. I don’t want to get married or be monogamous, or necessarily live with someone day in and out. I don’t know what it is.
I would happily wake up to Misty/boy side every day until we were old and wrinkly. Happily share my space and life. But those are not my things to have. I would happily love to be in his/her life more, but I am on the fringe of his life. It makes me feel ungrateful that I can’t just fucking love the hell out of what I have. Which makes me sad. Nothing feels worse than failing as a grateful person. Life fail.
I just wrote a whole bunch of this shit to him/her in messages. broken-crownnn, I failed at the “Keep the emotional shit to yourself” rule already. FAIL.
All the failing makes me feel like I am simply meant to be alone. My shit is just too much, and I am a burden.
Misty and I are supposed to go out and play tonight. There is a couple we are planning to meet as well as a swing party that we can go to afterwards. I feel like a failure because I’m so emotional. I will have to think of way to suck it up.
Time to lace up, try and out run the sad, and get on with it.