Category: life experiences

Vulnerability opens doors to community

Tomorrow I am hosting a potluck for my local polya group. I usually host a Thanksgiving celebration for my polycule every year, and a Christmahanukwanzikayulemastide celebration, but that’s been about it for a while.  We’ve had a few small game nights at the house here and there.  I have been saying for years that I would have some sort of BBQ, or plan a themed party like I used to, but it wasn’t something I managed to manifest from casual conversation into reality.

I remember vaguely searching for local polya groups a little over a year ago, I think what prompted it was curiosity, and one of my loves saying that we didn’t really have polya and RA folks in this area. This was the only local group I found, and while I joined a bit over a year ago as I mentioned, I didn’t really become active in it until this spring.  I don’t actually remember exactly what prompted me to start being more active in it, I believe it was noticing that a potluck was coming up, but it could be that I started engaging more first and that was why I noticed the event.  Either way, I RSVPed to it, and possibly because of that and their desire to make new folks feel welcome, or possibly because of my sheer queer magnetism, the two admins initiated conversation by reaching out to welcome me and start a friendship.

The beginning of the friendship that has developed with those individuals was interesting, I actually found that I took up a role of advise-giver and listener-to-rants for a while there.  That’s a frequent role I find myself in, so it was a comfortable one, but it was a little surprising to be that for two people I barely knew.  They were both at a bit of a rocky point with mental health, each other, other life situations, and I tried to help the best I could.  Despite that being a role I frequently find myself in, two things were different about it this time around.  The first was the amount of openness and trust and rawness they showed me, despite us just getting acquainted.  The usual skating around the issues and revealing a little bit at a time until trust was established and that picture perfect masked could be dropped, we just skipped right over that step. I value that raw authenticity beyond measure, it is something I crave in a world where people are guarded little drones pushing their identical Target shopping carts with their identical forced smiles.  These two people showed me the ugly parts of themselves and their relationship, and I was barely more than a stranger.  It wasn’t an over-share, it was a baring of the soul, and it was a courageous act. The second thing that was different was that in all my years as resident advice-giver in my groups of friends, I have almost never seen anyone really focus on examining the advice I gave so completely and then applying it.  It was unique to see someone actually evaluate the pretty advice scarf I painstakingly knitted them, realize it’s merit, and put it on and use it daily.  The fact that they put value on the time and energy I put into trying to offer assistance was an affirmation I had rarely been given, and was a true gift.  The fact that I was able to offer assistance to people who wanted that much to actually grow and improve, rather than mouth the words and continue on in the same old patterns, was so refreshing.  And seeing them both grow as people in tremendous ways over the eight months I’ve now known them, is an absolute inspiration. What I didn’t realize until much later was that being allowed to take the role of advise-giver for people who were so immediately vulnerable and also quite completely dedicated to personal-growth and positive change, also effected me in the most wonderful positive way.

I felt comfortable and at home in the raw gritty realness of those individuals, and in the inspiring growth they showed.  It mirrored my own fractured and flawed existence and constant search for vulnerability and need for self improvement.  I felt welcomed by the intensity of the sudden closeness I found with them, and the invitation to be myself.  I also was allowed to enter into my venture into the group within a role I felt very comfortable with, which eased the transition from mostly recluse, to reemerging social butterfly.  It was one of those times in life where circumstances line up in just the right way to allow for a new path to unfurl with radiant clarity right when you need it.  I was craving community, I was craving what it felt like to have a group beyond my polycule where I felt belonging and a sense of home, and I was craving a realness in my interactions with people that broke past the surface of the casual and polite and restrained that permeated my social engagements with your average human. That began to extend to others in the group as I went to the potluck and also began engaging in conversation through the group online.  The atmosphere in the online group forum was unique as well.  Most local groups I’ve seen have a lot of unicorn hunting and meme sharing, and not much else.  Here there were group conversations in which people also showed startling levels of vulnerability, where we talked about our traumatic pasts, and deeply flawed selves to a group of almost-strangers on the internet, and there was always an outpouring of support and love in response.  It also was one of the only communities I’ve been a part of that both centered and elevated and protected marginalized groups, while also welcoming those who weren’t really up to date on or concerned about social justice issues and gently guiding them to understand. I eventually joined the moderator team and found an even bigger new circle of friends I could be my absolutely obnoxious flamboyant self with, who even seemed to appreciate it and welcome it from time to time. People who came from all walks of life, but again shared a welcoming openness and realness that felt just like coming home.

And that led to now, where I’m getting ready to get up and clean house for a potluck tomorrow.  I’ve spent years saying I would host a gathering like I used to in the good old days when I had the energy to be a sparkling force of nature that hosted exuberant parties that brought people together. I also haven’t had any more then a shadow of the desire in me until now, the want to do so flitted around in my chest cavity but there was no passion for it to feed on and break out with.  The amazing group of people I’ve connected with changed that, I feel renewed having found a place where I feel at home, and a place that inspires my own growth as well.  When the opportunity came up to offer to host one of the events instead of just being in attendance, I was compelled to do so.  For me, that was a huge step after years of somewhat isolating myself due to a lack of passion and energy and motivation. The community I found that was so invigorating and raw has changed me, giving me back a certain spark that I have not felt in a good long time. So I hope, as I work on preparing food and finding places to hide my clutter, that this gathering has a few more new folks as well, who may also realize that they have found their community, and settle in and call it home.

“You park like a dick”

There was a break in the routine yesterday morning. As I was going to my car, I noticed something on the windshield. I’ve managed to get an above average number of tickets because of forgetting to move my car for street cleaning, but I was confused. Wasn’t street cleaning over on my block until spring? No, this was a napkin, what the hell is a napkin doing tucked under my windshield? So I picked it up.

“You park like a dick”

Okay so I’d rather not admit it but my first reaction was anger. What kind of fuckweasel leaves a message like that for someone?!?! I was thinking about it the whole drive, and once the anger faded a bit, I began to analyze if I do indeed “park like a dick”.  I did recall thinking when I parked across the street, because there were no spots in front of my house, that I was parking in a space large enough for two cars. There are no lines to differentiate parking spots on my street, and no assigned spots.  I remembered pulling forward to try and make sure there would be room for another car to fit in behind me, but not getting as close as I absolutely could have to the car in front, because I like leaving myself extra room to pull out.  So, I suppose it could be that I had not left enough room for a larger car or truck behind me, and that I could have parked a little more forward and given more space.  Other then that, I was a good distance from the curb, I was parked straight, I hadn’t run over someones cat or a toy in the street. I hadn’t drawn a demonic summoning circle with rubber from squealing my tires. So?

I kept thinking on it the whole drive though, back to anger for a moment.  I wondered why someone would actually take the time to write out a note like that?  Sure I had thought something similar enough times, but when I’ve thought about how some obnoxious dick goblin had parked diagonally to take up three spots in a parking lot and what snarky things I would say, I haven’t actually left them a little token with my thoughts scrawled out.  I reason out that I shouldn’t do so because it won’t actually fix the problem, their park job. By the time they saw it they would be leaving anyway, all it would do is piss them off.  And if they’d had a good reason for parking that way, and I always try and imagine up justification for people to give the benefit of the doubt, then I would be ruining someones day, and not actually manifesting any positive exchange out of it either.  I try and actually apply that to much of my life, thinking through before I criticize or comment, is this actually going to effect the change I would want to see?  If so, at what cost, how will it effect the recipient?

My brain decided to pull up the signature one of my nursing professors attaches to every email, “Be Kind”. She repeats this message constantly, telling us day in and day out how there is not enough kindness in the world and we need to remember, especially as nurses, when we are dealing with the brunt of abuse from out patients, to be kind. We are seeing someone on one of their worst days, maybe at their very worst, remember that, and be kind.  Well, that’s a funny thing to have flashing through my head, since I don’t actually know what particular fuckweasel left me such a considerate note. Is it possible to be kind to someone who I likely will never identify? I suppose I can tuck away that suggestion and bring it back up if they ever approach me personally about my parking and then consider kindness, instead of lighting them on fire or filling their pants with a thousand angry bees.  I tried to foster kindness in my mind at that moment though, and to channel my typical instincts when I’m the one objecting to someones parking or general driving, to imagine justification for them and give them an imagined good reason for their lovely letter.  But what justifies needing to take your anger out on a stranger over an issue you can’t solve because it’s already done and in the past?  Okay, so that line of thought wasn’t very helpful, but I could at least foster kindness in myself and realize that sometimes people do act out in anger in ways that are unproductive and only serve to pass that anger on, and I could choose not to let it ruin my day, and not to pass it on by lashing out at anyone else. I could decide not to accept their gift of anger in that moment.

I took it all as a bit of a lesson, the cycling through thoughts and emotions and rationals.  It reminded me that there are people who act in ways that are not meant to actually find a solution, but are just the venting of emotions.  And that might be appropriate in some contexts, but I didn’t much like being the brunt of it when it really wasn’t appropriate or necessary. It reminded me to consider if an accusation thrown at me has merit, and not to beat myself up over it if it is merit-less and I had acted in the best way I knew how at the time. And it reminded me to be kind, to myself, and possibly even to fuckweasels with unknown motives, should I ever be approached by a person rather then an anonymous napkin-message.

I let it go by the time I got to my destination, because I don’t like to hold on to anger, or used napkins.  And I’m glad to say that while I may park like a dick according to some, at least I don’t choose to act like one.

 

On coming full circle and growing from your roots on up

Today I turn 29, and I’ve been pondering a good subject for a birthday post. My goal is to try and write something on here daily, and mostly focus on relationship anarchy, queer and lgbt+ issues, communication, interpersonal dynamics, intentional communities, advice, and occasionally politics (especially as it’s impossible for many of the previous topics to exist in an apolitical vacuum). So I was musing what topic to focus on today, and I’ll tell you I still haven’t figured it out. I think that I’ve realized I want to write this not just as a series of articles or informative or inspirational peices about the above subjects, but I’d also like to share my personal life and experiences. This isn’t a journal persay, but there are so many writers who write about the subjects I also have interest in, and the thing I bring to the table that differentiates my writing is myself, that it comes from my unique perspective, formed of my life experiences.

Let me share a little about my life. I came upon polyamory fairly early on in my existence, actually it’s safe to say I was probably a relationship anarchist before I was a polyamorist, though at the time I didn’t know the word for either. I was thirteen, I flew my freak flag high even then and had a following of other oddball kids at the Jewish socialist summer camp I attended. One boy was desperately infatuated with me, and he wasn’t the most handsome or beautiful admirer I’d had, and I don’t think anyone expected for me to return his feelings. I certainly didn’t expect it at first. He was always part of our little group and while I didn’t realize it’s importance at the time, I quickly saw that he made me laugh. It’s only years later that I’ve noticed how truly rare that is, I don’t really laugh out loud no matter how much I find things amusing, and it takes a very special person and a a very quirky sense of humor to truly inspire laughter in me. I believe that was why I fell in love with him. That, and when he smiled his crooked grin, while he was still not the most traditionally attractive person, it absolutely lit up his face. He just radiated joy when he smiled and I was inexplicably drawn to that.

This boy Bee and I ended up in a romance of sorts, one that I quickly told my boyfriend David about, because I had some understanding that most people were mongomous. David didn’t mind, and while eventually Bee was unhappy with my multiple dynamics, or maybe the lack of title in ours, for a couple years we existed fairly happily that way, at least as far as I was concerned. I also ended up in something of a romance with Bee’s sister Jen, and spent a lot of happy days in those few summers snuggled up with both of them, laughing and discussing philosophy and love.

I began to write a relationship manifesto, or maybe a life manifesto really. Reading back on my juvinile but passionate ramblings now, I see how they truly were the groundwork for all my passions since. I wrote about love being a free force that should not be restricted, of the dangers of society and its constraints, of community and love and connection within community being the most important thing in this world. I scrawled page after page based on conversations with Bee and Jen, about how we could love endlessly without control and restriction, and that love could take all shapes and didn’t need to fit into specific relationship norms. I’m not sure my wording was then was as sofisticated, but certainly it seems that I’ve come full circle and am writing about the same basic ideas now. Is it that much of a surprise that my love affair with the boy with a crooked grin who made me laugh and the conversations we had, helped build the roots for my passion for relationship anarchy and my life goal of creating an intentional community?

That relationship ended when I was fifteen and was followed by a few years of attempted monogomy, though I certainly wasn’t very good at it, and most of my dynamics involved some dabbling into open relationships or cheating on one side or the other. I was sixteen when I first heard the word polyamory and an explanation of what it meant, and it seemed to fit what I wanted, but a period of insecurity that begot controlling behaviors on my part, prevented me from exploring it fully at that time. I revisited the idea a year later, and when I decided at that point that I was polya, I knew there was no going back.

Being polyamorous was a breath of fresh air to some extent, but it still allowed me to nuture some of the more toxic parts of myself. I don’t think I ever lacked self confidence in my own view of myself, but I didn’t expect others to stick around, so I attempted to control and trap people to me in rule and agreement based relationships with high levels of codependency. The details of how I managed to break free of that are a story for another time, but fast forward to a few years ago, probably when I was 23 or 24, and I first read about relationship anarchy. There was a click, I realized very fast that someone put words to what I’d been seeking and writing about in my very earliest experiences with relationships. Since then I have been able to free myself more and more of some pretty toxic baggage both that society imposes about relationships, and that I developed on my own while being something of a steaming pile of shit in relationships.

And so we progress to now. I’ve come a bit farther then full circle, taking the ideas I had as a kid and refining them, finding better ways to communicate them, and learning the skills to actually put them into practice. Now I strive to build on them and pursue further growth, knowing that my roots lie strong and deep beneath me to support me and keep me grounded. So haply birthday to me, and here’s to another year of learning and self improvement. I look forward to see where I’ll have made it to in another years time.