Monthly Archives: December 2015

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One of the most common questions/criticisms I hear about the poly lifestyle has to do with people expressing concerns about my children. It’s second only to the questions about jealousy and time management.

“What about your kids?” people will ask. They frequently whisper this, like it is too taboo a subject to even speak aloud. I often just shrug. It’s a big topic to tackle in the space of what is usually a small conversation.

“Our kids are fine,” I’ll say. “They don’t know much; when you were eight, how much did you know about your parent’s sex lives?”

And that’s the crux of it. Our kids don’t know the ins and outs of it, haha. Our son is almost 13, our daughter will be 8 this weekend. They are far more concerned with Pokemon, social studies homework, and whether Gramma paid them for their chores this week. Our son is best friends with Velah’s son. They are the same age, share the same interests, and are frequently thrown together during social functions. I’m glad the kids can still be friends, and I hope their friendship will flourish. 

So, what about our kids? At almost 13, our son probably knows what happens when I send the kids to bed and take my boyfriend into my room with me. He knows that his dad stays over at Velah’s house. He sees us kiss each other, often, and passionately. He also sees us kiss our other partners. When I was kissing my boyfriend one time when he was visiting this fall, I saw my son looking at us and grinning. He knows this man makes me happy.He also knows that Splatoon is currently on loan from my boyfriend, and that he has another grown-up in his life to talk about pokemon with.

Kids have a very self centered view of their world. And in a healthy poly family, the kids have multiple adults with multiple talents and interests who are there to help them figure out this crazy world. Our group of friends and partners includes multple faiths, backgrounds, careers, and interests. I feel this provides a well-rounded safety net for the kids; if they can’t come to a parent with a question, chances are some adult in their life will have the answer.

It’s better than I had as a kid.

Somewhere, our society has lost the village… We tend to hole up in big houses and wall ourselves off from other people. Feeling like we need to be the only answer for our kids shortchanges them of the richness of experience that a different point of view provides to them. I’m not saying that poly is the answer for everyone; it’s hard work, and a person can do a lot of damage to a family if they do it for the wrong reasons or go into it with an unhealthy mindset. But, I think everyone can learn a little from the idea that more people in someone’s life can be a very good thing.That sitting down with someone of a different faith or from a different part of the country can give you a perspective on your own life that you might not have had. That having a group of caring adults looking put for a group of kids is actually ok… and admitting to ourselves that we aren’t always the best person to answer our kids’ questions or concerns.

When I think of the vast amount of intangibles that our partners and friends have brought to the table for our kids, I can’t think of raising my kids any other way. The poor kids get exponentially more parenting than they would have if we were doing it by ourselves. But they also get exponentially more love and support.

“Our kids are fine with it,” doesn’t even begin to cover all of this. “Our kids are better for it,” sounds smug. Maybe in writing this out, I will have found a better answer.

In the meantime, thank you for reading.

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Affirmation

This whole learning how to be a person thing? It’s really fucking hard.

But, I have to remember that it’s worth it, too.

A month and a half on the Cymbalta. I’ve made it through Thanksgiving, and a crazy Black Friday at work.  I’ve been on my feet for weeks straight, stopping to sleep and occasionally cuddle a loved one, and I’m ready for a day off.

But I don’t feel flattened. I don’t hurt all over. I’m sleeping well and I have energy. I still haven’t started therapy, but it’s on the list.And the positives far outweight the negatives, even still. The medicine is worth it; I’m getting my self back.

It feels much like when I had my Lasik surgery earlier this year. The first few days were tough. Nothing was in focus, and I have flashes of bright clarity that almost hurt. Then, gradually, my vision settled down, and I could see clearly without glasses for the first time in my life.

The first weeks of anti-depressant medication was hard. I felt overwhelmed and fragile, with flashes of bright beauty. A pain-free day, an hour of laughter with my husband, a beautiful morning in the arms of my lover. And slowly, the clarity and beauty is becoming my reality.

I get dizzy. I forget to eat, because the meds kill my appetite. I sleep much more. It’s more difficult to reach orgasm. 

I connect with my loved ones better. I laugh more. I sleep more soundly. I perform better at work I have more focus. I hurt less. I snuggle more. I have more stamina for everyday activities. 

I’ve had many tearful conversations with my husband. This world of feelings? It’s hard and scary. Knowing that I will likely be on meds for the rest of my life? Kinda sucks. Having a bad day terrifies me because I don’t want the darkness to take over again. A sore ankle is frightening because it reminds me of when I hurt all over all of the time. 

The medication isn’t a one-time solution. I merely opened the door, so I could start a long journey toward healing. And I’m worth it. I deserve to laugh. I deserve to feel good. I deserve to connect with my loved ones. And I deserve their love and suppport.

I’m worth taking care of.


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