This past week marks three months since I informed Bear of my choice to dissolve our marriage. This past weekend, Bear moved out of our shared den. Change is upon us, and things definitely feel more real now after these past few months of arguing, non-reconciliation, tip-toeing around each other, and just trying to get by. But with this move, the internal change is now shifting into the external world, and it's stirring up all sorts of emotions in both of us.
I've been experiencing very intense grief during the past few weeks. I've been crying almost every day again, and mourning what could have been with Bear. The biggest thing that I'm grieving is the loss of a potential child that we were planning for. This year was supposed to be the year that I got pregnant. It is something that I know that I want for myself, deep down inside - to give birth to one amazing human, and to raise that being well. But it is not to be with Bear, and I'm worried that it may never be as I'm nearing the ripe old age of 38. This is causing me immense emotional and spiritual pain as a woman-identified human who has always wanted to give birth, and be a parent (two different things, I know). What hurts the most is how Bear manipulated me this past year by cutting off physical intimacy to avoid getting me getting pregnant, instead of talking about his fears around parenting etc. It feels awful to have been controlled like that from within the relationship. The pain around this "child issue" is made all the more sharper by the fact that at least four of my good friends have given birth in the last year, another is pregnant now, and my Facebook and Instagram feeds have filled up with photos of babies. I just want to throw myself on the ground and cry until there's nothing left to cry. I feel emotionally wrung-out. All that said, I am glad that I'm not dragging a small child through this painful process of separation.
I feel a bit like this centre figure - all my peers are making babies and it's just me alone in the middle...
I'm in the process of drafting a letter to Bear in my head - one that focuses on appreciation, rather than on all the "things that went wrong." I want him to know that I loved him very much, and that I haven't stopped caring for him. In fact, it will be difficult for me to stop caring about him. That I understand what I did that was unhelpful in the past, that I wanted to do and be better, and that I tried really, really hard to make our marriage work. That I totally accept that we are separating with the intent to divorce. That I'm really fucking sad that this happened to us, and that we hurt each other so badly. It's this last statement that has been looping around in my head recently.
This is one of the few metaphors that captures what I'm feeling. It feels a bit like a star going supernova - getting denser, heavier, darker, until it finally collapses inwards and explodes. That's what it feels like inside my brain these days...
Something that Bear has aimed at me during a fight the other week was "how I wanted this" separation. I need to be crystal clear here, I did not want this. I didn't want my marriage to the spouse I chose to make vows to, to implode the way it did. I did not want to hurt Bear, nor to have Bear retaliate in pain, nor for our communication to break down on both ends the way it did. I did NOT want this!!! I tried very hard to stop this from happening, but it was out of my control. I begged and pleaded for Bear to go with me to couples counselling, and he refused until I finally broke down and my heart couldn't take it anymore. He didn't realize until too late how that was the point where he should have taken action in our relationship and done the work with me. Relationships go both ways, not just one way...and I'm tired of being made out to be the bad guy in this scenario because I'm the one who ended it. We are both responsible for what happened between us. And to have a positive, civil, and fruitful relationship in future, we need to drop the blame and be fair. We can have compassion for each other in how we are hurting, but no more rehashing (and revising) the past. It is time to move forward. Even if the steps are painful and slow...
My separation with Bear is affecting my other two relationships as well. Whatever you do to one part of the polycule web, affects the entire web of connections. Last week, I went to Birdfriend's house on our usual after work hangout/date day and I more or less just collapsed myself at their kitchen table after I took off my outerwear. They looked at me and sighed, "Oh dear!" and then I gave them my current "status update" of the tough situation that is my life right now. Birdfriend has been very supportive and has been very compassionate as I share my sadness with them. They have been validating my experience and also reminding me that it's ok to be sad about the loss. Bear and I did have something special, real, and beautiful for many years. Birdfriend is able to see the entire picture, because they've been in relationship with me the entire time that I was with Bear. It is very helpful to have someone who knows "the whole story." With Yak, I've been crying a lot, sharing many thoughts and feelings, and she's been holding me, and holding space for me - which is such a gift. However, I feel like I'm a huge burden on both of my partners - and an emotionally needy one at that. I sometimes feel like pulling my energy back from both of them, to protect them from the shitshow that is me right now. I know that I've been projecting some of my anxious thoughts onto Yak, and that isn't fair. I feel like my partners must see me as a dramatic cry-baby that they don't want around them (even though I know that's just my anxious brain talking). I sometimes wonder if it would be better to just keep to myself and tell them that I'll come back to them when things have settled. Whenever that is...but that isn't really the best thing for me to do either. I tend to push people away from me when I need them the most. And I know that I need the two of them now. I'm just feeling guilty about how I am right now. I'm a bit embarrassed. And I feel incredibly lost, like I'm not sure where I am even though the shell of my body is here. Birdfriend reminds me that these feelings are indicative of depression and isolating behaviours, and reminds me to stay mindful in those moments when I just want to hide and curl into the smallest ball my body can make and cover myself with a blanket.
I've been through so much loss and pain in the past ten years, I sometimes wonder if it's my "normal" state of being. I've lost and reclaimed myself so many times. But now, I'm tired. So incredibly tired. I'm trying to be more gentle with myself as I process this big change and take each day as it comes. Some days I can step back and be more mindful, like the comic strip below, but more often that not, I'm completely overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of my situation.
I don't know what is going to happen in future in either of my relationships, or if I will date others and start more relationships. Everything is up in the air at the moment - my life is a snow-globe turned upside-down, and I am riding out the swirls and eddies as different aspects float past me. I hope to stay grounded during this time of immense transition and I try to feel hopeful that my future will be positive. But mostly, I have no idea how things are going to shake out, and I just have to believe that they will work out for the best.
OK, it's official - I've hit my personal limit...... In the past few weeks, I've been struggling with the ugliness of the news cycle around the Kavanaugh hearings, and the ongoing stressors around finding affordable housing in my city. I feel as though I'm slowly going mad. Memories that I thought where long put to bed have come back to the forefront of my mind. It's hard to process all that is happening in the external world, when there is so much going on in my internal world.
I have been expending what feels like extraordinary amounts of energy to simply get through each day.I know that I've written before about my exhaustion, but things haven't improved from those previous writings, and I'm worn down by the attrition of daily life coupled with the multitude of challenges I'm facing. Housing is a basic human right, and yet my search (which has encompassed talking to everyone I know and even perfect strangers about room-mating, online searches, and endless self-promotion) has so far been fruitless. I'm starting to really fear that I won't find somewhere for me and my cat to live. Especially since Bear has already found alternative housing. It's keeping me up at night! And the lack of sleep is really messing with my cognitive and emotional equilibrium. To help me voice my concerns and to also let other folks in the city know about my plight, I have posted my first ever video to YouTube. And then I shared the video (below) to my Facebook wall, and another group that discusses the housing challenges of our city. My desperation is real...I even said to a coworker the other day, "Who do you have to blow in this city to get housing??!! Because I will gladly get on my knees if it means finding a place to live." She laughed, but I was almost not kidding. It is that bad.
Autumn is upon us and I can feel my depression starting to deepen as the light disappears from our northern hemispheric skies. I've upped my dose of antidepressants to help me adjust to oncoming S.A.D., but honestly, these days just getting up to go to work takes a lot of spoons. I just want to go back to bed, pull the covers over my head, and shut out the outside world. But that doesn't solve the issue, it just delays the anxiety for a little while until it comes right back around, louder and meaner than the first time. Yay, Mental Health Awareness Week.
Hide Away by *B1nd1 on deviantART
Big breath in and out.
Now, turning to the Kavanaugh senate hearings and the testimony of Dr. Blasey Ford (news sources have been dropping her Dr. title as a way to disrespect and discredit her). As a survivor of sexual assault and rape, the news in the past few weeks has been incredibly triggering for me to read and hear about. Memories that I have actively repressed have come right to the surface. Every day, every headline was injurious to read. And then came the day that Dr. Ford had to testify before the senate judiciary hearing committee. I couldn't bring myself to watch the whole thing but I did feel it was important to listen to Dr. Ford's opening statement. And wow, was she ever able to keep herself composed even while sharing some of the most painful and scary memories of her life. Anyone listening to her understood that she had been through something godawful. Hell, even president Drumph himself said that she came across as a very credible witness (until he was told to change his tune and go back to supporting that rapist Kavanaugh). Even Fox News seemed to believe her testimony.
Dr. Ford shares her emotional testimony
Kavanaugh's response was spastic, angry, and conspiratorial. His repetition of, "I like beer," was almost comical if it weren't for the fact that he was using his position of entitlement to make a case. And then, after a brief and rather pathetic FBI investigation into the allegations, the senate confirmed Kavanaugh's nomination to the Supreme Court - the highest judicial body in the USA. And everyone - and I mean everyone - who has ever been a victim of sexual violence lost their shit. Dr. Ford and her family have received numerous death threats, and they've had to move five times already just to stay safe! I simply cannot bear to think that in 2018, an intelligent, honest, and credible woman had her life destroyed again by a piece of shit, entitled, white hetero cis-male who gained even more power at the end of the day. My mind cannot comprehend this miscarriage of justice! All I have been saying in my head for days is "This is RAPE CULTURE in action" and I fear for all those young people growing up in a world where is has happened and is considered OK. How do we explain to younger generations what happened here? What kind of entitled, paternalistic society are we allowing to flourish in the 21 Century? The president added insult to injury when he apologized to Kavanaugh for his "pain and suffering" on the day he was sworn in. Even on Facebook, there's way more apparent support for Kavanaugh, just look at this snip of some of the groups related to him:
The first group, "Confirm Kavanaugh" has more than 10, 000 members!!! Who are these people???
I am in a rage over all this. #Metoo was about holding men accountable, but instead it's being spun as a witch hunt against the hetero, white cis-male establishment. It sickens me to my core.
I am so grateful to news anchors like Trevor Noah who took to the airways to talk about how Drumph uses the Weaponization of Victimhood to continue to back POS like Kavanaugh. Please, if you haven't watched Trevor's monologue, click that link! Stephen Colbert has also had some good interviews with several guests (I'm looking at you, Lady Gaga!) to help understand what happened, and John Oliver continues to lead the pack with his trending work on #feminism. And Samantha Bee is killing it with her monologues! I am also grateful for writers like this one, who help explain to people why so many (specifically) women are so furious with the Kavanaugh appointment confirmation. And to the law students who have been walking out in protest of this appointment. And to Anita Hill, for weighing in on a subject that she (unfortunately) knows so much about. And to singers like this woman, who are setting the record straight and encouraging Americans to go out and vote in the midterm elections:
What does the USA have to do we me, a Canadian? Well, whatever toxic waste is in our basement, it has started to seep into the foundations of our country. We cannot simply ignore what is happening to the south. Especially when a Drumph-esque politician has recently come to power in Ontario (what happened over there??!!!) We need to dismantle the structures of rape culture:
TRIGGER WARNING: descriptions of my sexual assaults and rape follow
And as a survivor, many memories of sexual assault and rape have come flooding to the forefront of my thoughts after listening to Dr. Ford's testimony. I'd like to share some of these "events" with you to show how prevalent they are for women, and perhaps to understand me more?
The first time that I remember being assaulted, I was 13 and in grade 7. I had a crush on a boy that was in my grade and in the school play with me. He knew that I was interested in him. During one of our rehearsals, he grabbed me by the throat and held me against a wall. None of the other kids stopped him. I frantically tried to get away from him because I couldn't breathe. I was afraid that I would pass out from the lack of air, or even worse, that he would accidentally kill me. Eventually, he let go of my throat and laughed, thinking it was hilarious. There were many other kids milling about backstage of the rehearsal. No one intervened. No one said anything. I never told anyone about it until now.
The second time I was 15 or 16, drunk, and hanging out with my friends. We called one of my coworkers over to hang out and we all ran around outside in the rain. Afterwards, he dropped us off at my friend's house to save us the walk back as the rain had worsened into a thunderstorm. He didn't let me out of the car though and locked my door. He sexually assaulted me and I just sat in the car seat frozen in total shock. Eventually, my friends came and got me out of the car... I later told my boyfriend what happened, he believed me at first but after talking to his (guy) friends, he dumped me. I was tainted goods. 😡 And heartbroken and traumatized to boot. I felt so abandoned by the person who was supposed to be on "my side." To say nothing of how difficult it was to have to go back to working with my assailant.
The next time, I was 19 and it was my birthday party. I invited a coworker who I had a crush on over. He brought a few of friends and some booze, and I didn't think anything of it. If thought that I was safe in my own home, I was wrong. The coworker was very inebriated and much stronger than me when he cornered me in my sister's bedroom very late into the night and tried to force himself on me. I told him that I didn't want to have sex, but he didn't listen. He kept going. I got away from him and ran to the bathroom, but he chased after me. He forced himself on me again in the bathroom as I twisted and turned and tried to flee. I was raped in my own home during my own 19th birthday party. I went to the youth health clinic a couple days later where they checked me over and suggested that I report the rape. I didn't report the rape because I was scared, and part of me felt responsible for it happening (even though I know it's not the truth). I didn't really run into that rapist at work again, but I did run into him at a party, which was super traumatizing for me and I had to leave early.
The next time, it was around Halloween the year I was 19 years old (so about 10 months after my birthday rape). I went out with my boyfriend, a 28 year old guy, and some of his friends to a party in the East Side warehouse district. I had a great night and had planned to sleep the night at my boyfriend's house. He had a friend also crashing on the couch there as well. My boyfriend had gotten very drunk that night, and was impossible to sleep next to with his flailing limbs and snoring, and drunken sleep-talking. His roommate wasn't home, so I decided to camp out in her room for the night. In the middle of the night, his friend came into the roommate's room and began to remove the sheets from the bed until my body was exposed. Then he tried to strip off my panties...all while I was still asleep!!! I woke up part way through, freaked out, and tried to fight him off. I kicked him square in the face, and that finally made him stop. In the morning, I told my boyfriend what happened, but he was too hungover to really understand what had transpired. Later, his friend told my boyfriend and his entire circle of friends how I had "wanted it" and that I'm just a "dumb young slut." The sad part is, my boyfriend actually believed his lying, shit-bag of a friend. I was in shock, crushed, and numbly stayed with this asshole of a boyfriend for another six months. Man, all of those sexual assaults really took their toll on my self-esteem. 😢
The last time, I was about 21 years old and I was at a fraternity party on my university campus. I had been drinking and was in a flirty mood. I messed around with a guy and had a good time with him. I went back inside the frat house trying to find the friend that I came to the party with but couldn't find her. I went down a dark hall that was crowded with men, saying that I was looking for my friend. One of the men led me into a room. I told him that I didn't want to have sex, that I was looking for my friend. He thought that I was looking for sex regardless, why else would I walk down that dark hallway? I was pressured into having sex with this stranger, but used a condom for harm-reduction purposes. When I reported it to the RCMP, they called me a liar and completely re-traumatized me. During the police report filing, I discovered that my assailant had given me a fake name,
and to make matters worst the frat stonewalled the police and tried to discredit me. "Bros before hos" to the end. When I received help from WAVAW on campus, my story brought about an initiative for all campus RCMP members to have sensitivity training for dealing with sexual assault survivors. Every member except for the one who interviewed me took the training. She (she!) flat-out refused the training. It was a punch in the gut. I told friends of mine what happened and they told me that what happened wasn't rape because I gave the dude a condom. I'm sorry, but if you are trapped in a dark room, in a building you don't know, with a stranger who is much bigger and stronger than you, and you can't get away...don't you think that still counts as rape/assault? Why split hairs over this? I lost some friends over this - many of them were women friends that I had known for years. I just don't understand the lack of solidarity amongst women sometimes.
These are the "major" sexual assaults that I have dealt with in my lifetime. You'll notice they're all perpetrated by men, and I knew all of them except the frat boy. But as a petite, pretty femme, I have experienced a myriad of other micro and macro sexual aggressions in my lifetime, and I simply cannot list them all here. But I am not alone in my experiences, sadly. I am not a victim of what happened to me, I am a survivor. And I cannot tolerate anyone who thinks that bringing a rapist or sexual predator to justice is a bad thing. We can no longer gloss over the aggressions of white males in our society. You'll also notice that most of my assaults involved alcohol use, and this is a well-documented substance used for sexual assault and rape:
For the longest time, I thought that these assaults and rapes were my fault. I had internalized rape culture - that I was somehow responsible for these men crossing my boundaries to hurt and injure me for their own gain, amusement, enjoyment, ego boost etc. Through extensive counselling, honest discussions, and self-exploration, I have managed to heal from these trespasses. But I will never forget them. And I know that Dr. Ford won't either. I'm not afraid of these memories anymore. They do not define me. And yes, I'll have to probably continue to work on healing my heart, my sexuality, and my mind when it comes to sex - especially sex with men. I've noticed that I am no longer sexually interested in men. Part of it is the fallout of my marriage and separation from Bear, but another part of it is that my interest in men has begun to fade since the #metoo campaign began. I don't know if I'll want to have sex with a man again, the jury is out on that. But I know that I am not in any kind of hurry to go and explore that with any guy at the moment. I love my male friends, especially the woke ones, but dating/sex is off the table for me until further notice.
I'm cozied up in my bed right now, drinking cider from a stoneware mug and reminiscing on more than two years of blogging here in this section of cyberspace. I recall how much trepidation I had about starting this writing project. How I didn't want to be just another white woman with a blog blah blah blah. How I was encouraged to use my voice anyways, how I learned to be a better ally to QTIPOC folx , how important it is to share stories, and to make space to listen to each other. While blogging can sometimes feel like a one-way conversation, I do get feedback mostly on Facebook and through FB Messenger, and I hear all of you! And what I hear is how similar our shared experiences are. No matter our gender, background, age, beliefs... And it gives me hope to carry on. Not just with writing this blog, but with living. And that, dear readers, is an amazing gift that you've given me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
Today is also Bisexual (and Pansexual) Visibility Day! It happens to also be the 20th anniversary of this day! So many celebrations today! The first one was held in Johannesburg, South Africa in Sept 1999.
If you want to know about the history of Bisexual Awareness and Visibility campaigns, I highly suggest that you check out Bisexual History on Facebook. Their writers have a thorough catalogue of all things historically bi!
As I said last year, I identify as Queer - this is partly because I feel like its a better descriptor for me than bi or pan and it also comes with a political bent to it. More and more people understand what queer means now, but sometimes I come across a person that isn't aware that the word has been reclaimed by the community (Qmmunity!) In fact, my city apparently had a bit of an ethical debate over using the term Year of the Queerfor the annual Pride festivities. From the article:
And I feel the same as Osmel, that reclaiming the word Queer is an act of power. The word cannot be used against me because I joyously use it to describe myself .😄
However, when people are unaware of what queer means, I often revert to using the term bi because most folx understand what that means (with some rather unhealthy stereotypes thrown in). But then again, this meme captures what often happens:
In fact, it's kind of happened to me in my own home... During one of our fights, Bear accused me of changing sexualities. That is, he shouted/asked me if I told my mother that I am no longer attracted to men. This really bothered me. I may be more of a 4 than a 3 on the Kinsey Scale (if you subscribe to such outdated models of sexuality) but I am still attracted to men. I'm just no longer attracted to him. I still find men attractive, but I'm not looking to start anything new with anyone. No matter what their gender.
Pretty awesome shot of what looks like a falcon or corvid with a yak. From this Flickr account.
I'm starting to "prepare myself" for the return of Birdfriend and Yak. It's hard to believe that they've been gone for more than five months, out in the wilderness, and hiking more than 2600 miles of the PCT. We've been writing and sending packages to each other, which has made their absence easier to bear. Plus all those messenger chats and video calls - I really appreciate the effort these two have made to stay in contact with me over the miles. And now there's less than a week until they return home! It feels a little unreal. In some ways, I don't feel "ready" for their return. I've had to stuff many of my thoughts and feelings into jars and shelve them for later consideration. But it's been hard to make space for that with all the apartment hunting, selling of my possessions, and cleaning my current residence because it's for sale and my landlady is aggressively showing it to prospective buyers. Then you add ongoing emotional abuse at home and you can understand when I say that my stress level is rather HIGH.
That said, I'm really looking forward to seeing the two of these beasts again! I miss them more than words can say. I am looking forward to reconnecting with my D/s energy again. I have definitely felt the absence of power play and the feel of heated flesh under my palm after giving a good spanking...I know that Birdfriend is also looking forward to reconnecting through play as well. It's been weird for me, sitting out all the kink parties all summer. And Yak....I am looking forward to all the cuddles, laughter, and spiritual connection that being with her brings. I worry that I may turn into a sobbing mess when I seem them both again, like when Birdfriend and Yak left, but I think not somehow. I think that I'm just ready for them to come home. Ready to have them physically near me again, in three dimensions, not just two. I'm organizing them a wee onesie/pj party to celebrate their return. So excited for cuddles!!! I know that all three of us are cuddle-deprived (for various reasons), so it'll be good to have my oxytocin tank refilled. It's damn near empty...
A sweet card that Birdfriend sent me from Oregon. So much love and cuddles!
Since I was in my mid-teens, I've suffered from depression. It's a kind of low-grade, background noise most of the time...something I can drown out with a busy life, keeping my living quarters tidy, and writing. For the past nine or so years though, it's become a louder sound, and much harder to drown out through external world controls. It's like my depression used to be the sound of distant waves on the beach, and slowly, somehow over time I'm standing right next to the shore, and the waves are lapping at my feet. I sometimes feel the suck and pull of the ocean of sadness, wanting to tow me under, and the seductive feel of letting go...
Today is
or so Facebook told me. I've been wanting to write another blog about what's going on in my head, and today seemed like a rather appropriate day to do so. Especially after the epic fight that Bear and I had yesterday.
Depression is an illness that runs in my biological family - my grandfather had it, my uncle had it, my aunt has it, my half-sister has it, and I have it. I do believe in the power of genetics, especially given that I am adopted and my adoptive family doesn't have depression scattered all the way through. When it first came on in my teen years, it was such a bewildering sensation. It seemed to originate from a deep pervasive feeling that I wasn't good enough. I have different hypotheses as to why I felt that way, but for sure, puberty coupled with my father becoming an alcoholic definitely had much to do with it.
As the years went on, I felt bouts of depression come and go but I was mostly able to manage it with some counseling and goal-setting. Until my car accidents... Between November 2009 and May 2011, I experienced three car accidents. The last one, I was actually a cyclist that was struck by a car making an illegal turn at one of the most dangerous intersections in my city (Burrard & Pacific, right before the bridge). These accidents (especially the last one) have altered the way my body functions forever. I know, because it's been 9 years and I'm still in pain and have limitations to how much I can work, and the kind of work I can perform. The sense of personal loss after multiple injuries is something that is hard to describe. It's devastating. It's demotivating. It's terrifying. It's lonely as hell. And you never know how much of your body's functionality you are going to get back. So having faith in the process was difficult.
Almost five years ago, I lost my 19-month old nephew in a horrific car accident a week before Christmas. That loss has affected my family so deeply, we are still grieving to this day. The death of my nephew was senseless, I kind of lost my mind after he died. I couldn't understand how the world could take away such a young kid, before he really had a chance to taste life. And then in September 2014, while I was away traveling in Europe, I found out that my biological uncle (whom I had never met) had committed suicide in his remote cabin in the woods in Ontario. Then, only seven months later, in April 2015, my dad passed away from cancer caused by his alcoholism/addiction to cigarettes. My depression became a tsunami, that swallowed me whole after that. I couldn't focus enough to be effective at work, and so I took three months off to grieve my dad and to try and get my head "in order." It would be accurate to say that I have depression with compounded grief and PTSD trauma from those car accidents and previous sexual assaults. I started taking an antidepressant, starting going to counseling more regularly, focused on doing things that were good for me and let my emotions flow freely so that I wouldn't get somatic problems (aka what my RMT calls "issues in my tissues").
How depression feels to me a lot of the time. Like I am a condensed ball of human flesh, with all the sadness and madness written into my skin for all to see (and judge).
Three years later, I'm through my grief for my dad, and now I'm grieving the loss of my primary relationship. This loss, coupled with some financial woes (f-u Phoenix!) has caused my depression to spiral in the past few months. Plus, not having the major support of my two other relationships around me has made this summer rather hellish in my head. I have been thinking some really dark thoughts lately. It's not an easy thing to admit, let alone to write about and publish online. But it is my reality. And it's awful let me tell you. Living with these thoughts rolling around in my brain is uncomfortable and scary. I have to check my thoughts often and, as in meditation, watch them and try not to judge them, and hopefully let them sail on by. But sometimes, as when ships get caught in a storm, the thoughts cannot be controlled. Sometimes, I am not able to get a hold of the steering wheel and right the ship. Sometimes, I have to let my thoughts pitch and roll over the bubbling sea of my mind and I just have to hang on as hard as I can. Sometimes, I can find my voice and ask for help. Other times, I just cry and cry and feel so exhausted by life. So exhausted by existing. And utterly alone.
That's the worst part about depression, I think. How alone it makes you feel. That loneliness creates a feeling of isolation so complete that death seems like the obvious next step. Which is horrifying. But it's how the depressed brain often thinks. I recall telling my co-workers last year about how when I'm depressed, that I feel like no one in the world at all cares about me. The coworkers promptly changed the subject. Because it was an uncomfortable thought. But it's so real for me. And I just wanted to feel less alone, but changing the subject just made me feel more alone. Readers, if you truly want to make a depressed person feel better, hold their hand and tell them this:
What's been extremely difficult in my primary relationship is that my mental health has been used against me by Bear in arguments. Something that is not only unfair, but also extremely emotionally abusive. My mental health became the main "reason" why we didn't have a child together - something I'm equally happy and sad about. Happy because I'm not subjecting a small child to this separation. Sad because I actually really want to be a mother. It's one thing to have fear about a possible unknown future event, it's another thing to let that fear to control when and if things happen in a relationship. His fear around my depression and suicidal thoughts created a sense of shame in me for being the way I was. But more over, it has became clear that he "cannot handle my mental health issues" (his words, not mine). And so, I've had to create a boundary now whereby my mental health is no longer a topic up for discussion. I need to feel respected by my partner, no matter if I'm having a good mental health day, or I'm crying in the bathtub and don't know if I can make it through the day. For some good tips on how to support a partner with a mental illness, click here. And remember, having a mental illness is not an excuse to treat someone you love poorly either. Respect goes both ways...
If you are suffering from depression or another mental illness, I personally want to assure you that you are NOT alone. The hardest thing to do is reach out for help, but I promise you that reaching out is not only the thing you MUST learn to do, it is a life-saving action. What I've learned is that many people I know and love have some kind of mental illness or have experienced bouts of it at some point or other in their lives. People do understand, and more and more, workplaces are taking note and providing Employee Assistance Programs (EAPs) and offering training on mental wellness and resiliency. Stigma for mental illness is being tackled with promotional materials, billboards, and days like today, where we as a world acknowledge that suicide is a reality for humanity, and we need to reduce stigma, educate ourselves and each other, and support those who need support. If you need help right now, please reach out for support:
It's been over a month since I had "the talk" with Bear about my decision to separate. The actual talk was awful - I won't go into detail because it's not really anyone's business - but let's just say that literally all the things that I was worried about regarding Bear's reaction came true. Which was really painful (not to mention, extremely disappointing) to experience, let me tell you. It's a rather intense thing, making the decision to separate from one's spouse. Then communicating that decision to your spouse is another, even more intense thing. But the spousal reaction/response to the decision, well, that is next level intensity. I had so much anxiety about relaying my decision to Bear. It made it difficult to be around him, during that weird time when I knew but he didn't... I worked with my counsellor to realize that there is a time and place for these conversations, and that it was OK for me to bring up this decision when we weren't at a festival etc. Still, the anxiety inside my body kept me up at night, put knots in my belly whenever I thought about having "the talk."
I actually have had this moment, where I took off my wedding ring and felt so lost and unhappy...
I waited until we were back from the annual Burn in the Forest event to have the conversation. To say that Bear took it badly would be an understatement. The only way I can describe it is that he projected all sorts of horrible things at and onto me in a fit of defensiveness and without a doubt, made me the bad guy in this situation. He simply did not want to hear me. He was in severe pain, I could tell. But being in pain is NOT an excuse or a pass for treating anyone so poorly. I felt awful, inflicting pain onto this person that I have been with for more than six years of my life. I hate, hate, hatehurting people that I care about. It tears me up inside! But my need for self-preservation trumped just "sticking it out" in a marriage that wasn't working for me.
What do I mean by self-preservation? Well, I could feel a hollowing-out of my personal identity. I felt an actual loss of sense of self. Like I was actually disappearing as a person. Which, after some Google searching, seems to actually be rather common - especially for women. I was giving so much that parts of myself started to slide away. I just knew deep inside of me that if I stayed, there would be nothing left of me. It was so incredibly painful to experience. Some days I felt resignation - that this would be the way my marriage would always feel. Other days I rejected it and and know that I shouldn't have to give up being me to be with him, and that he loves me for me. But the erosion of my sense of self continued it's painful progress. It felt a bit like this painting:
Self Portrait, "Disappearing" by artist Adrienne Stein.
During the past five weeks, I've been navigating an emotional minefield at home. Home is no longer a place to simply be and relax. It truly is a no-one's land where each of us is huddled in our own "bunkers," occasionally wandering into the breach for talks that sometimes escalate into fights. Thus, I have been somewhat hiding from my spouse and trying focus instead on my cat and things that I need to do for my own well-being. Bear hides in his room as well, often shutting the door so that he doesn't have to see me. It's so isolating and strange considering that only a few months ago we were still hanging out and getting along OK. It's also strange because I've been with this person for six years - my longest relationship to date - and it feels alien to be in the same space and yet not really coexist (if that makes sense).
Bear has been alternating between being a charging grizzly bear who is unable to be respectful towards me, and a Winnie-the-Pooh-esque platonic version of his former "normal" self. This platonic version of him actually sets my mind to overthinking - is he in denial that this separation is happening? Is he being nice because he realizes being rude/aggressive doesn't elicit the response he wants? Has he realized that I deserve to be treated with respect despite the fact that I've broken his heart? Is he trying to win me back? I have no idea what is going on with him, and I don't feel like I'm able to ask without being subjected to more emotional abuse. It's rather difficult to maneuver in this situation when I never know which version of Bear I'm going to get. I'm experiencing somewhat of a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation. It makes me deeply sad that this person that I was in love with and built my life around would treat me so poorly. Talk about a mind-fuck! I've even instituted a count (in my head) of how many days it's been since I was last yelled at. Kind of like one of these in the workplace:
One of the sources of these fights is this blog... Bear does not like that I share what's going on with the world: "at least I'm not broadcasting our break-up all over the internet!!!" Well, I want to take a moment and address this statement for a moment. Another friend of mine (and member of my extended polycule/queer family), Moose, shared his concerns with me about my sharing the break-up here on this blog. His perspective is that, it's private and doesn't concern anyone else. OK, fair, and I do see how Bear feels the same way. But then Moose went on to say, "but this is YOUR blog, and it's obviously been healthy for you to share what's been going on." And it's true, sharing this information actually does help me process the here-and-now. The other reason why I share here on this blog is, well, it's a blog about relationships! And my life! Plus, I understand the value of stories. My story is your story. We are all connected. I'm sure there are readers who have read my past few blog posts and have been nodding their heads in self-recognition with my words.
It's now been two weeks since I last had emotionally abusive words hurled in my direction. For which, I am VERY grateful. Holding myself in a kind of ongoing state of readiness (fight/flight/freeze) has been rather exhausting for me. I'm depleted so easily these days. People keep asking me how I'm doing. "Fine" is all I really feel like saying some days because I have nothing but a long-winded, complicated answer to that perfectly simple, straightforward question. And often, I don't think these folks actually want to know what's really going on with me.
Depression has hit me hard during this time of immense transition, and I am definitely grieving this loss of relationship. I'm grieving the loss of my best friend, lover, spouse, confidante, key support person, activity partner, and cuddle buddy. I'm losing my home. I'm losing stability. I'm saying goodbye to something that only a year + ago I thought I was saying hello to for a long time. I'm financially struggling and affordable housing seems to be out of reach for me at the moment. More than anything, I wish that I could grieve all this loss with Bear. I wish that we could talk and hold one another, and cry together and know that we loved each other well. That we did our best. That although our marriage has "failed," that all the love, time, care, and memories do count for something - that there were successes in our relationship too. Although we are parting, what we had was valuable, educational, and will be sorely missed. I'm bouncing through the various stages of grief and seem to oscillate between madness, depression, acceptance, disengagement etc.
Remember folks, grief is not linear!
It's a weird time to be in my head. I'm sure it's a weird time to be around me right now as well. Many of you have asked me, "what can I do to make your situation better?" Well....here's a handy list: offer me hugs/cuddles; offer to help me pack up my things for my upcoming move; offer to take me out for a drive; offer to buy me lunch or dinner; invite me to go for a walk in the evenings; invite me to low-cost or no-cost events and outings; help me search for housing; help me move when the time comes; tell me that I'm doing/looking/being awesome especially when I'm feeling like a hopeless, lost, loser; remind me that this too shall pass even if I try to take a swipe at you; make me laugh with silly memes; bring me chocolate; make me things from your own hands; tell me that I'm going to get through this, not only intact, but stronger and smarter than before. Your words and actions really matter during this tough time. More than many of you may know...
A couple months have gone by since my last blog post. I was really hoping to have a good news story to be able to share with my readers about how things have been slowly resolving in my relationship with Bear, but that's unfortunately not what I'm about to relate in this blog. I've been a rather Sad Siren of late, and the world has taken notice. I'm one of those people who wears their emotions on their face, and even coworkers have come up to me to ask me what's wrong. I'm now ready to start sharing more in the hopes that it will provide some clarity for me in the future, and perhaps serve as a place of connection for anyone with a similar story.
"Sad Mermaid" by doming on DeviantArt. Bear has often used the nickname mermaid for me in the past. I also resonate with with the mermaid/siren (check out The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene and you'll get an inkling of what I'm talking about).
I've been going through one of the toughest experiences I have ever encountered in my romantic life. I've been struggling with the person that should be working with me, instead of working against me by focusing on placing blame on past actions. I've been trying so hard to make this relationship with Bear work for years, I felt it must be worth all the struggle...and I did feel a sense of accomplishment when we got married - that we managed to survive and get through some hard years together (my nephew's death, my dad getting cancer and dying, my mom getting cancer [in remission thank goddess], Bear losing his job, searching for housing in an insane market, etc). But the past 7-9 months have felt a lot like this:
And it's exhausting, to say the least.
I have tried. I did everything I could to try to help Bear understand that I really did want things to work out between us, and I wanted us to work together on what was holding us back as a partnership...but he got stuck on one point and couldn't "see the forest for the trees." He stayed stuck in that place because he thought that I wasn't hearing him, either intentionally or not...but instead of lovingly taking me to task, he allowed his frustration to turn into resentment and he began being distant, projecting his fears and insecurities at me, and I froze and surrendered my voice in those moments. This went on for several months until I started to crack. I asked that we go seek couples counseling together - I asked/followed up for eight straight weeks. He wasn't working for almost six of those weeks but never picked up the phone to find us a counselor. In that time, Bear refused to see a counselor with me unless I saw one first to "deal with my issues." Cue me sobbing every day for about 9-10 weeks... I've been waiting for him but I ran out of rope to hold onto in my mind.
At the end of my rope, with no support from my spouse, I realized that I didn't want to be in this marriage anymore. And so I spent the next five weeks working with a new (to me) counselor that has helped me re-frame my entire relationship with Bear (not just our year+ of marriage). I had to make sure that this was truly the choice I wanted for my life. I mean, we did just move in together less than a year ago, and we did so much work to get here. But the "here" just hasn't been working out and over the past month I realized that I'm done. I have nothing left to give here in this relationship, and what's more, I have been told time and time again by my friends that I have done everything I possibly could to save my marriage.
But that only makes you feel a little bit better. It's hard not to feel like an utter failure when your marriage dies after only a year. But counseling has helped me to pull back, and look at the entirety of the relationship - at the 10,000 foot level so to speak. And what I'm seeing is a lot of struggle. Bear said (rather, he shouted at me) that "Life is a struggle, and so are relationships," but I don't really think that they should be all struggle all the time. And that's what the majority of our relationship has felt like to me - one big struggle. I'm tired of struggling.
Yes, this! This is how I feel love should be.
I'm currently in a state of mourning for my relationship. I've been crying a fair bit, but it's a different kind of crying than the past several months. It's a letting-go kind of crying, rather than a frustrated-at-the-end-of-my-rope kind of crying. I feel a shift happening deep inside of me as I listen to my authentic voice each day. I have made this choice. It wasn't easy. But I do know in my bones and in my heart that this is the right choice for us both. Even if Bear can't see it now, I hope he will one day.
We will likely go see a couples counselor now to help us sort out lingering issues between us, and to help our separation transition go more smoothly. I don't hate Bear, and I don't want us to hurt each other any more. I sincerely wish him peace in his heart and love in his life. I don't know if we'll continue to be in each other's lives given that this is not what he wants, but I truly wish the following for the two of us humans who did their best to make it work:
It's been awhile since I posted anything of a personal nature on this blog. The main reason has been that I have been living some pretty intense experiences in my polyamorous life. I wasn't willing to write or post anything about what I'm going through while I was in the middle of it because I don't often like to publish information about my life that's half-baked, so to speak. It can also be a hard balance, to write about polyamory but try to not overshare and accidently hurt one of my partners' feelings. But it does happen. I try to be sensitive towards my different partners, but at the same time - this is my blog, and it's really healthy for me to express what's going on; and it's potentially helpful for others to read about my experiences as relatable, so I'm going to share some stuff now that's been rolling around in my head for the past while.
A silly rendering of what I imagine their PCT days are like...
About a month ago now, two of my partners, Birdfriend and Yak, left to go hike the Pacific Crest Trail (or PCT here on out). It's been a bewildering time for me to adjust to two of my favourite humans gone from my immediate surroundings. Folks that I would spend a few evenings/days a week with are gone - I cannot see, touch, smell, or hear them. To say that my social life has been utterly re-arranged would be putting things a bit mildly... I have been reaching out to ensure that my schedule stays full so that I don't get lonely. I still have some opportunities to chat with both of them, but now on a weekly basis instead of a daily one. Birdfriend has a cell phone that allows them to text from the wilderness, but service is spotty. Such is technology in the bush. However, this access to Birdfriend is something I cherish and am so grateful for them for arranging this in advance of this hike. But it doesn't make up for sharing space in real time together. I miss our weekly get-together where we connect deeply and get to cuddle or play. Yak has no phone access while on the trail at all, which I'm finding challenging but I'm trying to adapt to this limitation. About once a week, I get to have internet-assisted conversation with Yak. It helps to be able to see her face/hear her voice when video calls are possible. But it doesn't make up for the physical aspect of our relationship - I miss our hugs, cuddles, sleepovers. I ache for her in a very visceral way. I miss these two creatures very deeply. It's really hard to be without them but I am so, so very proud of these two for dreaming big and then making that dream a reality. It's inspiring!
Graphic depicting what my mental preparation was like...
While the two were getting ready to leave for this six month PCT adventure, I spent that time mentally preparing myself for two of my dearest loves to be away from me. I wrote out a list of items that I want to focus on in my life while they are away. I shared my fears, concerns, and wishes with both of them and with others so that I would be well supported in their absence. And, I prioritized spending as much time with Birdfriend and Yak as possible before they left. This caused some tension with my other relationships (including friendships) as I had to tell people that I was all booked up until the middle of April. I don't like telling people that I don't have space for them, but it happened. If you are one of my friends who has heard this from me, I apologize and would like to find time to get together again!
Quote reads, "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." Very true for me!
The day that Birdfriend and Yak left, I cried so much. I cried off and on for an entire day - it's not an exaggeration. I felt that I had to apologize for my avalanche of tears to the two, but they told me that it was normal for me to be teary-eyed. I felt like a blathering, snotty-nosed idiot. It was a day of extremes - Birdfriend and Yak were riding on a freedom high, and I was riding a current so low that I was worried the wave would never break. I was exhausted after that day. It felt strange feeling a maelstrom of emotions as they went through the security gate at the airport. I yelled to Yak that I loved her, and I turned and broke down into sobs. I felt so much love, promise, and joy, and at the same time, sadness, worry, and grief. The few days after they left I was numb.
I'm feeling a bit less numb these days, and not grieving as hard as I was when Birdfriend and Yak first left. But I miss them both so incredibly much! I feel as though parts of me are missing, and I feel strange inside... I don't know if I'll get to visit them at Crater Lake in Oregon like I originally wanted. I may have to just wait until the end of September when they have completed their hike. Sigh.
Thoughts clashing...
I haven't been writing much about my relationship with Bear lately. This is for complicated reasons, but suffice to say that it's been a very challenging first year of marriage. We've moved in together, had some plumbing/renovation hell, and got a cat. I know that everyone says that the first year is the hardest, but wow. I know that I can be a difficult person to be with sometimes, I have flaws and can act in hurtful ways at time when I am distracted, drunk, or both. I did some things last year that hurt my relationship with Bear, and unfortunately, the consequences of those actions are still causing tension in our relationship. Bear and I have been fighting a lot lately. We haven't been very happy with each other, and for valid reasons on both sides. I've been doing some really deep diving into myself to understand my feelings, to communicate them to Bear, and to find a path forward. The last two items are the hardest, as I find that what I communicate doesn't always get fully understood, and I can't control how Bear will react.
Basically, there are two main issues: ideological and behavioural. Ideologically, we are mismatched in that Bear's a lot more focused on primary/couple-centred experience of polyamory and I'm more solo-poly in my approach. Bear is my primary in that we have merged the infrastructure of our lives together but he needs to be put first always...and I sometimes have a hard time doing that because I don't believe in hierarchy as much as I used to when I first got involved with polyamory. I think I'm ok with descriptive hierarchy rather than prescriptive hierarchy. That is, it describes my relationships but it doesn't prescribe what happens in those relationships.
I'm not sure if we can find a middle ground on our poly ideology, but I hope with the help of an empathetic counsellor, we can find/create one. I don't think that our ideologies are necessarily incompatible, and I really think there is some common ground there.
Now behaviour...the biggest thing I am noticing is how different our natural cycles are now that we've cohabitated for more than six months. I'm a morning person, Bear isn't. I'm neat and tidy, Bear makes a mess everywhere and doesn't consistently clean up after himself. I'm social, and have many friends and activities outside the home, Bear doesn't. I try to eat pretty healthy most of the time, but Bear is happy with Kraft Singles cheese and doesn't eat vegetables or fruit unless prompted. I limit myself to a maximum of two hours of TV/Netflix a day, but Bear is addicted and watches many hours of TV every day. I like to make goals for my year and try to plan a few things out, Bear doesn't seem to do this at all. And as a planner type person, I really need this in a relationship.
Quote from Chuck & Ann Bentley. The focus of this quote is monetary, but I believe it applies to other goals for couples.
You see what I'm getting at. We are not compatible on a behavioural level. It's kind of driving me a bit nuts. Our relationship actually felt better to me when we lived apart because I wasn't confronted with these behaviours on a daily basis. I didn't know how Bear lived as a bachelor as I was rarely invited to his place and thought that he would be more social when we lived together. But that hasn't been my experience so far. And it's very stressful. I feel unfulfilled when I'm at home and it's making me very unhappy. I am willing to try to work with Bear to find a way of being that is more compatible, but I wonder about how attached he is to these old patterns, and if he's willing to do the work to change those habits. I've been asking for months to go for walks with him, go to the gym down the hall from our place, do more activities together but he always says no. It feels limiting to say the least. I sometimes feel like an asshole that I'm not happy with what I have - a sweet Bear of a man who works really hard, and does love me. But it's my truth. And it sucks.
I really love Bear and I hope that we can get on the same page again soon. I hope that with couples counselling, and more open sharing that we can rekindle our flame and find a way forward that is uniquely ours. This is my intention and my hope. I hope that he considers how his behaviours at home can cause distance and that he works on finding a way of being that is more congruent with my way of being. Otherwise our home life is going to be a place of constant stress and not peace. And I know that ultimately, neither of us wants that for our shared den.
