Guest Blog: Acting out of Trust vs. Fear

Fear. 

Outside of our basic survival instincts, fear is perhaps the number one motivator for the human race. Maybe for all sentient life. Acting out of fear rarely gives us the opportunity to show up as our best selves, and this can and will often cause harm in our relationships. This has been true for me and has had dire consequences. 

Fear is pervasive in our society. It’s so common we don’t always notice it when it’s being leveraged or applied. When it’s factored into our decision making process, it often feels like a valid consideration vs. a problematic aspect. Or something that flies under the radar. This creates problems in a number of ways: we take away our partner’s agency, infantilize them, and rob ourselves of our autonomy, opting instead for the decision that appears to limit the perceived harm. Self-preservation is a tricky thing. This is born, at least for me, out of the desire to control the outcome and hopefully mitigate my partner’s bad feelings. Not a healthy move, but it happens.

Fear is a powerful thing. As I write this, I’m dealing with the repercussions of decisions I made out of fear. Looking back, I knew what the right choice was, but opted for the one that I felt would “hurt” my partner less. Doing so led to a host of issues; from unethical behavior to resentment. Doing the right thing would have caused less harm. I probably knew this, but I acted out of fear. 

It’s human nature to seek control when we are scared. In the above example, I was afraid of losing someone important to me. I sought to minimize my fear by controlling their reactions. If I can make them feel safe, I thought, I won’t need to face my fear of them having bad feelings and considering me unworthy as a partner. We can never truly control anything but ourselves, so it’s imperative that we learn to control how we act in response to what happens to us. I’m not talking about the feelings we get when things happen, but rather our behavior in response to those feelings.

The way we do this is by acting out of trust instead of fear. Not only trusting others as I should have in the earlier example, but also out of trust of self. And really, the latter is the most important.

When we act out of trust, we grant ourselves permission to act in our own best interests. We also stop trying to control others since we trust them to act in their own best interests. Both can be done in a way that doesn’t negatively impact others. For me? I was afraid of hurting someone by doing something perfectly normal. Instead I hurt them by acting out of fear.

Psychologists have known a rather complex (and yet oddly simple) truth for decades: external events/people can not MAKE us feel a certain way, even though it seems that way.

We enter into situations with our own expectations and even baggage/trauma. Those expectations directly impact the way we feel about the event or person. Here’s an example Dr. Edelstein provides from Chapter 1 of his book Three Minute Therapy:

Suppose a hundred airplane passengers are unexpectedly given parachutes and instructed to jump from the plane. If a physical situation alone could cause emotions, then all the hundred people would feel the same way. But obviously those who regard skydiving positively are going to have a [reaction] very different from the others.

I made my decisions based on expectations I had of my partner’s reactions instead of giving them the opportunity to have their reactions, own them and show up as their best self.

So what does acting out of trust look like? 

  • Trusting your partner to own their insecurities regarding your actions. 
  • Trusting your partner to share their insecurities without expecting you to alter your behavior. 
  • Trust your decisions and actions are perfectly OK, even if it appears to make your partner feel a certain way. 

In my case, my partner’s feelings were valid and I didn’t trust them to show up as their best self because of those fears. Had I? Things would have gone very differently.

Trust yourself to act with integrity and work to show up that way. Trust your partner(s) to own their struggles and not penalize you for them. Trust that everything will be OK . . . even when it may not feel like it. Trust yourself so that fear won’t control your actions.

* * *

Since mid 2016, Adam (he/him) has been an educator and presenter in the ENM community. He realized he was poly in high school and has practiced various forms of non-monogamy ever since. With a primary goal of normalizing a variety of relationship structures, he shows up as his authentic self: an egalitarian polyamorist who practices relationship anarchy.

Image credit: Photo by Scott Web on Unsplash

Imposter Syndrome: I am so bad at poly!!

I suffer from Imposter Syndrome: the phenomenon of feeling like you suck at something regardless of evidence to the contrary. That label rings true for me when it comes to polyamory. People ask me for advice! Support! My opinions!! They read my blog! They come hear me speak! But OMG you guys, I am so bad at this sometimes . . . 

There are all sorts of ways folks measure success in relationships, but most of those are based on monogamous ideology. In non-monogamy we hold up concepts like autonomy, compersion, kitchen-table poly, egalitarianism, owning your shit, and being “out” as holy grails of doing things right. I’m not here to tell you any of those things are right or wrong, or that if you aspire to them, you should not . . . but I would like you to know that if you’re trying, and you’re not perfect, that that’s okay, too.

All of these things challenge the dominant narrative in the culture I hail from, and there are not a ton of viable role models or support networks readily available to reinforce my positive attitude towards non-monogamy.

Sometimes I find dark places in which it seems like it would be so much easier to give up my hard-won autonomy and submit to rules I don’t believe in just to feel like I’m at least doing something right.

I mean, I won’t do that – I know myself well enough to know that while I was able to function that way for nearly a decade and a half, I don’t ever want to do it again. I do, however, miss the security of following the path of greatest acceptance – that all my socially reinforced expectations of my partner were justified. I miss not second-guessing my wants and needs, and I miss not wondering if I’m just a shitty partner half the time.

At times, I feel overwhelmed spending large amounts of energy unlearning all the ways in which society taught me to experience love. Talking myself out of wanting to be prioritized above other people my partner is close to. Accepting family holidays don’t belong to just me and a partner alone. Dismantling ownership in close relationships. Relearning “special.” Relearning what it means to be sexually partnered. Relearning what love looks like. Relearning what safe looks like. Weighing how important it really is that other people approve of my life. Making sure I let that go. Thinking of the children!! Being brave. Being strong. No, not like that. Doing things I’ve never been taught and perhaps have to make up as I go. Being okay while I do it, or . . . faking it ‘til I make it.

But I also know this: it takes a lot of courage to live authentically, regardless of how others perceive you. And, to commit to doing “the work” when struggling, even when you don’t have anyone with experience to lean on. Challenging the status quo is totally worth it, but we do ourselves a disservice when we pretend it’s a cake walk.

I’m much better at finding compassion for folks at various points in their emotional journey than I am for finding that grace with my own self. 

What seems to help me the most is being transparent with others about my struggles. There is a tendency to feel shame and embarrassment when we don’t live up to our own expectations, but it can be cathartic to use our worst moments to make others feel like they aren’t monsters themselves. Especially anytime anyone seems to be under the impression I walk through this life with anything resembling ease. While it’s true I’m far better (by my own standards) than I used to be, my journey has been fraught with manifestations of my character defects, for sure. Whenever I get the chance, I share what I can about the times I’ve shown up in my relationships as less-than-my-best-self. Insecurity can be an asshole! What’s most important is learning from mistakes, and showing up better the next chance you get.

I’ve heard it recommended that we focus on progress and not perfection. Being transparent with others about my struggles helps reinforce to myself that I’ve made progress, and it gives others permission to struggle, too. At least that’s my hope, because misery thrives in isolation and we all deserve room to grow.

Image credit: Photo by Kolar.io on Unsplash

Established Relationship Energy

Second in a two-part series covering both New Relationship Energy and Established Relationship Energy, this blog will focus on the latter.

Established Relationship Energy, or ERE, is the comfortable and secure feeling associated with a longer term relationship that has perhaps weathered a couple storms, been down the pet-peeve discovery path, and still landed firmly on its feet. Some literature has referred to this as ORE, or Old Relationship Energy, but the negative connotations there are a bit steep when it’s held up against NRE (the New Relationship Energy I wrote about last week).

I’m a huge fan of ERE! There is a lot to be said for being able to relax in a relationship without obsessive thinking and brain chemical nonsense impairing one’s ability to resist impulses and make important decisions. You know, when it’s just easy to be around someone and even an afternoon of sitting on the couch in your comfy clothes with your feet on one another is a thing to look forward to and enjoy. There’s no pressure to perform or impress; nothing telling you to sell a version of yourself that doesn’t exist. Just a safe place to be yourself and know you’re loved exactly the way you are.

The thing is, sometimes when we settle into the ease of ERE, we also fall into a pattern of taking our partners for granted. Maybe long ago they developed a habit of always making sure ripe bananas were available for your morning smoothie. In the beginning that made you feel loved and important! Over the years, however, it became a thing you expected from them . . . now if they aren’t available you experience negative feelings. We have a habit of transitioning from gratitude to entitlement over time, and that doesn’t serve anyone very well.

This is especially problematic in non-monogamous situations where one’s ERE stands in stark contrast to NRE. If your ERE is really Entitled Relationship Energy, your NRE is going to suck for your established partner(s). But do not give up hope! You can get back to gratitude with a few easy steps.

Make a list

I do love a good list . . . and on my phone, in a handy little shared app called Google Keep, I have a list of all the ways I share love with my partner in my longest term relationship. Things like “you make me coffee in the morning even though you don’t drink it” and “you reach for my hand when we’re out walking together.” On my partner’s end, they feel loved when I pack their lunches on nights they stay over and trim their beard to keep them looking their most adorablest. These are small, simple things that we’ve done for years and will hopefully continue to. We run the risk of coming to expect these things instead of being thankful for them, but having a list to refer to helps us remember to be intentional with our gratitude. 

Nourish Your ERE 

Each type of energy is valuable for its own reasons. Attempting to “rekindle” NRE will fall flat more often than not, because it’s inauthentic. This isn’t about trying to replicate NRE in an established relationship. Instead of trying to re-experience a long past, temporary state of endocrine intoxication, focus on feeding the aspects of your established relationship that bring you the most joy. DO THINGS together, and not just chores. Explore your world, invest in your future, make plans and share dreams. You are with this person because they’re amazing, not because they take up available space.

Oh please, if you are with someone because they take up available space, run, do not walk to them, and release them from the burden of being partnered with you. 

One of my partners and I embarked on a long-term project late last year. So far it’s been a huge bonding experience! We share thoughts and ideas and excitement about a thing we’re investing a ton of time and energy into. I’m learning so much from them, and I hope they’re learning just as much from me. We are discovering new strengths and in a very real way, we are growing together as individuals. This shared investment enhances our feeling of security and connection to one another, and after several years together, we feel safe reasonably expecting it to not all be for naught in a year’s time. 

Be Mindful of Your Finite Resources

No matter how you spin ERE, it will never look as exciting as NRE when they are held up to the light – because the unknown is laden with possibilities. When you’re experiencing NRE with someone, you may feel compelled to spend all your “fun” energy on them. If you make the mistake of using all of your energy to grow a new relationship at the expense of your established one(s), you may find them irreparably harmed when you come to your senses. 

If you choose to take your emotional foundations for granted, they will crumble under their own weight without you there to hold up your end. New partners are not vacations from established ones, so do what you can to ensure that’s not how you’re showing up. No one needs to be more important than anyone else, but no one enjoys feeling less important either. Established relationships deserve date nights out, splurges, surprises, impulsive kisses, and expressions of love and excitement, too. 

I can tell you from personal experience that it’s a lot easier to be supportive of new connections your partner makes if those connections don’t mean you’re suddenly a 30-minute, low-fat, weeknight, chicken breast recipe from Family Circle circa 1987, expected to cheer on your partner’s newfound subscription to the catered, five-course, wine-paired, candle-lit, chef’s menu of the month club every Friday and Saturday night. Cuz, uh . . . that’s a hard pill to swallow.

Resist the Urge to Protect your relationship from NRE

I won’t go too much into this, but I will say that making rules and agreements that limit your established partners in the pursuit of new connections just so you can feel secure just ensures future resentments. Trust me on this. Let the goats eat the garbage – all of it – and it will be okay. 

And on the flip side!

It can be super intimidating to be the new person partnering with someone whose other relationship(s) span years or even decades. Here this wonderful person you’re falling for has perhaps built an entire life with someone else, or maybe multiple people! They have investments (financial, emotional, etc.) and history. Inside jokes, mutual friends, in-laws (or similar), and have been through tough times and lived to tell the tale.

You, on the other hand, might be the flavor of the week, yeah? I mean, you’re not . . . you are just as valuable as anyone else anyone is partnered with, but it will do you no good to pine for ERE when you’re just getting to know someone.

When I first met my longest term partner, they’d been with their spouse for sixteen years already. Literally since just after high school; never adults in this world without the other by their side. Their ERE was intimidating to say the least. All their friends were mutual, as were recreational activities, the living space, family, all holidays, traditions, property, bank accounts, and even a girlfriend. I was so terrified in the beginning because there didn’t appear to be room for me in their life. At first, I agreed to things I felt bad about rather than risk advocating for myself and losing my seemingly tenuous hold on a budding relationship. I felt very sure that whatever NRE we shared was still not worth what they had banked in ERE with their spouse, and I didn’t see any path to establishing anything close to that with them, ever.

And that’s what comparisons get you . . . the Crystal Ball of Doom™.

With that experience behind me, I’ve found it far less anxiety inducing to let relationships unfold as they’re supposed to. I suffered through my NRE instead of enjoying it because it felt like I could lose the connection at any moment. My insecurity informed a lot of decisions I now regret. These days, I see ERE as a potential outcome and NRE as a phase to enjoy regardless of the outcome. I have connections that fall into a number of categories of depth and energy, but I don’t feel anxious about the shape of any of them.

I’ve also mistakenly tried to force ERE into a new relationship so it would like what I already had with someone else. I regret that as well, because when the NRE wore off in that partnership, the shape of what we’d created didn’t fit the relationship we actually had. Have you ever worn a shirt that was too small across the chest but also too long in the torso? It doesn’t feel good, and you don’t want to be in it for longer than you have to. That’s how I ruined that relationship. 

I try to make these mistakes so no one else has to! Unless you’re a kinetic learner like me and need to make them all yourself. That’s okay. I promise to hold your hand when the fog clears and you need a shoulder to cry on; I’m grateful for the ones who held mine, and lent me theirs.

Until next time, have a happy poly (or whatever you call it), and don’t forget to feel just as loved as the years go by when those ripe bananas are there for your morning smoothie more often than not. It means somebody loves you very, very much. The same way you love them.

Image credit: Michael Kirby Smith for The New York Times

New Relationship Energy

First in a two-part series covering both New Relationship Energy and Established Relationship Energy, this blog will focus on the former.

New relationship energy, or NRE, is the feeling of limerence associated with a new, chemistry-heavy connection between folks in the beginning of their relationship. It is borne of a combination of brain chemicals that feel extra amazing, and an absence of the baggage that comes with knowing someone long enough to have developed things like pet peeves.

I’ll be perfectly honest: I have an intense dislike of NRE.

I am comfortable in the driver’s seat, in control at all times, cool as a cucumber and preferably a little intimidating. NRE renders me silly. Oh god, it’s the worst. When there is actual chemistry I will feel all the dumb feelings and hate myself every step of the way. 

When in a state of NRE, I consider myself inebriated – because I am. Endorphins, serotonin, dopamine, lord help me . . . how does anyone survive this cocktail with their wits intact? The compulsion to back-burner otherwise very important things in life is a little frightening, and yet it seems so rational in that state of being. I mean, of course I should quit my job and move across the country for someone I’ve spent exactly 24 hours with. It just makes so much sense!!! 

So while it’s feasible to go ahead and abandon your entire life in exchange for this tangible high, it’s really important to put these things into context with an intentionally rational mind to avoid ruining your whole life in the pursuit of endocrine treats. Sweet, delicious, brain chemical pastries, filled with idiot pudding. 

One of my partner’s has this advice: “Just enjoy the ride.” So yeah, let yourself feel the amazing awfulness that is NRE, because there’s just no stopping it. Trying to limit your feelings is an exercise in futility and entirely inauthentic. So enjoy the giant roller-coaster you never agreed to get on – while it climbs the impossibly steep hill and there’s no escape, because you know exactly what’s coming next and it would be super great if you didn’t pee your pants but you MIGHT. You might. . . Is my disdain showing? Oh, apologies.

*Heavy Sigh*

I find the following to be helpful:

Remembering I’m essentially drunk – and resisting the urge to make hugely impactful decisions, like co-signing a car loan or buying a timeshare with the babe I matched with on Tinder last week

Keeping my priorities straight – because I assure you that my kids, friends, and partners will all notice if I no longer seem to be able to keep my plans with them or I’m always focusing on someone else, and that will feel pretty sucky to them. Hand in hand with this is relying on my important people to ask for what they need, and then giving it to them if it’s within my ability to do – sometimes those not experiencing NRE need a little extra TLC from those who are, and that’s okay!

Letting myself be dumb, and being transparent about that – and this is important . . . when I am vulnerable with those closest to me about feeling a bit out of sorts, it’s a lot easier for them to find compassion for me when I stumble around and make a mess of things in my twitterpated haze.

Reality check: if you are indeed experiencing a level of NRE that is making you authentically miserable, perhaps seeking mental healthcare to assess your levels of serotonin makes sense.

And on the flip side . . . 

When your partner is experiencing NRE with someone else, it’s a good time to remember that you’re always better off asking for what you need and want rather than brooding silently and cultivating resentment. Seriously, they are DRUNK. And it’s not just for one day, either. Lol lol lol *cry*

Here are some things you might consider:

Asking for reassurance – this very basic ask can cover a lot of ground. Simply communicating how you feel and asking for some extra emotional support is the least you can do for yourself when you’re feeling the wibbles.

Defining quality time – one of the things that can happen during a partner’s NRE is that it seems like their focus is always on the new person. NRE can absolutely shift a person’s thoughts like that, but asking for things like date nights to be free of texting or your meal times to be phone free are not unreasonable.

Focusing on self-advocacy vs partner management – because as scary as it can be, I assure you that attempting to stifle or limit the experience your partner is having with their NRE will only serve to create a rift between the two of you that need not exist.

Practicing acceptance – I have a not-so-mature phrase I use to get through my pettier moments in this situation and I will share it with you here and cross my fingers you won’t judge me for it. When the going gets tough and I’m in my feels, I remind myself this situation is kind of like letting the goats eat the garbage. Oh, I know, it’s not very charitable of me, but NRE is a bit of a fucker on both ends and some sardonic shade can an effective salve when you’re feeling a bit burnt out with your partner’s new shiny object. Just, you know, keep that shit to yourself – this too, shall pass . . . goats and all. 

It can be a terrifying thing to witness how happy a partner is with their new person while you see your own relationship as a rather mixed bag of bliss, mundane, irritating, and settled. This “established relationship energy” (or ERE) is a treasure trove of valuable assets, and we’ll cover those more in depth next week, but if at any time you’re tempted to compare ERE to NRE and it seems to fall short, just know that the same is true in reverse.

Guest Blog: Building Obstacles to Autonomy

If you’re a frequent reader of this blog, you may have noticed the common thread of autonomy and how it applies to various types of relationships. Rusty and I strive to practice it in our relationships and encourage others to do the same. At its core, autonomy is what this entire blog is about.

The culturally dominant narrative of monogamy does not foster nor encourage much autonomy. That isn’t to say it can’t exist there, rather that it’s not as prevalent. Known generally as “the monogamy hangover,” bleed over of toxic relationship practices lead to eroding one’s autonomy. When we allow this bleed over to compel us to place restrictions of some sort on our partner(s), we refer to that as relationship protectionism.

As someone who’s practiced various forms of ethical non-monogamy, I will readily admit to having asked for and consented to various forms of relationship protectionism. Every time one of us would reach a point where these agreements would stop us from doing what one naturally does in a relationship, we saw how problematic they were. Not only was everyone’s autonomy in jeopardy, but the agreements caused other problems that then needed to be addressed as well.

Relationship protection agreements are often made under the misguided notion it will make everyone feel safe and secure by keeping fears at arm’s length. The reality is that it achieves neither and usually only lays the groundwork for future resentments. Honoring autonomy is scary because it means partners have agency to do what makes them happy, even if it’s not what you would have them do.

A common agreement in non-monogamous relationships is the ubiquitous “heads up,” requiring a partner to let the other know before they do a thing with someone else. I’ve been that person. On both sides. It felt like no big deal to ask for and give a “heads up” before proceeding with another person . . . in theory. In practice, we both noticed quickly that it being compulsory felt wrong. Instead of our other relationships (potential or existing) progressing of their own accord, we would occasionally hold back to make sure we honored our agreement. And on the other side? Who wants to wait around for someone to tell you they’re going to do a thing and OH MY GOD I NEED TO PROCESS THIS NOW.

Odds are you’ve either been a part of, have encountered, or will encounter the “heads up” agreement. You and/or your partners are going to do things like flirt with someone, get their number, go on a date, and maybe even doing things that adults do with people they’re into, like fall in love or haveThe Sex. It can’t be avoided, but we’ll be damned if we’re not going to build an obstacle course for them to go through first.

Many people use relationship protectionism to avoid doing the work they should be doing in the first place. Instead, people often try to redirect that responsibility onto others or push it out as far as possible by making it more difficult for their partner to proceed naturally in their relationships. I had a short lived agreement of this nature with one of my partners around sex in specific. We sat down and had a long, drawn out conversation and discussed all sorts of different options . . . you know, as poly people do from time to time. Ultimately, we wanted to be as loose as possible and keep it simple with “give me a heads up if you consider sex to be on the table with someone you’re seeing.” There’s a few ways this was problematic, but with how she and I generally operated, it seemed fine. We felt uncomfortable to varying degrees with the notion of telling the other this tidbit of information. I found myself delaying natural progression in relationships because I was nervous to tell my partner for fear of them feeling bad. Just another hurdle that doesn’t belong in what’s already a challenging enough process for people.

Getting rid of relationship protectionisms requires a strong sense of boundaries as well as proactively doing our work before it becomes necessary to do it. If you know your partner will eventually do something with someone else that may make you uncomfortable, why wait until it’s upon you to do the work? Identify the source of your feelings and do the necessary work of sitting with and sorting through them beforehand and save yourself and your partners the anguish.

* * *

Since mid 2016, Adam (he/him) has been an educator and presenter in the ENM community. He realized he was poly in high school and has practiced various forms of non-monogamy ever since. With a primary goal of normalizing a variety of relationship structures, he shows up as his authentic self: an egalitarian polyamorist who practices relationship anarchy.

The Heart is a Muscle

The heart is a muscle.

That’s a statement of obvious anatomy, but I think of the metaphorical heart as a muscle as well. One that flexes and contracts with a smooth strength as it navigates the emotional boot camp that non-monogamy can be at times. When you’re keeping pace to it’s beat and the endorphins are flowing, it’s a blissfully easy piece of equipment to have. But many of us feel one premature ventricular contraction away from uncharted territory.

If we dare to consider our emotional strength similar to our physical strength, we can begin to look at ways to maintain it in much the same way.

In non-monogamy, sometimes we can fall into a pattern of complacency where it’s too easy to ask someone else to do the work for us while these important emotional muscles simply atrophy from non-use. Asking partners to manage our pain points seems so appealing in the moment, but it does nothing to alleviate the pain long term when what that spot really needs is to be touched, worked on, stretched, and developed. 

My body has been through a lot. I know where my pain points are, and how I’m supposed to take care of them. I know which side is weaker, and which is stronger. The recommended stretches, optimal duration of workouts, professional advice, and healthy habits – all of these are things I’m aware of. Sometimes, I even avail myself of them in such a way that I make actual progress!

The heart is no different, because the heart is a muscle.

My heart has been through a lot. I know where it’s pain points are, and how I’m supposed to take care of them. I know when I feel weak and fall short of my own standards for emotional maturity, and I know where I am strong enough to feel good and stable and safe. When I take the time to stretch a little further, I am rewarded with more comfort in that flexibility the next time. The efforts expended in areas of emotional growth are balanced best with self-care in appropriate doses. My therapist provides professional advice during these workouts. My healthy habits make all of these things more possible.

When I stop taking care of my body, it does things that make me unhappy. I lose strength and my muscles atrophy. I lose my resolve to progress. I compare the weaker version of myself to the one I could have been if I’d kept up with my program. It’s harder to feel good when I don’t do the things I know make me feel that way.

The heart is no different, because the heart is a muscle.

When I stop asking myself to work on the areas of me that need to be built up in order to support the whole of me, other areas overcompensate. If I neglect my mental health, my compulsions will step in and manage my thoughts for me. If I relax my boundaries to make others happy, the part of me that once only had to check for cracks in the foundation now has to pick up the pieces and rebuild with compromised materials. But when one part gets stronger, the areas that had to take up the slack before can go back to their original jobs.

Recently I’ve come out on the other side of some intense emotional work, and I’m beginning to see the payoff. It’s like flexing an impressive bicep after a year of focused training – there is a sense of pride, but also a genuine strength that informs how a body, or a heart, moves through the world. 

Finding time and expending energy to keep my body healthy and strong can sometimes be a chore. It doesn’t always feel great in the moment. I get sore. I get tired. I have days when I just don’t want to and the couch looks so tempting with perhaps a quart of ice cream. But I’m better for sticking to it – stronger, more stable, and far more confident in my abilities.

And the heart is no different, because the heart is a muscle.

Guest Blog: Coming Out as Non-Monogamous

In a perfect world, coming out wouldn’t be necessary; we would feel free to be our authentic selves and live our lives without negative consequences. But in most of the world, negative consequences are a valid fear for many.

Let’s not dismiss those. You may have heard horror stories: being ostracized by family, the vengeful ex-partner leveraging it to wrestle custody away, or employment in jeopardy. While these consequences are indeed possible, they are thankfully the exception and not the rule.

You get to evaluate what your risk profile is when deciding to come out!

When doing that, be honest. Don’t find reasons to not be out. Instead, find the reasons you want to be your authentic self. For the longest time, I thought I was “hiding in plain sight” to justify not being fully outright about who I was. In reality, I was still actively hiding this part of myself and not being honest about the nature of my relationships. That was unfair to my partner(s), those close to me, and even myself. Frankly? It’s caused irreversible harm . . . and I won’t do that again. As a result of coming out, my life and relationships have been that much better. It wasn’t the easiest decision I’ve ever made, but I have zero regrets. I found my fear was rooted in people not accepting me as my authentic self, rather than not accepting my partners. Rejection sucks. 

It helps to know where your support comes from and start there. Doing so helps foster a feeling of acceptance for who you are, aids in keeping you accountable, and generally allows you to show up as your best self. Having a proper support network will go a long way towards helping you feel safer in being your authentic self. For tips on finding/forming it, read Support Networks.

I’ve practiced some form of ethical non-monogamy my entire adult life, dating back to my senior year of high school when I dated multiple people at once. In my young adulthood I encountered people from the swinging community, but after very brief research I decided it wasn’t for me. Regrettably, I spent time as a much bemoaned Unicorn Hunter (for more on ways that route is often problematic, read Unicorns R Us). Ultimately, I craved autonomy. And for that, I needed to be honest about who I was.

Once I made the decision to come out, I opted to come out fully. Family, friends, work, you name it. I told those closest to me in person while most everyone else found out via social media. I no longer hide it and speak freely of my partners. Fortunately I haven’t had anyone walk away because of it. Some folks struggled early on, and some made snide remarks. When I reinforce my stance that this is who I am and others are free to be a positive part of my life or not, all that passes.

The best part about being out for me is not worrying about people finding out and dealing with the imagined fallout. I took that control back and did it on my terms. By coming out, I was able to show the important people in my life that they mattered more than outside opinions, and I showed myself that I matter as well.

When you treat non-monogamy like it’s something weird, (or shameful, deviant, immoral. . . you get the point), others will perceive it as such. Treat it like it’s normal because it is. Treat your partners the same as you would any partner in a monoamorous relationship. Include those who matter in your life at the level you WANT them at. You get to decide how you show up, not society.

* * *

undefined

Since mid 2016, Adam (he/him) has been an educator and presenter in the ENM community. He realized he was poly in high school and has practiced various forms of non-monogamy ever since. With a primary goal of normalizing a variety of relationship structures, he shows up as his authentic self: an egalitarian polyamorist who practices relationship anarchy.

Expect Autonomy

In my adulting adventures, I’ve been lucky enough to find myself in several communities that have high expectations of autonomy and accountability. To this end, one of the groups I had the pleasure of belonging to phrased this expectation as “be your own camp counselor” which, while self explanatory, has some layers.

I write a lot about autonomy without actually using the word, but I’m going to hammer it pretty hard this time around because autonomy is the foundational principle upon which I structure relationships. And autonomy is very much about being one’s own camp counselor. In relationships, we shouldn’t expect to be managed by our partners and we shouldn’t expect to manage our partners in return.

More to the point: when we expect our partners to modify their behavior to address our insecurities, we’re asking to be managed. Partners are not camp counselors, and we should not expect them to change anything about themselves that isn’t causing harm. We can ask, of course, and it’s our responsibility to advocate for ourselves by asking for what we need. But we always need to be okay with a “no” so long as what we’re asking for is not a reduction in harmful behavior.

For example: if every time my partner picks up a cookie I ask them how their diet is going, they’re going to be justified in asking me to knock that the fuck off. However, if every time I go on a date with another partner they text me and ask me to cut my date short, they are going to have to do a little self-wrangling to get to the bottom of why that request feels reasonable to them. It isn’t my job to modify my behavior in the meantime; they will need to be their own camp counselor.

Furthermore, if I were to modify my behavior to address their insecurities, that would be me infantilizing them and taking away an opportunity for them to grow. Autonomy is a great defense against future resentment. To deprive yourself of experiences that cause no harm simply because someone else is struggling to allow you to fully utilize your autonomy is a sure fire way to grow a great big resentment garden out of a well-meaning seed of consideration.

On the other side of things, there is a lot of dignity to be found in managing your own shit. When a partner attempts to tailor my experience with them to match some imagined version of what I might be feeling, it takes away my ability to show up authentically. Not everyone will find comfort in every aspect of non-monogamy, but if they’re never allowed the opportunity to develop those muscles, they’ll remain in a static state of discomfort.

Once upon a time, I had an agreement with a partner that we would give each other a “heads up” if another relationship progressed to the point where sexual activity was on the table. I think the reason we felt this was reasonable is because there was some discomfort around the idea of the other one getting to that point with someone else. Knowing about it ahead of time might allow us a chance to work through any feelings that came up for us before *it* happened. But . . . why? Why did we feel like we needed to wait until someone new came along before we did that work, and why did the work need to be done each time? I don’t recall how we justified that, but I can tell you the person giving the heads up ended up feeling like they were reporting to a supervisor, and the person receiving the information lived in a state of waiting to be hit with it. We decided pretty quickly that it felt icky to treat each other like children, and it felt a lot more dignified to deal with whatever came up for us naturally as the other person did what people do when they date new folks – have sex sometimes, or not. Whatever. Being our own camp counselors in this regard felt a lot better than being each other’s.

Autonomy is a gift we give not only to ourselves, but to each other. Each time I feel compelled to ask someone to do something differently, I try to take a moment to ask myself if what I need is really within my own abilities to provide; it usually is. I feel best building my own fires, leading my own hikes, and picking which obnoxious songs to sing. Being my own camp counselor may include handling the occasional garter snake, but when it’s all said and done, I can be proud of the path I’ve forged and the way I’ve shown up in my life and the lives of those I care about more often than not.

Oh, The Humanity . . .

I once had an English professor insist that no experience was truly universal. She was right to caution us against alienating readers with hyperbole, but if there were a universal human experience, it would be a perfectly imperfect existence.

The human condition requires that we make mistakes. Statistics ensure we make them most often with those we spend the majority of our time with. If we are lucky, we are loved through them and trusted to do better next time. But being worthy of that trust requires awareness and a desire to do better. Aye, there’s the rub . . . 

It’s easy to make mistakes when you don’t have a clear path. Walk your living space in broad daylight and your route is simple to discern: your spatial awareness, balance and all your future moves can be processed and mapped out before you take the first step. Walk that same path with no light and it’s another experience entirely: each move you make carries with it the possibility of ruin, or at least a stubbed toe. This is what it can be like to navigate non-traditional relationship structures. Without millennia of approved examples to refer to, we’re left to make it up as we go – or, you know, muck it up as we go.

Mistakes come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes you just don’t know any better. Sometimes you do . . . and you do it anyway, only to wish you hadn’t. Oh, and sometimes you don’t realize you’ve messed up until much, much later.

I’ve been on both sides of Mistake Lake. I’ve been the person rowing us out to the middle, and the person being dragged behind the boat. Neither position is particularly pleasurable; both have roles and responsibilities in relationships focused on continuous improvement.

If there were achievements to unlock in this regard, you could consider me an expert-level mistaker. It’s like I’m on a lifelong quest to locate all the ‘Oh, Shit’ easter eggs on this plane of existence. Sometimes I make the same damn mistakes over and over, even as I watch myself do it. 

OH MY GOD HOW DOES ANYONE LOVE ME?!?!?

My mistakes generally happen in the form of words that come out of my most prominent face-hole. It would stand to reason that a writer would gravitate towards that particular mechanism of dumbassery, yes? Words: they are my blessing and my curse. But words, contextualized with motivation, are behavior indeed. Speech is an act – never doubt it. Whether unkind, unnecessary, untrue, or unhelpful, there are all manner of reasons to need to reconsider one’s words. And I’m aware of all of them.

My weapon of choice? Passive-aggression.

Because of COURSE I choose the sword I hate the most from my own collection. After all, it’s forged in the fires of plausible deniability and is therefore nearly invincible. The only defense against it is a higher moral standard, but one cut alone is often enough to exsanguinate my victims of their moral lifeblood: emotional maturity.

Perhaps I’m being too hard on myself, but folks, there are days when I feel like such an imposter and Bad Poly Person that it’s hard to imagine ever fully coming back from my missteps when they happen.

But I do. We all do, if we want to.

Regardless of your weapon of choice, I carry a nifty tool in my relationship toolbox you might find helpful. It’s called an amends. The way it works is pretty simple: when you realize you’ve done something you wish you hadn’t, you acknowledge the error in an apology, ask if there’s anything you can do to right the wrong, do that thing if it’s in your power to do, and then resolve to do better next time. Also? Forgive yourself. You’re not in control of whether or not anyone else does, but believe in your own desire to be a good person and be gentle with your self-talk. Beating yourself up will accomplish nothing.

And if you’re on the other side of this ritual? Try as best you can to extend the grace you’d hope for if it were you. This is how we love each other through the bullshit when we have to build our support networks from the ground up. Holding onto resentment when someone is making an effort to repair their wrongs is usually an inefficient use of emotional energy and does little to incentivize folks to do better next time.

One caveat though: if these missteps become a pattern of behavior someone always apologizes for but never shows up differently in? You just might be dealing with someone it would be best to distance yourself from. Leveraging false grace to continue to be an asshole is some next-level shit. Recovering from mistakes requires effort, progress, and change – don’t accept less than that.

Once upon a time, I became an ordained minister of an internet church so I could perform services for my eldest child and my now daughter-in-law. In that, I was gifted the opportunity to write their vows. The only one I wrote was a promise that they continue to be sweet one another.

And really, that’s all this boils down to. The human condition guarantees we will grind some undeserved salt on our loved ones from time to time. I implore you to use your grown-up tools to find the sweetness you truly intend, and the vulnerability to give, and accept it, in kind.

Mismatched Desire

Most non-monogamous people hail from amatonormative upbringings reinforced by pop culture, media, families of origin, etc. We work to unlearn that while trying to navigate a course that isn’t supported by a lot of widely available maps. Along the way communication becomes our primary religion, because without it we’re condemning ourselves to actual hell.

Talk, talk, talk – listen, listen, listen – and then talk some more, while listening, and on and on forever until death brings its sweet release.

I’m kidding of course – even if I never had another partner again besides the one I have now, I’d still insist on that much communication because I am a better partner for it. And what requires the most communication, is the stuff that isn’t all matchy-matchy in our hearts and minds.

For example: I have three kids. Well, actually I have four because one kiddo is married and his wife is for sure one of my darlings. So I have four kids, and there’s a good chance someone, someday, is gonna add a twig to the family tree. After holding a new niece last year, I began to wax pre-sentimental about the prospect of being a grandparent. My partner informed me in no uncertain terms that I should NOT become attached to the idea that we grandparent together . . . and, that’s fair. When I was much younger, I took for granted I’d be growing old with someone who would share my affinity for children, but rarely does reality look like a romanticized fantasy. I won’t give up the dream of being the coolest grandma in the whole wide world, but my current partner has clearly communicated that he does not see himself by my side in that endeavor and I am genuinely grateful to know that up front.

And that’s the thing about communicating freely and welcoming it from your partners: you never have to be blindsided by mismatched desires. He and I can move forward with the awareness that I have positive feelings about the prospect of someday being a grandmother (maybe – no pressure, kids) and I know he’s less-than-thrilled and even a little worried I might be disappointed in his non-involvement there. It doesn’t mean we have perfect feelings, but it means we are well informed, and therefore we can negotiate with reasonable expectations if the issue ever arises.

Wait – isn’t negotiation something you do with a hostile force?

I mean, yeah, sometimes. But I prefer negotiating with nice folks like my partners. And I like to keep the focus on self-advocacy vs. compromise as it’s a really big component of autonomy. Self-advocacy focuses on individual priorities, while compromise is more about meeting in the middle.

So, if my priority as a grandparent is maximizing my time with my grand-kids, and my partner’s priorities do not match mine, it is not a given that we should meet each other in the middle where he’ll be partially miserable and I’ll be getting less than I want. Self-advocacy and a willingness to honor individual desires instead of subscribing to the dominant narrative that states couples have to basically be a hive mind or they’re not truly connected allows each individual to come out on top.

I feel truly connected when I am free to do as I please and my partners love me exactly as I am without making themselves miserable on my behalf or expecting me to do the same for them.

Misery is not a metaphorical bouquet of long-stemmed roses.

If my partner chose to grandparent with me out of a false sense of obligation to my desire and not because he wanted to, it would ruin it for me. If he does opt to join? Cool beans – I’ll be able to trust he is doing exactly what he wants to be doing. Cuz you know what? I’m gonna be one stupidly happy old lady spending time with my grand-kids (that may or may not manifest, and honestly it’s super okay if they don’t – I mean it, no pressure kids) and he can go be stupidly happy doing something else, and then we can reconnect as stupidly happy people living our best lives instead of partially miserable ones, wishing we were elsewhere.

Which would you rather be?