Forgiving Yourself in Relationships

Folks navigating relationships in a monoamorous framework benefit from a wealth of resources related to their journey. In non-monogamy we’re often left using a trial-and-error model to teach ourselves what works and what doesn’t. Understandably, we mess up a lot before we figure things out.

I promise you I am no exception to this rule. 

I know occasional failures are par for the course when existing outside the dominant narrative, but I still beat myself up for it from time to time. Wanting to be a different version of myself and watching myself not show up that way is hard. Some solace is available when I look back at who I was years ago and see how far I’ve come, but I still struggle with the idea that I am not perfect . . . and don’t get me started on the fact that I’ll never be!

I aspire to always show up as the version of myself I hope to someday be, but sometimes I forget she exists until it’s too late. Alas, I am human. I have a therapist (10/10 recommend), I only keep supportive people in my life (yes, boundaries, omg you need them), and I resolve to do better each and every time I mess up. These things help me forgive myself for the times I do slip up, because if I wasn’t able to do that, I wouldn’t be able to move on.

And this is a critical piece of the puzzle when it comes to working on being the best version of you: forgiving yourself for not having always been that way. Even yesterday, or maybe this morning.

If you read this blog with any regularity, you are made aware of my shortcomings about a month after I become aware of them. When I speak to groups, I find catharsis in admitting where I’ve gone wrong in front of people who nod their heads in understanding because they, too, have fucked up in that particular way. I enjoy sharing what a terrible partner I am on platforms like this blog, because it feels a bit like atonement once I’ve moved past a thing and learned from it. I highly recommend sharing your seemingly shameful moments with those in our community who are also walking this path – they are there to love you through it, and commiserate. 

I’m a big believer in the universe providing second chances when our hearts are in the right place. Don’t spend too much time in a haze of self-loathing before you allow yourself to make amends and move on. Once you decide to do better next time, you will get a do-over, I promise. It might not be with the same person (or people), and it may not come with the same risks or rewards, but you will get another opportunity to show up differently, and that is a gift. Count on it.

Relationships are hard enough when the way you structure them is a well worn path through the society you live in. When you’re left to forge your own, you have to allow for some mis-steps. None of us is going to get through our time on this planet without fucking some stuff up; the human condition assures it. You can practice acceptance of this or deny you’re affected, but only one of those options allows you to learn and grow.

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