save your sanity for later.

I think I've been silent for a long time because of my fear of judgment.

My own judgment. I'm tired of hating myself because of what other people believe, whether it's about me or their ethical quandries with the way I live my life, or whether I'm just setting myself up for a fall. I'm happy. I have a lot of things to work on, but I'm fucking happy.

Josh and I are still together and stronger in love, commitment, kindness, persistence, and security than ever. February 14th will be 2 1/2 years, and I'm excited as hell about that because it's longer than I've ever been with anyone and I'm just—so—so—pleased for so many reasons.

Yes, we're polyamorous. No, I don't particularly want to defend that. It's hard enough dealing with my own insecurity and jealousy while simultaneously managing my triggers and anxiety. Please respect this for the moment, because I want to write about it.

---

I'm so fucking jealous of Josh's newest conquest friend, A, and when I examine it, do my due diligence, the foot work, the scut work— really peel away the layers, I find the nasty sticky gunk of being unloved, being unwanted, being abandoned, being alone, being worthless.

None of that is true. It's not true anymore, and it never was. Never.

But it's so ... nearly impossible for me to accept that. So much pain and desperation lurk in my psyche, sticky tar over my hopes and dreams, and the jealousy feels like I'm boiling myself alive—but only sometimes.

This is what I will endure to be the person I want to be. See, the thing is, I want to be poly. I spent years saying it wasn't for me and I spent those years cheating. (Ironically, cheaters are much more likely to be concerned about their partner's monogamy.)

I wasn't being true to myself and my desires. I suggested polyamory about a year and a half ago and we've been gradually opening up the relationship ever since, and I feel like I can breathe again. I won't cheat on Josh because he's aware, and he's happy for me.

I want to be happy for him. I know I can be; I feel the happiness shining like a warm sun within me, but the grasping, the attachment of my fears——oh god, the dilemma. Listen to my fears, feel more secure temporarily by restricting his activities, control freak, probably end up losing him—listen to my heart, follow its lead, feel more secure but not for a while, assertive but not aggressive, communication, pain, endurance.

These are the paths I see before me. Maybe poly is my path less travelled, but by god, even if I pay dearly for every mile, I know it will be worth it, no matter what. I want to be the person I know I can be, who's secure in her relationship and enjoys the fact that her partner also has other people to talk to, to spend time with, to love.

I want to be free, and I want to let Josh go knowing that he'll always come back to me. He told me I am his home.

I want to believe.

The end of a relationship is the end of promises.

Day to day life is full of promises, spoken & un: 'I'll get the trash later', "Sure, I'll wash the dishes", "I'm going to the grocery store tomorrow". A note on the refrigerator reminding you to call someone back is a promise, as is the schedule your boss gives you when you work retail.

Lying in someone's arms as you drift off to sleep is a promise. Hugging someone goodbye is a promise. Loving someone is a promise, damnit, and so were all the words that added up over the days, months, years: "I'll see you later"; "yes, I want kids"; "Let's move in together"; "I'll see you soon. I promise."

And so the end of a relationship is admitting that when you said "I'll always love you", it was with an implicit until I don't. And now you love 'em, now you don't.

The end of a relationship is divorce after "'til death do you part". It is saying "as long as our love shall last", instead.

---

Of the two paths a break-up can take, I may have a slight preference for angry versus amicable. In the long run, angry is easier.

Breaking up angry is clean. You hate the bastard, you never want to see them again. You don't return the miscellaneous CDs, sweaters, and letters that they were stupid enough to leave behind—you burn them in a ritual that involves two of your closest girlfriends.

Breaking up amicably is exchanging forwarding addresses. Breaking up amicably is knowing that you're allowed to drop them a line, see how they're doing, and that doing so will set back your grieving for the relationship a good two weeks.

Breaking up amicably is meaning it when you say Let's be friends, and then regretting it later.

Breaking up amicably is an autopsy that reveals there was no cancer after all. If there was no cancer, why did you die?

If you don't hate me, why did you leave me?

And do I, should I even care?