Bring on the cuffs
When you wish, scroll down for second photo.
(I felt it's aesthetically pleasing to separate them with some space/time, rather than show both at once. As if you were opening your emails, one by one.) 
Yes, that's your shoe I've got.
Are these naughty, or nice? I've turned Comments on, or you can text me, or email me.
Happy New Year!
A quick update: we're still married, and some days are fine, and some days I'm sure the grass is greener on the other side (where the single people are). I'm glad to say that September was the last time I felt like crying about it, so I'm doing okay, and I thank you for your kindness and concern, friends.
I'm taking most of the blog down now. I'm too busy with life. But I'm going to leave up my "coming out" story in particular, since it was another woman's story, years ago, that had such a therapeutic effect on me. And wouldn't it be good to pay that forward!
So, TWW readers, a fond farewell to you. Take good care of yourselves. Work for a more just, peaceful, and sustainable world. And eat like you give a damn.
Aloha,
justwhen
Cried myself to sleep last night. Missing him, wanting so much to be with him.
A few days ago, it seemed there was a glimmer of hope that Husband and I were about to open up this marriage. That I could start dating "Larry." (I haven't written much about Larry, but there's a tiny bit of background in this post.)
Hope is potent stuff. Without hope, what keeps one going?
For a while now, I've been living without any hope of being poly with Husband. I've reached a place of resignation...I go through my days knowing that this is how he is, unwilling/unable to renegotiate the terms of our marital relationship. Given that, this question has emerged: will I stay with him, being monogamous with him the rest of my/his life? Or will I someday leave this relationship and become more free to love others? Knowing I have this choice down the road is what keeps me from feeling utterly hopeless. For the present, I'm staying here for our child's sake and because I'm still financially dependent on Husband.
But I know I shouldn't feel too sorry for myself. I'm not living with an abusive, repulsive ogre--my husband is a kind, loving, attractive, fit, funny, responsible, brilliant man. He loves making love to me, he works hard to support our family, he's a wonderful father to our child.
I've tried to explain to him how it feels to me, this constraint of monogamy. How it chafes. At times, I feel imprisoned.
Imprisoned!? He's incredulous when I tell him that. I understand his reaction. I really do. The whole situation is tragic. He's a wonderful husband; why isn't his wife content to love him & only him??
Days, weeks go by...harmonious family life...I don't bring up my yearning, he thinks "we're doing well." Then I'll say something that indicates I still want to be more free, I'm still thinking of a future when I'm single--and it throws him for a loop. But I thought we were doing so well! How many times have we been through this cycle now? (I know we're not the only ones who struggle with the need to get along, but also avoid complacency...I once saw, on a list for people dealing with the challenges of being in a poly/mono relationship, the tongue-in-cheek suggestion that the poly partner greet her mono spouse first thing every day by saying, with a smile and a kiss, "Good morning, dear! I'm still poly, by the way.")
I tell him, "I think about it all the time. ALL. THE. TIME." It hurts him to hear this. Why is this news to him, once again? I guess it's because, like me, he needs to have some hope. Hope that I'll come around, that I'll forget this poly nonsense and be content with our marriage.
But this last time, it seemed to sink in a little more--that even though I love him, and am sure I always will, I'm looking at a future on my own, not married to him.
Something he said, I don't remember the words now, but something about our relatively calm, but sad, conversation on this recent morning made me think he was giving the open-marriage scenario another thought. Dared I hope?
I tried not to hope, but I hoped a little. Hope sprang up where it had been dead for some time.
I brainstormed a detailed list of dating-related items for us to discuss and negotiate. Thinking he might be ready for that. Soon? Not as soon as I'd wish? I can be patient...
I was singing through my days. Hope is potent stuff.
Last night, finally. We talk. He's already been on the phone during the evening with a confidante, his best friend from grad school days. I didn't hear his end of the conversation with Grad School Friend, but the look on his face isn't feeding my hope that we're on the verge of a change.
He expresses his fears, doubts about us dating others. I listen. We talk, we're both calm, but tired. (In the past, there has been more rage...maybe we're past that now.)
No agreement about opening things up. It's not okay with him if I call Larry. My hopes are dashed. In bed in the dark next to him, I'm not ready for sleep. There's a pressure in my chest, in my throat. I touch his shoulder and murmur, "I'm not angry at you, but I'm going downstairs. I need to listen to some music."
I lie on the sofa, the ipod plays songs of yearning, and the tears come. I sob. I'm picturing the two of us, Husband and me, standing inside a heavy door--Husband is holding the knob, the door is open the barest crack, there's a sliver of brightness from beyond, and Husband is peering out. Looking. Deciding. Then he pulls it shut on us, with finality. It sounds like the slam of a prison gate.
I sob. Upstairs, he doesn't hear. I think I hear him snoring.
Sometime, when you've got 13 minutes to spare, you might enjoy this.
As the narrator says, it shows "in a dynamic and joyful way" the process of protein synthesis.
And, I'd add, it's also a glimpse of what it was like to be a UC-San Diego student in 1971. Don't ya love it?
[This film reminds me of two things:
that the first science film I ever loved was "Powers of Ten" by Charles and Ray Eames--which I saw when I was about ten at the then-new Smithsonian National Air & Space Museum, and viewing it would be my favorite part of every subsequent trip to that museum. "Powers of Ten" was available on YouTube, but now it's not. So buy it or get your library to get it.
...and...
that once-upon-an-undergraduate-time, I was a member of the MOB--Rice's Marching Owl Band. I was one of the non-musicians, the "show assistants." We did zany stuff to music on the football field during halftime. Not exactly like this "Protein Primer," but the spirit's similar.]
"When will I stop making mistakes?" I lamented, once, to a friend.
Not missing a beat, that wise friend answered me: "When you're dead."
I just had a very lovely Valentine's Day with H., but in case any of you are having a V-Day "hangover,” this is a post you might appreciate.
Here’s how someone will make a gazillion dollars someday.
They’ll finally concoct a remedy for unrequited love. (S., my chemist, are you reading this?)
Mark, commenting recently on my "How I found out I'm poly" post, wrote I'm trying to learn how to experience the love without the yearning. I should have it figured out in a couple of decades; I'll keep you posted :-) .
Some potion, pill, or balm that brings merciful relief to the sufferer—just imagine the sales.
Who doesn’t know someone who could use it? For instance, one bachelor I know and see regularly at our UU fellowship has loved me for years in his chaste way. I care about him as a friend, but sadly I’ve never felt any interest in anything beyond that. Ah, the awful asymmetry of it.
That’s the thing—nobody is to blame, when relationship asymmetry happens. Yet it can cause such agony.
Time may eventually heal the condition, but think of the productivity to be gained if some drug would accelerate that process!
On the other hand, d’ya think if unrequited love became a rare malady, too many passionate works of art might never be inspired?
I learned about unrequited love early on. The first boy I felt really serious about, I loved from afar, literally—he lived in another part of the state—and I had no reason to think my interest was reciprocated. My dad & his mom worked in the same D.C. office, so we met sometime when I was in junior high, and I continued to hear about him but didn’t have many occasions to see him. (I remember one or two social events for “the office” which included employees’ families, and there was a brief series of Saturdays when the tall, handsome object of my desire and I were both taking the same science course for brainy kids…)
After what seemed like eons, but may have been just a year or two…wonder of wonders, we got together somehow and I found out that he returned my feelings.
That revelation, that my one-sided puppy love was, in fact, mutual…was quite simply the sweetest ecstasy I’d ever known, then.
So sometimes unrequited love sets the stage for a truly thrilling second act.
But usually it’s just hell. Given that, who wouldn’t want to keep some antidote within reach, just in case?
I did not receive the following questions from any reader, but a recent comment from H. gave me the idea to answer them, in case you were curious.
"Rachelishappyandsad"--is your email saying you're bipolar?
The only mental health problem I've ever been professionally diagnosed as having was "oppositional disorder" during an uncooperative teenage phase. : )
No, here's the origin of "rachelishappyandsad."
In the fall of 2005, my life was charged with NRE. There was this guy who was available, attractive, and attracted to me. After three lunch dates, it felt like we were teetering on the edge.
H. knew about all this. Because I don't keep secrets from him. He wasn't happy, but he hadn't vetoed the lunch dates.
When I asked him if he would consent to my being more than friends with "Larry," however, the answer was no. (Of course, that's a condensed version of weeks of discussion about renegotiating the terms of our marriage, a veritable roller-coaster ride of loving feelings, hope, resentment, despair, etc.)
I went searching for consolation, for others who could relate to what I was going through.
I googled "open affair" and wound up at the "Open Board" of an affair-recovery discussion forum. I picked a name, Rachel, and introduced myself in a post I labeled "Poly?"
Some people there were incredibly hostile. Others were more accepting. Still, after only one day it was clear to me that my presence was disrupting their therapeutic community, so I exited.
Fortunately, I soon found some other communities which were a better fit: the CPNpolymono yahoogroup and the UUPoly email list.
Needing an email address, I came up with "rachelishappyandsad," as a way to summarize my feelings in my poly/mono situation with H.
Happy that H. is wonderful to be with in so many ways...sad that I'm not the person he'd like me to be, that we have some profound differences.
What about "Terrible, Wonderful?"
Hmm...perhaps that does sound like a title a depression-prone blogger would choose... ; )
Seriously, yes, I have had bouts of depression in my past--like right after we were married & moved to another country, and I didn't know a soul, had no support network, no work permit, no structure to my days...it wasn't good. Things changed for the better when I started some volunteer work and also got pregnant. (No, the volunteer work didn't get me pregnant, cheeky reader, you.)
Some people just seem to have their emotional thermostat at a higher setting...like H. He's a real optimist.
Sometimes I think the most rational response to the state of things today, if your eyes were really open to the myriad problems out there and their magnitude and entrenched nature and the consequent suffering, would be to get deeply depressed. To keep functioning, I have to close my eyes much of the time and stay "sane" that way. (Modern communications and media mean that a person can be aware of more troubles today than has ever been possible in human history...)
I've also found, as have many others, that adequate physical activity improves my outlook on life. I wonder how many prescriptions for antidepressants might have been unnecessary, had exercise been tried first? In 2004, the CDC reported that 10% of U.S. women, 4% of U.S. men were taking antidepressants. If you're one of the many people whose life has improved thanks to these meds, I'm glad. (Several of you are my family members and friends.) I know depression can be a debilitating condition. I just wonder what's going on, that so many of us need our brain chemistry adjusted in order to get through our days...
It's a wonderful world, too, and I mustn't forget that.
Compassion makes life worthwhile.
I'm sending you love, dear readers.
Lots of love. So feel loved.
You are loved.
