Juggling time is a huge deal in a open relationship if the type of open relationship you have means investing in every relationship you develop. And it’s not only in your intimate relationships, it’s time spent with their parents, their brothers, sisters and depending on how close they are, cousins, uncles, aunts and the rest. It’s the emotional labour of negotiating holidays, cultural and family traditions and personality dynamics.
I sincerely believe we’ve achieved what we’ve achieved because our relationship was already open and has been since its inception. Our relationship was open and sexual. It is still open but non-sexual. Timing in our case, was everything.
For myself I discard the word ‘disorder’ as a part of C-PTSD, finding it more useful to disaggregate the various traumas to more easily see where they intensify or diffuse my adult actions, reactions and preferences. And how these help or hinder me from tackling what life throws in my path. Being polyamorous or practising consensual non-monogamy whilst also dealing with the consequences of complex trauma, has a few subtleties all of its own.
After many such processing sessions and respective conclusions, I’ve come to a grand, meta conclusion. Whilst I might long for multiple connections, I function better alone. I learned some years ago that a solo style of polyamory would be the smart choice for me; that’s a bit of a conundrum when you’re already in a household of six which includes two small kids.
I’m coming to realise that whilst I may not need a map per se, I do need a story. And the story, like all good stories, must have a beginning, a middle and an end. You and I, we’ve long since passed the beginning, and we’ve had a good bit of the middle. This here, is the midpoint of the story. The mirror moment. Because my stories need substance; they need love affairs, plot twists, growth experiences and character arcs. We’ve grown together, and now I believe it is time to grow independently.
Dear Louloria, I’ll preface by saying my marriage was once incredibly dysfunctional. Neither of us were capable of taking responsibility for our choices or feelings and we got stuck in this cycle of happy for a little while followed by increasing isolation followed by explosive fighting followed my short lived happiness and promises to do better. It was bad. Really …