We need to have compassion for one another regardless of our individual circumstances. Comparing hardships is about as helpful as comparing partners – it’s not.
Imagine thinking that you failed at accepting polyamory in one sentence, and in the next being so fully accepting of his polyamorous identity that you're willing to end the relationship rather than try to force him to change.
It's hard to reconcile mourning something that you know wouldn't be right for you anymore, even if it were here.
This time of year has a tendency to present the perfect conditions for me to question everything about my life. It's not a great time for me to be alone, but it's when my instincts tell me to withdraw from having to be present anywhere where I have to put on a mask to hide what's going on inside.
This week has been extra-specially rough on my emotional state for many reasons, one of which is the expiration date of my time in this house. I hadn't cried about it yet until last night. Last night the tears came. Last night I said the words out loud, "I hope I made the right decision,"… Continue reading How far I’ll go
My birthday is coming this week. I'll be 39. Save the date for next year. There will be a celebration. But for this year, it's pretty low key. Back in my 20s I set the standard that I only celebrate the Zeros and the Fives with parties, but the rest of the birthdays pass by… Continue reading Non Sequitur – A Birthday Request
Content warning: Death and death-related topics ahead I've heard my boss say, on more than one occasion, that "nobody gets out of life alive." She doesn't say a lot that's worth repeating, but this is one of her finest and most salient comments. We're all gonna die one day. And yes, many of us hope… Continue reading Can I talk to you about something serious for a sec?
I wonder, had this been a relay and not a reboot, if he'd been around to meet you, how he would have felt about this quirky situation of ours?
We all suffer, in varying degrees and for different reasons - but we all suffer.
"Bear down on it," he ordered. I was naked and collared, on my hands and knees at the foot of the four-poster bed, around the leg of which he'd used a thigh harness to strap a large, purple phallus at the exact height required for my impalement. Just kidding. I'm not telling that story yet.… Continue reading The ol’ switcheroo