Year: 2015

Buzz Buzz Buzz

The anticipation builds as I eat breakfast. A large full plate of not so healthy options. Sustenance for the coming hours, energy to deal with the adrenalin rush to follow.

My mind races ahead, what will the design look like? The final version awaits me at the studio and as I head there my pace quickens in time with my racing heart.

Once inside the design is revealed. Final tweaks discussed and then the cold wipe of alcohol and the sharp blade of the razor preps the skin. A cold shiver.

The design is lined up, checked and double checked. In the mirror the first glimpse of what the future holds. Excitement levels peak.

It begins. Positioned on the bench, the spotlight in place, the inks laid out. A short buzz to check the equipment and the first sharp drag on my skin.

The noise amplifies the sensation as the needles drive the ink into my skin. I breath deep as the gun moves to a tender area, breathing through the pain. The gun moves on and the dull pull on my skin becomes a calmng balm. I close my eyes and fade away into the sensation.

Hours later it’s over. Swathed in protective gel and clingfilm, I thank the artist and tenderly make my home.

I feel elated but wrung out. The buzz buzz buzz of the needle reverberates still as the chemicals in my system kick-in. Sugar needed to avoid the drop.

More sessions in the weeks to come. Repeat, repeat, repeat. The final art on my skin a permanent reminder, a badge.

Mine.

A big pot of time

Poly Means Many: There are many aspects of polyamory. Each month, the PMM bloggers will write about their views on one of them. Links to all posts can be found atĀ www.polymeansmany.com.

I like making stew, I like the simplicity of it, I like how the combination of ingredients becomes so much greater than the sum of its parts.

Poly time management is like a stew. A big pot of time into which we chuck in all the schedules, plans, desires and appointments. Stir, season, leave to simmer for a few hours.

Alas that’s where the resemblance ends. I like stew because it’s one big pot of awesome but unfortunately I can’t then ladle out a bowl of only carrots and gravy (he said, avoiding the more obvious meat and veg part of this awful analogy).

Managing my own time means being aware of the schedules of 4 or 5 other people at any one time, and beyond that it means communicating my preferences, compromising and adapting to best suit everyone, and means that even a simple event can be tricky to plan. Good communication is a must.

It doesn’t end there of course. Once you have some plans in place there is then the question of value, of balance. It’s more noticeable at the start of a relationship, when things revolve around dates and going out, that period when the safety of neutral territory suits everyone. But over time that changes and, as you become more comfortable with each other, the time spent becomes more relaxed, more comfortable. Lazy nights slobbed out on the sofa.

That said I do find myself keeping a mental tally of the types of time I spend with my partners. Again, for me it’s about balance. Whilst the usual curveballs that life throws at us will play a part in all of this I try and make sure that, for example, I’m not always going out with one of my partners but staying in with the other.

Hopefully that way the quality of the time I spend with both my partners is about equal. That’s something that’s important to me as within our poly setup we don’t have notions of primary/secondary partners so the time spent needs to be balanced and ‘fair’. Of course there will be times when circumstance tips the balance one way or another but that’s where trust and communication come into play.

Recently I’ve spoken with both my partners to ask for a little more time for myself and I realise now that part of what made that conversation hard (in my head, they were both lovely about it) was that I will need to find the balance again to make sure they both feel that the time we have together is of value.

Time management isn’t easy, but with open and honest communication it doesn’t have to be hard.

My Shadow

You do not know me.

I do not know all of me.

What you read here is not me. It is a small part, a feather plucked from my plummage.

Sometimes it is shiny and bright, the dazzling blue shimmering in the sun. Sometimes it is dull and brown, a soft down of comfort. Occasionally the feather is jet black, absorbing light, hanging heavy on the page.

And that’s the thing, we are all complex people (we are all our own unique fucking snowflake) and through social media we can pick and choose which parts of us we expose.

Some people enjoy the peacocking of social media, their lives painted in vivid technicolour, bright daubs of achievement are all you ever see. You marvel and admire how shiny their life is, how wonderful they are, how aspirational to be so luminous!

But of course that isn’t them, not the real them. They will have days where they achieve nothing, they experience doubt, they have insecurities. Their lives are not perfect. The facsimile does not reveal all.

You are not missing out. You are no worse than them.

You are no better than them.

Everyone has dark moments, shadows they try and ignore. Everyone can be mean, short-tempered, impatient, annoying and selfish. It is in all of us. Some people know their shadow well enough to be able to angle the light just so, tricking your eyes into thinking it doesn’t exist. Moments of blackness flit past your eyes and are gone before they can be recognised.

A polished act. A mask.

Everyone has a shadow, but I think the trick is to embrace it, to welcome it in and know it better. Let it become a manageable part of who you are, rather than a face that you hide away. Acknowledge it, speak honestly and openly to it, and hopefully you can find a balance that suits you both.

You and your shadow.

I’m have been pretty candid on here at times but there remains some things I have not, and will not, write about.

My dark places are mine, my shadow does not loom over me but follows me quietly. We both like it that way.

Honesty and trust

One thing that has continued to take me by surprise, despite the overwhelming evidence that suggests it shouldn’t, is how many benefits there are to being open and honest in your relationships, building a trust that makes so many other aspects of the relationship so much easier.

What that really means is being honest with yourself and that’s one of the things that being poly has really helped me with. I’m forced to look at myself, raw and exposed, to face up to my own shortcomings and issues rather than putting them away in a box.

This is nothing to do with being poly of course, it’s something I should’ve been doing for years but those boxes were so easy to use, so much easier than facing up to the facets of my personality I didn’t like.

Journaling, aside from being a horrid bastard of a word, has helped. In the past I would write reams and reams of self-analytic prose, reading it back I can see the beginnings of where I am today, the pain and uncertainty, the fear of change, the hope and pity all mixed up into ramble after aching rambling.

I’ve talked about it all since then, twice over.

Kirsty and I talked a lot during our early days together as we reeled into each others arms after the ending of our relationships. We discussed love, jealousy, trust, desire, selfishness, and more as we each explored our basic needs and expectations both within the frame of us and of ourselves. We stepped back in time to dark places, uncovered them to the light and watched as the dancing shards of the mirrorball reduced them to dust. We talked it all through. It was painful, brutal at times, but it got easier. We slipped, stumbled and recovered. Each step back a chance to check our place so we could walk forward together.

It got easier and easier but still, to this day, retains the surprise of what it reveals.

When I met Clare I still had some realisations to come, a second love amplifying the first and I latched on to what we had. A bonus in so many ways, a tribulation in others as we dived once more into the dark places of our pasts, finding new routes through them, out of them. The more we talk the easier it gets, the more evidence we show each other, the more accepting we are.

It gets easier and easier to talk. The surprises stay because of my fears write large in my imagination.

I write all of this after talking to both of my dearly loved partners, to tell them I needed a little more space than I currently had, that I wanted to step back a tiny way to give myself what I know, deep down, that I need. It is a time change not a time for change that I hesitantly proposed. It was a conversation, an offering on the table to discuss and reason with. It could be altered and changed, compromised to their individual needs.

The hard work of being honest with myself got me to those discussions. The realisation that I taking a little more time for myself doesn’t mean I love them any less, I know that is true because I asked myself that question. Was I pulling away because the love was fading? Was the distance being driven by something else that wasn’t in my view?

No. I am managing my own need pure and simple. I am being honest and trusting that they would indicate if it impacted them in a way they did not like, if they were not happy.

There are many benefits to being open and honest in your relationships, but for me the main advantage is the trust it builds, the trust that makes so many other aspects of the relationship so much easier.

A box of valentine

Whilst it may be Chaucer that popularised the notion of romantic love being celebrated today, it seems that social expectation has taken hold and placed us all at the behest and behemothic budgets of a massive industry.

Cards to buy, chocolates to order, flowers to be delivered, candlelit dinners to be enjoyed, discrete Ann Summers packages to be unwrapped in the bedroom.

It’s all very formulaic and about as far removed from romance as I can imagine.

Of course it’s easy to dismiss all of this. A roll of the eyes whilst you point out that you don’t need one day to prove your love, and the clarion call of ā€˜commercialisation’ is an easy one to fall back on but it is exactly this pre-packaged, mass market, off the shelf approach that irks. The lowest common denominator isn’t far away I fear; the Valentine box containing a card for ā€˜the one’, chocolates, a single red rose and a lurid red and lace lingerie set. It will be prominently placed in all the best supermarkets, indiscreetly labelled as ā€œall your romance in one placeā€. How depressing.

It’s been many years in the making, the gentle conditioning that has ebbed into our lives unchallenged, tricking and treating its way into the common psyche.

But then what harm some flowers and a card? What harm of such a day that brings love into focus, Ā that forces it to the forefront of our busy lives. It can’t be that bad, can it? In a world full of pain and anger, headlines thrust into our views to remind us the world is a bad place, an evil place. The world needs more love, everything in black and white.

And so it is that our integrity is diluted, the cliffs of my belief are slowly eroded until I look around and realise I do not recognise this land, where am I and how did I end up here? In my confusion I wonder what my beliefs are now, I question what I hold dear about the notions of love and romance, of that spark of connection with another human being and start to wonder if my approach has been so wrong all this time.

I find myself confused and conflicted. The sway of the masses is strong, my island of belief grows small but I will stay here until I too crumble and once more fall into the waters from which I dragged myself a few years ago. A sodden rag of bewilderment, I will stumble forth and buy on command.

I say this from a position of love. I am very lucky to be in a place in my life where such rambling proclamations can be made.

I will confess I bought and received cards but, more importantly, I spent time with my loved ones. It’s taken me a long time to realise the real value of love can’t be measured by one day.

There will be flowers, chocolates, romantic meals and discrete packages bought and received in the future but not by any other schedule than ours.

No Excuses

It’s too easy for me to avoid and put off things I know I should do.

I’m not sure why that is, why my willpower diminishes at odd points of the day and with little to no warning. Some days I’m buzzed up and feeling good and getting things done, which in turn helps me feel good and get more things done – nothing like a bit of achievement to drive more achievement, regardless of the scale.

But some days I can go from that to sofa mode in a matter of minutes.

I get around this by scheduling time and by keeping a list of things I need to do, even if I don’t always stick to them it does help.

For the to do list the app I use (Todoist) has a little gamification option called Karma points which I’ll admit do keep me more honest and more driven to both use the app and to complete tasks rather than deferring them.

For the scheduled time I have slots in my calendar (recently added) to go to the gym. I don’t have a way of gaming that but I do have a post-it stuck up on a mirror in the bedroom that says “No Excuses”. By and large my approach is to remove as many obstacles as I can because I know that even the smallest road bump could trigger an excuse and a switch to sofa mode.

For example I’m about to change gyms from one which is about a 10-15 min drive from my flat but has no parking, to one which I pass on my way to work every single day and has plenty of parking. I’m gaming myself in that respect, relying on the guilt of driving past the gym every single day I’m in the office to change my behaviours.

I’ve failed at this in the past, and I will fail again. As I’ve already said, that’s okĀ but I’m trying and that’s what matters to me.