Exploration

So back at the beginning of the year I started identifying as polyamorous, which isn't wrong exactly, but it also feels like identifying that way can create a lot of misconceptions about how much I prioritize sex.
Relationship Anarchy is actually much closer to being right than 'polyamorous'; it's still under the poly 'umbrella' but encompasses the idea that sex doesn't play into how important a relationship is.  Not nearly as many people have heard of this term, which has the negative that I almost always need to explain what it means, and the positive that there aren't as many misconceptions.

More recently, I'm settling into believing that rather than being lesbian, I am actually a demisexual, and that seems like it is the piece that was missing.
One of the things that surprised me a little, after Joanne passed, was that the idea that I might not have sex again for a very long time (if ever) really didn't affect me that much, and certainly didn't inspire the kind of existential dread that lack-of-sex seems to cause others.  Even when the time came around where I could say (brag? whine?) that it had been "over three years since I had sex"; if I'm being honest, it felt a little disingenuous for me to mention it as if it were a problem that I wanted to have solved, when in reality I wasn't all that worried about it.

I've actually never started a relationship where sex or physical intimacy was the goal; I'm honestly not sure I could if I tried.  I'm drawn to people because of shared interests. I'm drawn to people who can make me think, who can inspire me.  I'm very drawn to other people who are open with their feelings.  I'm drawn to people who don't make me feel tired when I'm around them.  I'm drawn to people who make me feel needed (this one can be dangerous).  Heck, I can even be drawn to people who just like eating my cooking, that's probably enough to get you a dinner invite.

Once I make a trust connection with a person, then I start feeling attracted to them.  I'm very attracted to people who I feel safe with.  And I start wanting to explore as many different kinds of intimacy within that relationship as I can, whether it's the intellectual intimacy of exploring big ideas together, the emotional intimacy of being able to share feelings and hopes and fears and joys and sorrows... and yes, the physical intimacy of holding hands, hugs, leaning on each other, all the way up to cuddling or more.
Each relationship finds its own level of intimacy in all of those things, and it's natural and beautiful.  And because the trust connection has to exist, it all needs to be very consensual; my biggest "turn-off" is not feeling sure the other person wants whatever it is we are doing--and that applies to all the kinds of intimacy, not just physical stuff.  It might even be why I tend not to continue a thought if I get interrupted, since the interruption makes it feel like the other person didn't want to hear what I was saying.

In the end I know the labels aren't important by themselves, they're only as valuable as how well they communicate who I really am.  But maybe that's why it's important to me to find the right ones.

Independence Day

I want to try everything

even though I could fail

even though I could get hurt

even though I might learn it's not right for me

I'll never really know unless I try

I'll never really succeed

if I never really risk failing

I want to push through the low self-worth

find my worth, claim it

cherish it

I want to say yes to friends more

be places I might get asked more

go out with friends more

invite friends more

Dare to throw a party

even though no-one might come

I want to learn to swim

Even though I am scared of the water

Go to the fair

Go to a ball game

Go to a concert

Even though I am scared of the crowds

I want to be with people

who make it feel safe

to risk embarrassing myself

maybe even a little fun

to risk embarrassing myself

People who love me

I don't want to leave

until I've tried everything

even though I could fail

--j.r.m.b

Potential

There is a seed

that is yet to sprout

There is a flower

that is yet to open

There are wings

that are yet to be tested

There is a spark

that is yet to light its flame

There is a spring

that is yet to carve its river

There is a Star

that is yet to become a Sun

O Lord, O Lady, Great Divine

May I have courage, may I have strength

to

let go

and allow

the possibilities

to become

reality

--j.r.m.b.

Resuscitation

I was going to make another Facebook status update, but I decided it felt right to come dust this off and write here instead.  I may write here in place of Facebook more often, now; I think I often like to write longer and deeper entries than the Facebook platform is really for.  And that's not even considering the recent "trust issues" surrounding that site.
So, the past few months in a nutshell (which will not be news to people who are connected to me on Facebook) is that I got referred by my doctor to a sleep specialist, got diagnosed with severe sleep apnea, spent a month waiting for insurance to approve treatment, and have now been on APAP therapy for two weeks.  I'm doing very well with it as far as adjusting to sleeping with the equipment, and it's really helping with the severe chronic fatigue I was suffering from.

Now that I'm really starting to feel better, I feel like I'm at a bit of an impasse, or maybe "crossroads" would be a better word.  Maybe it's that I'm not taking this energy for granted, right now, so it feels like a momentous decision when I'm thinking about how I'll want to spend it.  I've given a lot of thought toward getting serious about starting to sell on eBay again, both to declutter and let go of things that don't fit anymore, and also in connection with my new numismatic hobby.
I've also been feeling, though, that I'd like to focus on simple things, especially at first.  Just working on getting the house and the yard back in order, after letting things go while I wasn't feeling well, will feel nice, I think.
I'm also thinking I'd like to get back to cooking for myself; the thought just occurred to me tonight, I'll really be re-learning how to cook, this time cooking for one.  Maybe it was a blessing in disguise to be out of the Kitchen for a while, so it will be a new beginning, instead of trying to adapt what worked when I was cooking for two.

And because I decided to write here, I ended up re-reading my last entry, which this one seems to connect with perfectly.  Ultimately, I don't want to pick the one thing from the list that I want to do, I want to balance things to create a nice, simple, and fulfilling life for myself.  That said, I think I often make ambitious plans for myself; I think I will just need to make sure I ease my way into things so I can find where that balance point is.  I can't go too far wrong with cleaning the house, of course, except by overdoing it; it didn't get this way in a day and I can fix it gradually, too.  I don't have to create a whole bunch of eBay listings, I can start with one or two auctions just to get the confidence going again.  I can find some simple recipes to make on days off, I don't have to jump straight into cooking every night no matter what.

I guess this means I'm at the same place I was a few months ago, just with enough energy to have a chance of getting it done.  I just have to pace myself.  It's funny, I can be extremely patient, in most ways, but not with things like this--I end up thinking of the girl from the Willy Wonka movie, "I want it now!"
I probably still haven't even gotten the full effects of the sleep apnea treatment yet, honestly, so I know taking everything slow and steady would be sensible.  But, to quote another kids' movie, "I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it."  Who knows though, maybe I will surprise myself this time.

Nesting in the Tree with Strong Roots

Every time I decide it's time to write here, I get a little surprised at how long it's been.  I don't suppose it's good or bad, though; I certainly don't want to think of it as an obligation.  If I need to write, then I will.
And since this is my first time of the year writing here, it's certainly not too late to talk about New Year's stuff, even if we are two weeks in.

I've been thinking a lot about goals, recently.  Mostly about how it feels nice to be starting to even want them again, after Joanne passed, but getting past that, thinking about what they should be.  Right now, I'm imagining that my real goal for this year should be to create balance.  I feel like I want to work on "nesting," this year, giving myself a place where the roots sink deep into the ground.  Not that I won't still flow back and forth, because I have to be what I am, but to find the center so I can keep from going off course.

Right after Joanne passed away, I think my "hobby" was investing, for a while.  I inherited her retirement savings, and the whole concept of having a net worth (one that wasn't a negative number, at least) was new and exciting to me.  I wanted to learn all about how stocks worked, and do everything I could to make sure I was a good steward of Joanne's savings, to make sure it kept growing and would be there to provide for me, like she always said she wished she could do.  And I did have a goal in mind, thinking it would be good to be able to retire at 57 and 11 months--the age she was when she passed--which, coincidentally, would have me retiring on her 73rd birthday, in 2031.
But of course, that can't be everything.  The question I never asked myself then was, "And then what?"

Since then, I've been off on other things:  I relived my childhood a little and bought toys, for a while.  I got myself all into self-protection and learning how to shoot, for a year or so.  I turned irritation with busy stores into a goal of stocking enough food to avoid shopping during next year's holiday season.  Most recently, I let a decision to diversify my savings with bullion coins turn into an infatuation with round shiny objects.
The common thread with all of those, is that I have a tendency to make each one of them "all there is," while they're the New Thing.  But of course, none of those things can be everything, either.

I want my goal this year to be to fit those things together.  It feels like they should fit together.  The coins feel like they should fit into the investing; the investing and the self-protection feel like they should fit into the preparedness.  (The expensive and space-consuming Japanese toys can probably go on eBay, which will make them fit into the investing too.)

Then, if I can get things fitting together without focusing too much on one single piece, maybe I can find other things that fit, too.  Finally get back to doing some crafting, and finishing some cross-stitch projects?  Maybe try my hand at gardening?  Even just finding an enjoyable way to donate time to my church.  But first, I need to make the foundation--I need to build that nest, in the tree with the strong roots--so that those things have a strong base to stand on, and fit with, and won't fall apart as soon as I'm on to the next thing, anymore.

Alone in the Crowd?

Back here after another couple of months, it looks like.  It's interesting to me that this entry will unintentionally carry on from the last one.  It seems like I am in a similar place, although it feels like I am in a better place.

Last Sunday, I had another agoraphobia episode at church; fortunately I hadn't been silly enough to have obligations that I signed up for, this time, so the idea that I could leave if I needed to gave me enough strength and feeling of safety to be able to stay--in the building to hear the message, at least, if not in the main sanctuary.

The main trigger was that a lovely and caring, but apparently extroverted, lady decided to sit in the seat right next to me (right up inside my personal space bubble, despite there being enough empty seats to "spread out") and started engaging me in conversation.  She said she was concerned about me because she always sees me sitting here off to the side by myself, and she worried I wasn't making friends and connections in the church, and could she join me so she could get to know me better?

I agreed, naturally, because that's what reasonable people do, even though my mind processed her request as, "You always stay over here where it's safe; why don't you ever plunge into this tortured, chaotic, indecipherable mass of writhing bodies with us?  Can I try to convince you how enjoyable and non-horrifying it is?"  And I think that would have been okay, if quaintly misguided; but then a man I didn't recognize* sat down in my "blind spot" on the other side, and I started to feel the light-headedness coming on.

I'm thinking today about the original assumption that was made:  That I must be somehow less happy, less connected, because I gravitate toward the edges, not toward the middle.  I found it surprising, because I didn't feel unhappy; to me I was in the perfect spot--not at home being truly isolated, and not in the middle of everything being overwhelmed.
It makes me think of how I love where my (formerly 'our') home is; far enough out that it feels secluded, but close enough that within a half-hour I can be at Alderwood or Bellevue, or almost to Seattle, where there is more shopping and activities than anybody could possibly stand.  I think it's perfect.  When my mom visited me, though, she found it oppressively crowded and busy here.  A friend from the city, on the other hand, might comment, "Wow, you really live out in the middle of nowhere, don't you?"
It makes me realize, my idea of "too much" is somebody else's idea of "not enough."  And it doesn't mean either of us are wrong, it means we are different and beautifully unique.

Getting back to church, you know, I can see why someone, especially someone extroverted, would imagine that.  It's true; even during the after-service "coffee communion," I tend to just find a seat away from the crowd, with lots of personal space around it.  I'm happy to engage with people if they break away from the pack to come say 'hi' to me, and I'm also content to just sit and watch the crowd, taking in its energy as it flows this way and that, in and around and through itself like a grand subconscious dance, if no-one does.  Either way, I'm happy there, in that perfect-for-me spot, connected enough, but not overwhelmed.

So, don't worry about me too much.  I don't stay on the outskirts because I'm unhappy or grieving.  I'm out here because it's right where I like to be.  It always has been.  You might think it wouldn't be enough for you.  If so, we are beautifully different, and I won't mind if you join the dance.  I might even go with you, every now and again, but only for a short time, because it's not where I belong.  And if you ever need to rest, if only for a short time, by all means, feel free to come sit with me in safety, for a while.


*I almost wrote "scary-looking man", but realized that's pretty much implied by "man I don't recognize", so I doubt that objectively he was any more threatening than anyone else.

Relapse

I think I might need to just accept that I have issues with agoraphobia.  Specifically, the kind that triggers on being in a crowded space, whether or not the space in question is especially 'open' or not.  (Though I do notice, with a true "wide open space" like a parking lot, even an empty one, I compulsively check behind myself a lot.)

I write about this now, because I gave myself another panic attack this weekend.  I made a commitment (and even re-confirmed it) which set me up to not feel able to leave, in a space that got way too crowded.  I even tried to make the space feel less crowded by adding more tables and seats, but those filled up too.  So I retreated to a smaller area, which also got crowded and hectic, and then I started feeling dizzy and short of breath, and had to go outside and sit in the woods until it passed.  I did go back in and try to help a little to finish up, but after going home, I spent the rest of the day feeling too exhausted to even sit around playing video games, and barely found energy to make myself something for dinner.

If I'm honest, I've always had an aversion to crowds; I've never really been up for sporting events or fairs or that sort of thing.  (The fair always sounds like fun, but if I go, the crowd always gets to me.) Even shopping is only really enjoyable if I go when the stores aren't very busy.  And I think two is the perfect number for a social engagement; the larger the number, the more I end up staying in my shell for the most part.
It's only been this problematic with real panic attacks recently, though; I'm guessing it's because now I have grief overlaid onto it.

Last night while I was trying to work up the notion to get up out of the recliner and get ready for bed, I watched some funny dog videos on my tablet, that came up on Facebook.  It made me laugh harder than it had any right to, and somewhere in the middle of it, the giggles turned into a huge wailing sobbing fit of grief that caught me completely by surprise, and left me wondering, "Where did that come from?"  It made me feel about half crazy.

I don't know, maybe I am.