http://www.tripolypearl.com/our-poly-relationship/

Our Poly Relationship

 Before Us

Before our poly relationship, I made a trip up here. When I was 12 or 13, I can’t remember when exactly, I went to Indiana with my family for Thunder over Louisville. I loved it then too. There’s something about Indiana.

Sixteen years later I am now officially a resident of Indiana. I came up here a few months ago to meet Brian and Liz. I talk about it in my other blog poly blog posts. When I would come see them at the beginning of our poly relationship.

Homesick

Now I don’t even know how many times I have driven here or there. What once felt like a long ass drive is now a drive back home to visit. The drive gets shorter but I always stay too long. Really.. I like it here when I’m not homesick but I have never been this far away from my family. Some days it’s really hard. Typing it is even hard. It makes the knots form in my throat and fighting back the tears gives me a headache.

The Ups

I didn’t just fall for two people when I came up here. I fell in love with the city too. It’s not really the safest but it’s fucking beautiful. So, when my kids wanted to move here I was all for it.

They had a blast when I would bring them to visit. They even loved Brian and Liz too. So we started planning. I would search for houses and Brian and Liz would go check them out for me. They were more than helpful with it all.

Culture Shock

Things between me, Brian, and Liz aren’t what we had planned but they aren’t completely out of my plans yet. They have only ever known love and I don’t know how to love. So when I came up here things got a little rocky. Coming from a town that’s unincorporated and doesn’t have a single red light to here was a little bit of a culture shock.

The Downs

I didn’t know which way was which and I started to suffocate. I was spread too thin. They weren’t really suffocating me, it was everything. Moving two states away with two kids, trying to make a house a home, still give my kids a fun summer break, and make sure I didn’t neglect our poly relationship.

I was struggling. Constantly forcing myself to smile for my children, and make sure everyone got the attention they deserved. At times I had to fight the urge to cry because I was so homesick. There was too much pressure.

Our Poly Relationship

I moved knowing that we would all be closer together but I mainly moved so my children would have a better life. In a town with no red lights there’s not really too much for them to do for fun. Here there is something new everyday.

I don’t know what the future holds for the three of us or if our poly relationship will ever be mended. Only time will tell. Poly relationships aren’t easy and they take a lot of work. A triad is basically four relationships between three people. Seems like a lot when you think about it.

Regardless, I am still happy that I met them. I am happy to say we shared the things we have shared and I learned so much from them. It’s not often you see two people love each other the way that they do. Forever is rare and to them it comes natural.

They Say It’s Always Darkest Before the Dawn…

I’m not sure what I am writing this for really, not this post. I just feel a need to let my thoughts pour out onto these keys because no one can hear the shit that goes through another person’s head but some how typing this makes it feel possible. Like someone is listening to the thoughts I can’t form into words or ever really find the right moment in a conversation to bring them up.

We hit hour 124 last night and I felt the need to write laying next to him and I should have, but I dozed off only to wake up shaking. These nightmares are starting to piss me off. Seemed like I was for hours, so much can happen in a dream compared to reality but I was only asleep for a few minutes.

Right now there’s a page from the book I am reading that stuck out to me the first time I flipped through the pages. It’s the whole reason I was so eager to read the book. Danielewski must have been predicting my future thoughts or something because the first page of the intro cannot in any way be more perfect:

I still get nightmares.    In fact I get them so often I should be used to them by now.    I’m not.   No one ever really gets used to nightmares… I’m so tired.   Sleep’s been stalking me for too long to remember.   Inevitable I suppose.    Sadly though, I’m not looking forward to the prospect.   I say ‘sadly’ because there was a time when I actually enjoyed sleeping.   In fact I did it all the time.

-Mark Danielewski’s House of Leaves

Have you ever just been so lost and alone that you feel like you’ll never find your way back to the light, to that happiness you once had? The happiness that you took for granted because you never even realized that you were “happy”.  That kind of darkness even makes the stars look different. I’ve developed an appreciation for the nights where the moon seems blown up. Those nights where it’s so beautiful that it illuminates the sky and the darkness doesn’t seem quite so bad. I have spent countless nights looking at the sky hoping that I wasn’t alone in a way but also wishing that this feeling wasn’t caused by something that happens so frequently.

Then right when the darkness had consumed my life and I am getting used to living there, he shows up. The days had become filled with darkness and nights were now my days, I had adjusted my life to accommodate the dark. He makes me want to go back to my old ways, the “normal” ones. When your up at night like the ones who work third shift jobs it feels like a whole other world. It’s a different life style. You sleep during the day, for the most part, you live a night, and know a completely different set of people. The ones that live in the dark rather than light. Some by choice, some not, and others out of fear to what will happen if they succumb to it.

Two nights ago he asked me my favorite color. When I told him my favorite color is black we went back and forth, him trying to prove it’s not an actually color and me validating my choice. Funny if you think about it. How darkness has consumed my life the past 364 days to the point that even my favorite color is now black. Just another word for dark.

So he asked my second favorite…red. Two colors that are usually combined to instil fear in people or depict something bad. That’s not why I like them, I don’t know why really. But I asked his… green and brown.

I find humor and comfort in what might seem like such a small detail to some people because it’s just our favorite colors. But when juxtapose them a small detail can represent so much. They can represent fear and comfort, the known and unknown, light and dark, death and rebirth, dusk and dawn.

Today he asked to stop by after work, only different because it was during the day.  I was going to ask if something was wrong because he usually comes over after he puts his daughter to sleep. Plus I usually ask him to come over and hope that he will want to even though he’s just left a few hours before that.

He walked in with that smile that makes my body quiver. He handed me flowers and a bottle of sparkling grape juice for my kids. The flowers are red and black. 

It was the perfect surprise at the perfect time!

It was a 1000 times better than anything any man has ever done for me. Not just because it was a surprise but he paid attention. He listens when I talk. He put thought into it. I mean he went the extra mile to find flowers my favorite color and he also thought of my kids in the process. He is everything I have never had, exactly what I needed, and at the perfect time. This year that has been filled with nothing but pain and darkness  is finally almost over. He is the dawn.

 

 

 

 

They’re Always Watching

Sometimes I forget just how much my children are paying attention to everything I do. In the past eight years of being a single mom I have become painfully aware of a lot of the little things I do that will eventually add up to being huge factors in their lives. I am still new at this, some days I am horrible at it. It’s a learning process for all of us and they teach me just as much as I teach them.

Appearance, how we view ourselves, how we view others. I was a little asshole that tried way to hard to fit in during my younger years. I am still an asshole now, I just stopped trying to fit in. I was never much for judging people on their appearance though, my family was far from rich and I also grew up in a single parent house hold.

Looking back now I realize how hard my mom worked to give us the things we had. I am sure some days she wasn’t even able to stay above water, not quite drowning but fighting for those quick gasps of air every now and then. She did her best to hide it but I was always up her ass following her around, worried that she would cry if I left her alone. So I annoyed her instead that way she would be forced to smile when she came up for that quick gasp of air, she always did.

As a mom I get it, as her child I wish I would have been able to do more, want a lot less. I try to teach my kids the value of diversity. The beauty that comes with being around people from various parts of the world. The valuable wisdom that comes with being open to learning why people believe what they do instead of closed off to ones that don’t believe the same things as them. I try to teach them to respect another person’s religious practices, being open to the fact that not all are the same, and the fact that that’s okay. That some don’t have any rituals at all and that is okay too. The world’s beauty lies in the fact that we are all different.

The same diversity that I teach them to be so open to because of its overflowing beauty is the same thing will cause them to miss out on so many life chances because of how mean the world can be and its refusal to actually change into a beautiful, kind thing to be a part of.  That’s the part I don’t teach them. I don’t teach them how their beautiful skin will intimidate some people, the kind of people I teach them not to be. I shield them to that because I don’t want it to shape them into that kind of person. I don’t want them to see someone and determine a person’s worth before they have the chance to hear who the person is on the inside.

I don’t tell them that some children are taught differently than them. I can’t tell them that some parents teach their children the opposite and that they should judge a person from a far, sizing them up and basing their opinion on image instead of the goodness of their character and beauty of one’s soul. How sometimes it will be okay for them to date some people until their “one-way” lifestyle parents find out that they aren’t sun-kissed but are in fact bi-racial with a mother that is caucasian and a father that is african-american. I don’t teach them this because I don’t see a point putting a label on their beauty, a category label on them like so many people feel the need to do.

Some of you know what I mean, those random individuals from older generations, people you have never met a day in your life that walk up to you at Wal-Mart and say “Oh my word, what pretty children. What are they?” That question always confuses me.

I guess it confuses me because so many people have fought given everything to steer us away from race having such a negative impact on our everyday life that I can’t understand why strangers still feel okay walking up to us at the store and asking “what my children are”. Don’t do that, it’s rude. It’s never too early to start teaching them self-defense classes and you’ll be the practice dummy. Why can’t they just be beautiful children?

I just don’t see the point in defining a person by their skin tone. Embrace your heritage and learn from it but don’t let it define the person you become, some of us are better people because of it. Some people should not take trips to Wal-Mart with their parents and learn that it’s okay to ask random people what their children are like it’s the equivalent to asking which aisle the milk is on, it’s not. This blog is not about race issues exactly though. This is about image perception, how my children are learning to view themselves and the world around them. It’s about how the world is so hell-bent to separate us all into these categories.

I tell my kids equally that they are beautiful just as much as I tell them they are smart. God, they are both, I am truly lucky. They are beautiful, they are extremely intelligent with a hunger for knowledge that is never satisfied, and they are respectful. They don’t pick their nose in public or repeat the stuff that comes out of their mama’s foul ass mouth. I am young and it is a struggle trying to balance being a mom and no option of a co-parent lifestyle while also juggling school and work but I have amazing parents that have helped out tremendously when I couldn’t be there.

School is the biggest thing I have seen my children pick up on. It’s amazing, they place so much value on school work and even though they are only in first and second grade they are determined to go to college. To them school doesn’t stop when you graduate high-school. That’s just another stepping stone before they go off to college and mama leaves to travel the world because she will still be in her thirties. Heyyyy! I’m kidding I’m kidding, they know I will following them to whatever college their heart desires. Okay that was really a joke, I am catching the first flight to Italy.

A person can tell my kids that they are beautiful and handsome all day but to them it means so much more when you acknowledge how smart they are. I always make sure to say it too, whenever someone compliments their appearance. I always point out how hard they work in school and how they are so extraordinarily smart and that’s always the point when they look up and have a huge smile across their face. Image doesnt’ mean nearly as much to them as wisdom does and as their mother I am so grateful for that. That is what makes them truly beautiful and I hope they don’t allow the world to take that from them. Beauty is fun to look at but life’s true beauty is when you meet someone with a good soul and I hope they have the chance to encounter many in their lifetime.

I was almost lost…

2017… it almost killed me. I almost gave up. There’s two days left, we hit the 100 hour mark and I am happier than I have been all year. I have smiled more in the last 100 hours than I have all year. I haven’t slept anymore than I usually do but the hours have passed too fast where they once crept.

I have been riding that euphoric high a person gives you when your soul connects with another. A mix between finally returning home after a horrible trip and the feeling in your gut once the roller-coaster makes that huge drop after climbing to the top of the tracks. Breathtakingly beautiful yet horrifying.

But I almost didn’t get home, I almost gave up.

I didn’t think I would make it to see the end of the year but I kept getting back up for my children. This was the worst year of my life but I couldn’t leave them. I have seen what it does to the ones that are left. I started to see it in their eyes, the depression and horrible shit I had been shielding them from was starting to become noticeable. They started asking me if I was okay and giving me extra kisses at bedtime.

That might all seem normal but a mother knows when her child becomes aware of something you try so hard to protect them from. Sometimes it happens no matter how hard we try. The world tends to seep through the cracks, stealing a tiny portion of our innocence each time.

I don’t have a New Year’s resolution. I just want to have more better days in 2018. More days spent in the sunshine with my children, I have spent 2017 in the dark. It was a melancholy year.

I want to ride this roller-coaster as long as I can and not worry about the what-ifs. I want my shoulders to bend when the world creeps in so I can allow more stuff to roll off, the weight of her hands can be so heavy. I want to be happy again, I am envious of the person I once was, before 2017.