No more terms June 29, 2009

I can’t count the number of time one or more members of our poly household have blogged about hierarchies, fairness, equality, or primary status. In fact I am beginning to see these terms as words I would like to strike from the dictionary.

There was a time when it could be argued that I disliked or misunderstood these terms because I was full, I had what I needed, therefore could not see the point of view from the “quad” member feeling the need of one of these terms.

Now I can say having been on both sides, and sitting now on the side of inequality I still wish these words no longer existed.

For 16 months while Fix lived away from home I spent almost every single night sleeping in the same bed as Goddess and Big. She slept in the middle between us wrapped around me. When Big ended our relationship I felt being in their bed with them was no longer the place for me so I moved back to my room, which in the end was exactly where I needed to be as Fix returned home within  a matter of weeks.

Suddenly I went from being held nightly by the woman I love to finding stolen moments and hoping and praying for any time Big would allow us.

You see Big refuses to sleep alone. So unless he is away on business, Goddess is with him. He demands Primary status, he demands she act in a hierarchical fashion, he demands the lions share of her time or attention. Recently they have had some rather serious problems in their marriage, mostly because of the above listed demands. He feels entitled to these things and feels he isn’t getting them.

If he wasn’t getting the “preferential” treatment he wanted then please tell me why it is he has had her sleeping next to him for the last 11 nights and I haven’t. Why it is he is leaving for 48 hours and upon his return she will again be expected to be by his side each night until he leaves again. It could be 6 days or 6 weeks.. it matters little. She is to be by his side when he is in residence.

Do not misunderstand. It is not sex I am looking for. It is the opportunity to have her eyes and beautiful smile be the last thing I see as I close my eyes, to feel her arms around me as I drift into slumber. It is rolling over at 3 a.m and feeling her warmth next to me. It is opening my eyes as dawn peeks thru the windows to see her sweet face relaxed in sleep.

I suppose I should be grateful that we are still living under the same roof. But I ask myself daily how i can move through our home with her in our daily duties as mothers and homemakers and still miss her terribly. My eyes search her out. I ache to run my hands through her hair, to smell her skin, to hold her to touch her.  She is with me and yet I feel completly alone.

Big would NEVER stand for almost two weeks away from her and yet he expects Fix and I to. He thinks because he is her legal husband and we are “just lovers”, he has the rights to her time and we have what he allows.

I admit to being hurt by his actions towards me. But I am finally  in a place where I can see past that. In fact I think he did me a favor by cutting me loose. But what hurts more is how he demeans what Goddess and I have and what Fix and Goddess have by placing us on “standy-by” status. We are supposed to wait in the wings until he is away, and only then can we have any place with her.

And within all of this turmoil is Goddess herself. Smack in the middle. Trying to balance us all. As much as Big’s actions hurt Fix and I, as much as he is “taking” from us, he has NO idea how he is hurting her and what he has taken from her. Why can’t he see that the more he gives, the more he will get back.

I wish so much we could all just live and love in harmony.

Temptress

Turning the Tables April 1, 2009

There reached a point almost 2 years ago when the arguing and hurtful words that Fix and I slung at each other were said to hurt. They may have started as a discussion, as a need to be heard and understood, but eventually it would degrade into sarcasm, hurtful barbs and all out meanness. Threats, ultimatums, and cutting remarks became status quo.
I finally reached a point where I was worn down, I couldn’t fight any longer and I felt like my sanity was slipping away. It was during this time when I found safe haven in the bedroom and in the arms of my Goddess. Things would get awful with Fix and I would retreat to her room where I could cry and she would hold me. Where I could breathe again and she would help me find peace inside. She helped me to shore up my reserves so I was ready for the next battle. I know all of this sounds awful, but for a long while there was love between Fix and I, but there was war as well.
Fix and I needed to learn to communicate, to talk without hurting each other, to learn to listen and understand each other. We needed to learn to argue, to debate, not to fight. We were good at fighting; we had to become good at communicating. Big and Goddess were our role models. Their manner of being able to talk out calmly and rationally even the most difficult of subjects was admirable and something I strove to do.
We are not perfect at this new way of communication, and I expect each of us to slip on occasion, but it is both of our goals to work towards open, honest, CALM , communication now and in the future.
The last several months have been very difficult in our home. While there is joy in having our family back together again, we are still being ripped apart. Big and I no longer have a relationship. He wants Fix and I to take our family and leave. He feels we are the reason he and Goddess are having difficulty overcoming their issues. He demands primary status from her and begrudges every moment of time spent with us. He wants all of her and full open poly for himself. He is so fervent in his desire for his wishes to be met that he is slowly and systematically tearing Goddess apart. I see what is happening to them an almost replay of Fix and I. Old issues, old hurts, things from the past have finally become to much for each of them to deal with and he thinks the way to fix them is to pull her to him and away from us. Sounds familiar.
Even more familiar is their manner of disagreement. While there are no raised voices and the majority of their disagreement is behind closed doors, the words are still hurtful, at times meant to demean or belittle, the threats, ultimatums, sarcasm and cutting remarks are like seeing the last 2 years with Fix in movie replay. He demands she talk when doesn’t want to or feels mentally and emotionally exhausted, at times using what could be called guerilla tactics. Sometimes I see the pain in her eyes after a particularly hurtful “talking” session and I want to rail at him, but know that isn’t my place. Goddess is a strong and capable woman, but there is fragility about her. One that makes you want to protect and shield her. I know Big feel that way about her, he an I have discussed it often. So I wonder now, is it pure selfishness to have all of his needs met and act in a way that pleases only him that has caused him to step away from his usual character and treat her in such a manner??
He and I have spoke often of his depth of love for her, he has been moved to tears often in his description of his feelings. I never once question the truth and validity of such. And I still do not. But I do question if he cherishes her; if he loves her in a way that is open and unconditional. I see no compersion from him where she is concerned. He has no empathy for the feelings of others. He seems to simply want things the way he wants them and expects others to conform. I never really saw this side of him until recently and I am truly broken hearted. I have seen him for three years as a rock, an upstanding, honorable, honest (to a fault) and loving man. All things that caused me to fall deeply in love with him.
But recently I wonder if I was blinded by that love. Did I only see what I wanted???
I am still deeply in love with this man; his absence in my life is painful in ways I can’t describe. I hold it together while he is away working, but when he arrives home and walks into the room no amount of self talk keeps me in one piece. I can’t look into his eyes, I can hardly look at him at all without the ache hitting me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. How I can I be so desperately in love with this man when I mean nothing to him I do not know. More still, how could I have been so blind these three years? I thought I brought something to him, I thought I meant something to him. I see now I was nothing more than a means to an end. All of those times we were together intimately I would gaze into his eyes and smile at him I thought the smile I was given back for sincere. I think now it was given for the sake of placation. I was a nice diversion when he needed physical relief. I have heard him say to me the words “I Love you” and yet I now know they were not meant, they were not real. He could argue that he loved me once but that he wasn’t “IN” love with me. How then if that was true… if he really loved me in any form could he toss me aside in favor of the new relationship he had yet to find. How could he demand I take my family and leave if he felt anything for me?
Our littlest was 14 months old when we brought this family together. She knows nothing else. She thinks Big is as much her Daddy as Fix is. He walked thru the door last night after 2 days away and I could hear her from the next room gleefully calling “ Hi Daddy” to him. I had to excuse myself and give in to yet another sobbing session. The pain of seeing him and not being able to be a part of his life other than that of a pariah, and to hear my baby girl call to her “Daddy” in welcome without any idea that he would cast her aside along with the rest of us was crippling to my heart.
I know one day the pain will lessen, I know eventually I can get thru a day with out tears. I know that the family we have all created together can and will be spectacular. And I know that if he would just back off, relax his hold a bit and let Goddess come to him in her time he would be able to find that which he seeks. He would be able to find his peace and live his life in a way that would bless him in many ways and that as a family we could carry on our mission of raising these beautiful children together and receiving more love and happiness than we could ever expect existed.
~ Temptress

The Long and Winding Road September 1, 2008

 “The long and winding road
That leads to your door
Will never disappear
I’ve seen that road before
It always leads me here…”

It has been a long 9 months since the night I asked Fix to leave the family home.

Initially the intention was a 3-6 month therapeutic separation. Unfortunately we have surpassed the expected time frame, however I can say with great joy we are on the right track.

Somewhere in the vicinity of mid-July we turned a corner. I can not say what it was exactly that caused the winds to change, but change they did.

The happy smiling man I married almost 18 years ago, the caring warm hearted bear I shared with Goddess 3 years ago, the Daddy the children have waited for, has returned.

We are still taking things slowly, one day at a time, but now we know that each day brings us closer to being  under one roof again. Each day brings our family closer to being healed and whole.

 

~Temptress

 

Do You See What I See? December 26, 2007

As usual on Christmas Day, I was up before daybreak. Being a morning person by nature, I laid awake for nearly an hour listening to the children try to be quiet with their stockings before my nervous energy got the best of me. I finally crawled quietly out of bed and put on my festive dress for the day, even primping the hair and make up, which is something I rarely do without cause.

Fix was supposed to spend the day with us, and I was very much looking forward to having him here with our family for this day. Knowing his sleeping patterns are similar to my own, I figured he would be here early and I was right. The doorbell rang at 7am sharp. The kids all ran to the front foyer excited to see him. He was surrounded with small arms and greeted with sweet affection. I stood on the stair landing watching with much delight.

I miss Fix, so I love having him come by the house. I love who he is when he is balanced and steady. Especially on a special day like Christmas, I was hoping he’d want to stay all day. Instead he was with us for Santa time and presents then abruptly gone with a quiet, “thanks for having me,” by 10 am. He left both women and a few of the children in tears wondering exactly what we’d done this time to drive him away so quickly.

He has said he feels like a guest here, and thusly feels uncomfortable when he is here. I can understand that point of view, but I see it much differently. Feeling disconnected in our particular situation is expected, but there are so many ways to overcome that feeling. I feel like he keeps us at arms length to further punish us for asking him to seek help outside our home.

Fix is generally so uncommunicative, I find myself projecting what he might/should/must be feeling from day to day. Unfortunately, I have only two things to base my judgments; that is my own feelings (certainly not akin to many of his) and my experience of knowing him intimately for the last two years (also another unreliable source for interpreting his moods.)

Maybe my problem is I feel as if I shouldn’t be forced to interpret for another adult. I resent the amount of energy I have to spend deciphering and dealing with the mood fluxes in our home. I want others around me to tell me what they are thinking and feeling and why; I expect them to speak their truths to me. I just don’t believe this is something Fix is able to do at this point.

The trouble is every negative mood and emotional situation seems to manifest itself as anger. Whether he is sad, depressed, hurt, mad, confused, frustrated, feels deceived or betrayed – no matter the real emotion, he behaves in a hostile manner. Situations are good or bad with him; all black and white, with very little gray. I know some of this is coded within him from his upbringing, some is basic personality, and some is the PTSD and depression festering its way to the reoccurring boil over point.

We want Fix healthy, happy, and whole; and eventually, home. To accomplish that will take more than a few visits without incidence. We’ve collected information, found him apartments, and located therapists. What we need him to do is make a phone call, set some appointments, and follow through. We’re not looking for perfection, just a consistent and valiant effort.

What we’re afraid is he’ll take the easy way out – do nothing and just let us slip away with nothing more than angry words of blame and repugnance. And that is what hurts the most. People tend to spend their time and money on what is important to them. So don’t speak to me of your plight or intentions, just show me your checkbook and your calendar and I know volumes. Lots of people work long work weeks and still manage to have a full life. It just comes down to making choices instead of making excuses.

Doesn’t he see how much we love him? Doesn’t he see how his enduring misery affects all of us? Doesn’t he see how much his antagonistic words and actions hurt us? At any time is he able to realize he has responsibilities for his behavior? Or does it all boil down to how we’ve hurt him, how victimized he is, or how much we are to blame for his woes? What changes must transpire inside a person to allow them to comprehend the perspective of another?

I can see both sides of the struggle; the challenge now is how to illuminate fair accountability through the therapeutic reconciliation process and bring our family back together in peace and harmony. But maybe that is a vision only I see.

~the laundry goddess, December 26, 2007

Evac Mode December 17, 2007

About a month ago our Little Miss (age 13) had podiatry surgery. It wasn’t a major undertaking as procedures go, but still important that it go well. As Temptress and LM14 drove out of the driveway at twilight with our pre-operative patient, I was left in the middle of the driveway with a highly agitated Fix. He was supposed to go with them. He had taken the day off work. Then at the 11th hour there was a debate over what was in the best interest of the girl.

Without going into a lot of detail, I will try and be brief when recounting that LM13 was uncomfortable at the possibility that Fix would be in a less than jovial frame of mind. And she was right. All her concerns about his potential behavior were proven correct before they even got out of the driveway. The main difference this time is that in addition to Temptress and myself, his anger and hostility was aimed at the vulnerable daughter on her way to the surgical suite.

There have been times in the past two years when Fix has had altercations with Young Man (now age 15), some of which have turned physical. For the most part, the adolescent is guilty of belligerence and this puffed up “You think I’m afraid of you?” rebellion. But Fix has been equally guilty of playing the domineering father role; which comes quite easy for him with his towering posture and his icy expressions. But it usually ended there and rarely did he reign that countenance upon the girls or the younger children.

I can say for certain that his ugly display of over stimulated super-ego frightened both young ladies that morning, and it didn’t settle well with Temptress or me. It’s understandable, albeit not tolerable, for his anger to fester and explode upon the adults, but to be so out of control or unconcerned for the children’s psyche that he would not hold his diatribe for more suitable audiences was, for me, a final indicator that his internal challenges had come to a place where our family was not detached from the demons he fights.

As a self-proclaimed peacemaker personality, I zoomed in on LM 14 once they arrived home from surgery later in the day. I asked her how she thought LM13 handled the incident from the morning. Her reply to me was, “She didn’t cry too long. And I think she’s ok. We’ve both been in ‘evac mode’ for a while now.”

I sat still on that bed for a moment or two totally absorbing the depth of that statement. Then I asked the fateful question. “What exactly is Evac Mode, hon?”

“Evac Mode is the code we [the two older girls] use when things in the house get too heated and we have to shuttle the younger kids out of earshot or tuck them away for safekeeping,” she said plainly.

Now I admit there have been a few times when the adolescent and his father were sparring that we had asked the girls to take the young ones downstairs or outside for distraction, but it was not anything we ever ask them to do on any type of ongoing basis. And apparently, Evac Mode was something they came up with on their own, not only with YM15 was involved, but as a precaution anytime there were intense interchanges.

I grew up in a peaceful household. Big says that is simply a product of the single mother-only child situation, but I know it goes beyond our personal household and extended into both sides of my ancestry. Never in my entire life prior to two years ago had I ever witnessed the verbal tearing down of ones professed to love. I’m told that is “not how most of America lives,” so if you want to say I’ve been spoiled in that regard I can accept that opinion.

I must say, however, that peaceful conflict resolution has become a standard for me, something I’m not willing to negotiate. To me, how you treat others is a sign of respect, not just for the other, but for yourself as well. This time however, it isn’t about me. It isn’t about my principles for personal relationships. This time the issue slides right up underneath my Mommy Armour and just shakes the core of what I think protective parenting is all about.

As I think back about that morning, all I can remember is the look on the faces of those two girls. The fact that children felt so insecure about the stability and harmony in our home that they took it upon themselves to come up with a premeditated path to safety “just in case” is absolutely telling about how the children feel about the course their life has taken.

As much as I love Fix and as much as I want our lives together to work, it absolutely cannot be the way it has been. Under no circumstances do I want my children living in fear in their own home. The yelling and stomping and slamming of doors must stop. The loud and purposeful retorts within the sound of small ears must be controlled. And the ability to take responsibility for one’s actions without throwing blame towards the justification of poor behavior has to be paramount.

I know there are things we all need to work on and change, but a lot of the change will fall on the shoulders of Fix. I hope for all our sakes he is willing to make the effort and that our family is worth all the work and difficult choices that it will take to make our home safe and secure. It is what our children deserve.

Evacuations should be practiced for fire drills and hurricanes, not families.

the laundry goddess, November 30, 2007

What Dreams May Come November 4, 2007

Our Little Miss, age 3, has been in our cohabitating home for 21 of her 36 months. She was a mere 15 months old when we moved our loves and their family to our city. We used to think that when the younger children got older, they would scarcely remember a time when the whole tribe wasn’t together; that we would all meld into one family blob.

As the primary domestic engineer, I do most of the cooking/feeding, some of the bathing/bedtime routine, and a fair portion of the children’s general looking after, including routine discipline and special events/treats. Temptress and I assumed given the young age of LM3, that having two mommies to care for her would in some way negate the “my mommy” curve, at least with one of our kidlets. Not so, not even by a long shot. Recently Little Miss has taken to demanding “I want Mommy.” And she is not ambivalent about which one.

This does not bother me in an “I want her to think of us equally” way, although it can be quite annoying in the “I don’t have time to play ring around the mommy duty” when things need to get done in a timely manner and the little stinker wants to take everything through the Mommy Appeals Process. But her persistence has gotten me to thinking about what seems to be this innate place inside most of us that is desperately in need of that ONE other person to be of significant importance.

We also have a similar situation with LM13, as she has been stubbornly separating out our familial lines since the adults began trying to erase them. We hear things from her like, “that’s not the way OUR family used to do it” or “Our family always puts the cranberry salad in this bowl.” It’s an understandable defense strategy for a kid who doesn’t grasp the full impact of our poly blending. Even more so when we acknowledge she has some strong loyalty issues that surround this posture.

Another thing I’m beginning to see with all of the children (with one exception – there is always an exception, isn’t’ there??) is that no matter how much they love our “one big happy” existence, sooner or later they all will demand time with the care-giver of origin. No matter which child asks, or in what manner they request, there seems to be a need for one-on-one, personal, private, and specialized time alone with their “most important” for the moment.

I have to think that the terms Primary, Secondary, and etc. in the poly vocabulary may not be so much of a job title as it is the soul’s need to cling to the hope that no matter what else happens in this life, there is at least one other soul on this planet with whom you truly belong. This may indeed be the #1 argument for Monogamy’s supporters. But taken to extreme, I suppose you could use this same argument for only having one child per family as well.

Many months ago, after what seemed like many months of intense discussion over the primary/secondary issue with Big, I told him in the heat of a rather prickly moment that I never wanted him to utter those words again. And a nod in his favor, he hasn’t. But the removal of those terms from his speech did not eradicate his feelings on the subject. I know he still needs me to be first, most, best for him. Unfortunately, my best is not now and never has been enough for his contentment.

I realized within a few years of starting our ever growing family, that the role of house frāu, however important at the time, would not satisfy me long term, but it was important enough in the big picture to dedicate three plus decades to that calling. I knew I would have time for me/us; for fun and frivolity; for indulgence and spontaneity once the children were a little older and needed less of everything. I love being a Mommy, but it isn’t my entire self. I have so many more facets that have either been temporarily placed on hold, or have not yet been given opportunity. I cannot do or be all, and for this small time in our life line, the children and their needs outweigh Big’s need to socialize, or at least my ability to be the mingling side kick.

I’m usually not one to proclaim my better qualities, but in our prior monogamous life Big had it good by most people’s standards; he had it really, really good if only by our own standards. I was a stay at home mom and I was rather effective at what I did. I lived for my family. He was my universe and my world revolved around him. I did with him, and for him, in his time, and normally by his whim. I’m just now coming to terms with the flaw in that Utopia.

It’s not that I believed I was “all that.” I just wanted to be all that. With my conservative upbringing I had been trained to think I could be everything he needed, and then in turn he would be everything I needed. And it wasn’t long before I realized I could never live up to that ideal. Neither could he. That childhood fed Cinderella dream of happily ever after began to get a little cloudy and the circumstances I shaped for myself began to look more like trappings than the path to fulfillment I’d imagined. Slowly I realized not only could I not be everything, but I wasn’t nearly enough. Reality hit hard that day, and most every day since.

So here we sit in the middle of Polyville and I’m thinking we’re a long damn way from 1950’s Leave it to Beaver monogamy, or, in our case, let’s use the 1970’s Brady Bunch Gone Wild analogy. There are days I feel very lost in a world I don’t understand, and there is no place to go for any definitive answers. We’ve had to meter out our rules of engagement and determine for ourselves what works. This can be quite troublesome for the paint-by-the-numbers kind of gal I tend to be.

Big and I are now of the belief that one person cannot be expected to fill all needs of another. We’ve traveled down a path away from monogamy and into polyamory. Our poly-fi status meets my need for variety and my need for security. Big, Fix, and Temptress together fill the vast majority of my emotional and physical needs. We are an amazing team. I’ll be honest that not every single hole is filled, but those that are remaining are minor, or temporarily unimportant – for all things shall come to me in due time. Within these walls and with these people I have a very full and joyous life. Apparently, this is not the case for Big.

Thanks to his internet poly communications, Big now refers to our sizeable family as a “confining box.” Somehow in his internal rationalization of our alternate lifestyle, he convinced himself that “true poly” means love is unlimited (ok, most poly folk will agree with that, as do T and I) but in his mind, he can no longer be enclosed by our “fi” constraints. I’m not sure why this surprised me, as he wasn’t able to live within his vows of monogamy either.

The question is not so much if it is permissible for him to continue his ongoing pursuit of other relationships outside our quad, as much as it is whether he is fulfilling the commitments he has already put in place. Isn’t there a fine line between following your dreams, and being selfish in your pursuits to the exclusion of those trophies you already have on the shelf?

As much of a contradiction as it may seem, I hear him say things like, “This isn’t what I signed up for,” and “I may have wanted more, but I didn’t want to loose what I already had.” I think what seems to be the problem is he underestimated the effect that his actions and wanderings would have on the starry eyed 18 year old bride he married. He took some steps that set some changes in motion, and the inertia is still producing ripples that are on some days outside his comfort zone.

I’m not sure how to help him move from, “You can’t have your cake and eat it too,” to “Whoever said you can’t have your cake and eat it too never had dessert at our house.” That change in mentality is really just a paradigm shift, but compersion has to evolve from within a person no matter how much I’d love to give him a dose or two. Another quote I’ve heard lately is, “Jealousy isn’t about how much you love someone, it’s about how insecure you are.”

There are days I feel his discomfort. I can sympathize with his plight. He sees our situation from his own eyes and from his point of view. The best analogy I can come up with for my own understanding is… he saw a cool brochure for a trip that looked adventurous and fun, we planned and packed, but when we arrived at the destination, it wasn’t exactly as he had envisioned. That is the trouble with journeying into uncharted waters. You think you know what you’re looking for, but you can’t be certain it’s actually out there.

Everyday we make choices. Some choices are planned and well thought out, others are spontaneous and impulsive. Sometimes you achieve the results you wanted and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you can get away with stepping over boundaries and other days you can’t. There are consequences to every action. Even inaction will eventually reap a consequence. Sometimes you can predict a consequence and other times they come from the blue and smite thee about the head and shoulders.

There are many things in this game called LIFE that are out of our control, but our job as sentient beings is to take what we have and move forward in such a way that leaves us with as little regret as possible. I’ve come to a place where I may not have had a lot of choice with the genesis, but I’m feeling relatively content in the journey. I wish that was the case for everyone.

In the immortal words of Forrest Gump, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.”

~the laundry goddess, November 4, 2007

And the Gloves Come Off October 22, 2007

I live in a family of my choosing. I believe in for better or worse, even if I didn’t take those vows with all of them. But lately I keep asking myself where one draws the line between loving unconditionally and protection of the innocent.

Everything in life seems to be a trade off; every action has a consequence; every attitude a ripple effect. No matter how cautious one approaches decisions, fall out is likely to occur somewhere along the line. The adage that you can’t please all the people all the time is ever so much more true in family situations. Despite the bonds of love and blood, people are still individuals with their own set of scruples, values, and mores.

As for me, I value serenity and harmony. I long for peaceful communion. I think the highest and best calling for anyone is to put those you love ahead of one’s own self. And in as much as selfishness is human nature to some degree, the effort we as people extend to putting that aside in favor of service and edification shows our true character.

Our blogs have been semi silent on the topic of Fix and some of the issues our family is trying to overcome. For the most part I have not written about this subject because I either didn’t have anything to offer, or I couldn’t put any type of positive spin on the situation. Yesterday afternoon he (Fix) walked into my room and asked why it was we (meaning the other three of us) never blog about him. He seemed to feel that all our blogs left him out.

I am probably one of the most non-confrontational persons you’ll ever meet. Confrontation is in direct opposition to my need for calm. For me, the long term negative energies cultivated in attempting to resolve any chronic challenge usually far outweigh the heat of the moment. But at some point, my need for calm is overwhelmed by attack, and my fight or flight response flairs. I call this my switch; it’s the point in which I go from flight to fight. I have rarely hit this switch in my near forty years, but once I flip, I find it hard to go back to the place where my calm resolve is first instinct. This is now the case with me and Fix.

I love Fix very much. He touches places in me untouched by any other. He is one third of my Eros heart. Unfortunately, he also has a lot of past baggage, he has some distorted views on propriety, and he has some very inappropriate ways of expressing his displeasure. As someone I love, he has a protected place in my life. In the same way I do not go about spitefully slandering those I care for, I have been withholding blogs and dealings with him that I felt would cast an unsavory shadow upon his image.

However, so as not to be negligent in that which is asked of me, (“How can you talk only of others and not ever mention me?”) I will endeavor to share with dear readers that which is merely my opinions and feelings concerning Fix, his issues, and our life together.

As long as I’ve known Temptress, I have known of Fix through her. I fell in love with him through her eyes. I saw in him the man she loved. Not until she and I began discussing a quad scenario did I have direct dealings with him in any way.

From the beginning, he had a kind and thoughtful approach that warmed me. His eyes transfix me and could see into my soul things that I never realized. He can be a most tender, yet passionate lover, many times leaving me breathless and spent after our intimate time together. His ability to repair and maintain amazed me, and both Temptress and Big used to tease me about how excited I could become as we sat around dinner hearing him regale us about pipe fusion and conduit systems. The way he would attend to the details of our home made me feel secure and safe.

These positive behaviors extended well past his breakdown in January of 2006. After a week long stay in a local mental health facility, he was diagnosed with severe depression triggered by both long term and short term Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). During the early months of his subsequent therapy, medication adjustments, and behavioral inconsistencies he still maintained his ability to control that “monster within” as he called it. He wrote in his journal daily, he carefully followed doctor’s orders and therapist recommendations. We saw in him a genuine desire to explore the depths of those past issues that haunted him, and we did everything in our power to make life as easy and stress free for him as possible.

Within six months time, he’d changed jobs twice, changed therapists twice, changed medications twice, and no longer wrote in his journal or read his affirmations. Nothing made him happy; no one could do right by him. Temptress was the most frequent target of his cyclic tirades, and we began understanding that his unpredictable and volatile behavior made a most erratic and unpleasant home life. It was up to the three other adults to “cover” the children and shield them as much as possible from his stormy mood swings. Only occasionally did we see glimpses of the man he once was, and that which he claimed he could never recover.

That was over a year ago, and I can say we’ve made only diminutive progress. We have good days and bad days. On a good swing, we can go two, four, or six weeks without so much as a scowl or a cross word, but the longer we go without incident, the more our guard comes down, and the more harsh the cycle feels when it hits. In the words of our therapist we are in the midst of a very “FUBAR” (don’t make me spell that one out) situation that will take “years of counseling to unravel” and make right; as right as possible and it won’t be anywhere near perfection.

The point is we’ve tapped danced around and only alluded to Fix’s issues and the challenges those have created for our family. In our eyes we’ve been trying to protect him from the callousness that can be found when something is discussed in a blog forum. I didn’t want to taint anyone’s opinion of him based on our frustration and hurt feelings. But now I’ve been told he doesn’t want our protection. All he wants is what he “deserves” and what is “rightfully” his. Despite the fact that he hasn’t explained exactly what that is, nor can he tell us what he does want.

He can be a genuinely wonderful guy at times. When all is right in Fix’s world, we laugh together; enjoy watching movies, plan for the future, talk about the children, and what’s going on in the world. There are days I look into his eyes and wonder why I ever doubted the man he is inside.

At other times we get hurtful barbs, glaring stares, and what I refer to as his “exclamation point.” This is when his parting pot shots are accentuated by an action meant to show just how upset he really is at us – the stomping of feet (er, excuse me, “walking hard”), a screeching tire as he drives away, an object hurled in defiance, or the ever popular door slam. He can spend days on end holed up in his room coming out only to take food back to his sanctuary. I feel like he uses our home as a hotel, leaving for work without so much as a goodbye and never knowing what time he’ll return. He says he has neither control over his schedule, nor any options in life. He abdicates any preference he might have, and then complains about how he has no life. He expects he can verbally vomit on us and we’ll go on acting as if everything is as it should be; that no one should feel the unintended emotional strain.

The problem is with every damaging episode, every bad that follows the good, it chips away at our patience. In a home where verbal debates at midnight (or later) can occur without warning, where we never know what might set him off, or how to help him get back on track; we find ourselves feeling like three and one – I am not at all surprised that he feels the same. The difference is he feels we’ve done that TO him. We know he’s done it to himself. What we want is a stable and contributing quad of four; what we sometimes get is a 40 year old male who acts like a floundering pre-adolescent demanding to be treated like an adult.

I don’t think it’s too much to ask for someone, anyone, to treat others with respect. To enter their home in a calm and courteous fashion. To know themselves well enough to communicate their needs and wants in a rational manner. Regardless of one’s personal issues, we can always play nice.

No one wants mental health challenges. No one asks to be born into a dysfunctional family. No one wishes traumatic events upon themselves. And none of us think for a minute he chose these difficulties. But what we do know from being adults ourselves and from our months in therapy is that every day is a new chance, every minute a new choice. Depression causes those choices to look severely limited despite how limitless they really are. I know things are tough for him, everyday. But there are thirteen people in this house that we have to protect. Selfishness is not a disease, it’s a choice. At some point, the good of the many outweigh the needs of the one.

~the laundry goddess, October 22, 2007

Lady’s Night October 15, 2007

In the course of a normal day, I doubt most people give any thought at all to where they will sleep that night. But for the last several months, it’s been on the forefront of discussions between me and my quad mates.

We’ve had a calm 2 day rotation going for the better part of the last year. The spouse got two nights, and the spice got two nights on an alternating schedule. It isn’t the ideal for all of us, but it was the best solution we could come up with that was acceptable to the group at large. Trouble is, four of the dyads were represented with that arrangement, but one was left out.

Temptress and I have always been relatively demure about our relationship. We’re great friends, yes. We’re fabulous co-Mommies, yes. But the private romantic aspect of our togetherness has been our special connection, something sacrosanct that we neither flaunted nor advertised. We spend time together most days by minding home and children, neglecting to spend that solitary bonding time that supports the foundation of any love.

Most any intimate alone time she and I have ever gotten, has been by chance or happenstance (“HEY!! We have an hour alone.”) Only on rare occasions have we had planned and awaited quality time, until recently. After nearly 20 months under the same roof together, we lobbied for, and were gifted, a once-a-month overnight together in our wonderful room – just the two of us.

Before I go further, let me brag a bit about “our room.” When we found this house and walked its floors the first time, Temptress and I were delighted to discover the master bathroom had two walk-in closets. I’m assuming based on the configurations, they would have been considered his/hers, but knowing we could make do with much less closet space, she and I put into action a plan to have some devoted space of our own. It was only fair – each of the men had their own rooms which they “shared” with the wives, but with a 2 on- 2 off rotation, neither of us could actually lay claim to either of the master bedrooms as our own.

Temptress and I dismantled the closet system, painted the walls, and moved in all of our special treasures. It is a cozy space just big enough for a bookcase, a trunk, a small alter, a broomstick in the corner, and a queen sized mattress which rests on the floor. We hung a canopy from the ceiling, our favorite prints on the walls, and my collection of hand blown witch balls from the tiny window. All of our more personal reading materials are in there, as are sentimental items belonging to our beloved ancestors. We burn candles and incense, and play meditation and nature-scape instrumentals. All those things we had to hear the men complain about for years occupying “their” space, or getting in “their” way as they walked past, now have a home in a cherished and sacred place that T and I refer to as “The Mediation Room.”

We have very strict rules about that space – only she and I are allowed in there. Because of its placement, only a couple of the children even know it exists. And the men come to the door, but do not cross its threshold. Honestly, I’m not sure they could actually stand up straight in there without bumping their heads, but that is not why they stay away. Despite their initial objection to our request that only our two energies reside there, I think they have come to a place of understanding, if not tolerance, of our need for private intimacy and communion. That room has become our safe haven, our place of rest, and of peace.

So after all these months together, Temptress and I not only have a dedicated space to be, but a dedicated time to be there. I think somehow the “you don’t miss what you don’t have” analogy must have applied here, because after only two months of our once-a-month sharing, I suddenly was no longer interested in being “granted” anything. This time I merely stated, “I want once a week.” There was no lobbying, no asking, and no pleading. I had no intentions of making deals or hoping for anyone else’s permission. The only discussion to be had was which particular night was best for everyone.

I can imagine that looks a little selfish by some standards, but it wasn’t the demands of a petulant child. Temptress and I have a relationship within the boundaries of our existing quad, and that relationship deserves some quality time other than Mommy Duty. I simply came to a place where I was comfortable stating that I needed exclusive time with her, and that at the convenience of the other family members, we would be sleeping elsewhere one night a week. I feel that is a totally reasonable desire.

In a perfect world, there would be no backlash for sensible requests. But this is not Vulcan and we are not totally logical creatures. All manner of emotions and insecurities can pop up, even when we don’t want them to; especially in the world of polyamory. So the questions remain: When the needs of two (or three or four) people diverge, who gets the high road, who takes the low road? How do we as people who claim to love and respect one another come to a place of compromise and mutual understanding? And under what conditions is it fully acceptable to put one person’s “must haves” ahead of another’s “can’t handle?”

I’m certain there is no right and wrong across the board. This situation, like everything else in partnerships, must be continually revised until concession is reached. Unless everyone is happy or at the very least bearable of the outcome, we are still working within a win/loose model. Honestly, does anyone really win in those situations? There is no victory when the battle becomes bloody. And any prize won really isn’t a gift at all.

I don’t want to be the person that “wants what she wants” at the expense of someone’s inner child. Nor do I want to be the person constantly resentful that basic needs are allowed to go unmet. So somewhere on the continuum of differing Utopias we need a reality check.

I’m wondering if anyone knows the secret formula for compersion. I’d love to be able to hand it out when people are hurting. When I feel good about where I am and whom I’m with, it’d be nice if I felt like I didn’t have to slay any dragons to get there. But like the princess in the tower, when I fall asleep in the arms of my Temptress, I always have sweet dreams.

~ the laundry goddess, October 15, 2007