Sorry if the video is a little choppy in this one. I’m still exploring some settings and hope to have that resolved soon! Also, I changed the title of this entry after I recorded the video.
Years ago, I used to think that my polyamory was evidence that I was “no good on my own.” I would often find myself at home when all my partners (at one point I had three) were away or out of town. I’d rattle around my house and strangely adhere to a narrative that being by myself was a “lonely” experience. After work, I’d make an unhurried dinner for one, put on some music, or just eat in a very soothing silence.
I did miss the conversation, and I did miss my partners. I’d text them and see how they were, but often they’d be in different time zones, or not in service, or just doing their own things. I’d curse the scheduling gods for the cosmic joke of having everyone out of town at the same time. But then, as evening came, I’d either curl up with a favorite film or just read while listening to some classical music, or jazz, or whatever eclectic mix that wasn’t my partners’ individual cups of tea.
I’d go to bed, missing having someone else in bed with me, but then stretch out decadently. I’d send out my goodnight texts, softly set some music on a sleep timer, and drift into what was usually a pretty solid sleep.
I’d wake up the next morning, disoriented that there wasn’t someone next to me. Yet I was able to open the blinds to greet the day, without worrying about waking anyone up. I’d turn on some music and get myself ready, walk the dog, make more noise than usual, sing to myself …
But wait … wasn’t I supposed to be … lonely?
Yes, I missed my partners deeply. But lonely, I was not.
I am an only child. When I was 8 or so, my mother returned to work, and during summer or winter breaks, I was left with a grandparent or a babysitter. But that got inconvenient and (apparently) expensive. So by the age of 9 or 10, when those breaks rolled around, I was home alone from 8am until about 3 or 4pm. While there were days when I definitely felt “lonely,” most of the time I’d get on by bike and basically do the things that you read about GenX-ers doing in all of those memes. I hung out with friends. I went to places I shouldn’t. I did a lot of exploring. At home I’d burn a lot of things (how I didn’t burn down our apartment building I really have no idea).
So, being by myself has never really been an issue. The days when I felt “lonely” were few and far between. Even in college, I had a tight and extensive friend group and was never at a lost for things (or people) to do, or places to go. My university was in the NYC suburbs; there was a free shuttle that ran from campus to Manhattan at regular intervals. Without cell phones or the internet, there were days when I could just “disappear.” I wish I knew then what I know now, so that I could have cherished that feeling a bit more. But while I loved my friends and hanging out with them, I found that my time alone gave me such a boost in energy and peace.
I don’t know where it was along my polyam journey that I lost sight of that boost of energy that occasional solitude gave me. It probably came about around the time that I was in the deepest trenches of the tenure chase, and my polyam relationships began to emotionally deepen. Time became so precious that any time I wasn’t spending with a partner felt like I was somehow failing them or being a bad polyamorist. I had let grind culture seep into my polyamory. I felt that having space to myself and recharging in it was actually somehow betraying my partners, rather than giving my social battery the necessary respite it needed.
It took me several years to realize that I could miss my partners, but simultaneously enjoy some solitude, and that a little recharging went a long way in making me a more attentive, more caring partner.
And it really makes sense. When we are romantically involved with more than one person, it can take a lot of emotional energy to sustain; and this is particularly true when one or more of our partners are themselves going through some emotionally difficult things. Polyam folks know that feeling when it seems like all of our partners are going through separate emotional trials simultaneously, and we find ourselves doing a kind of emotional triage. Add to that mix the weight of not necessarily having enough hours in the day or physical spaces to be able to fully care for everyone at the same time. That can put us through quite the emotional wringer.
That’s why I think it’s so important, as we schedule our time and work with those peculiar polyam logistics, to set aside some time for ourselves; especially when an unexpected gap opens up in the calendar. How we “fill” that time is something that we need to choose wisely, and without guilt or a feeling that it has to be filled. It can just be watching a movie, or going for a walk (see my last post on “filling your cup”). But I do think that we need to see it as a necessity when we’re in multiple romantic relationships. Taking time for ourselves doesn’t just benefit us, it benefits our partners by allowing us to recharge and be as present for them as we can be.
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