How to not die when practicing poly
Is ethical non-monogamy the answer to your relationship problems?
Welcome to your monthly dose of 1-800-DREAMBOAT, my juicy gay advice column. Eclipse season is behind us, Scorpio season is upon us, and if you are not okay, I want you to know that you are not alone in feeling that way. If you aren’t dysregulated right now, then you probably aren’t paying attention.
My advice? As the days get darker and the winter sets in, look after yourself like you would a lover. Tend to your muscles—stretch, massage. Cook your favorite meal. Write a postcard to a friend. Ask yourself what is getting in the way of you living the life you dream about, and then make a plan to do those things. Remember: showing up for ourselves is the prerequisite to showing up for literally anyone else. Life is short and precious and so nerve-rackingly fragile, as we are all being collectively reminded of right now, so it’s imperative to practice gratitude for what you have and do everything in your power to take care of yourself each day you are here.
As someone who only recently learned how to take care of myself, I had to practice to get good at it. Hot baths, solo walks, and this album helped me. I want to invite you to throw on Jenny Hval’s album, The Practice of Love, in the background as we move through this newsletter together. She is the Norweigan post-punk pop philosopher you didn’t know you needed. If it’s cold, make yourself a cup of tea. If it’s warmer, crack open a bubbly water. Given the energetic astrological cocktail in the sky, now felt like a perfect time to talk about one of the great forces to be reckoned with in the queer community: poly.
🍵 HELP! MY PARTNER IS HAVING SEX WITH SOMEONE ELSE. HOW DO I SURVIVE THIS?
I’m not a therapist or a mental health professional. I am an artist, writer, and trans masculine sage with a penchant for supporting others to live the life they dream about. I try to answer these questions with a critical eye, from my heart of hearts, with a fierce passion for community, accountability, and love. Take what you like, leave the rest, and (as always) feel free to talk about it in the comments. Let’s go!
💌 Dear Dreamboat,
I am currently in a polyamorous dynamic that is triggering in many aspects due to my colourful trauma history, some of which I accrued within this relationship in years prior. I'm really struggling with how this is affecting how I see and feel about myself sexually, I'm feeling really ashamed of my struggles to communicate my needs and express desires. Also, I'm feeling like anything sexual my metamour is into is no longer "mine" and feeling increasingly divorced from desire in general, as nothing feels sacred in my relationship (with my partner) anymore.
This is causing a shame spiral, intrusive thoughts, and sex aversion, as well as resentment towards my partner. I have set boundaries with my partner and no longer hear about my metamour in any depth, but the feelings keep getting worse despite this and my partner's offers of support and love. Is there a way I can reclaim the feeling of my desires being "mine?” Is there something I can do to break down the codependency I think is at the root of this?
Signed,
Blazed & Confused
Dear Blazed & Confused,
“I wanted to write to you about love. I hate ‘love’ in my own language. It contains the entire word ‘honesty’ inside it.” -Vivian Wang
Thank you for gifting me with this question. I wanted to start off with this quote from the aforementioned album because it breaks my heart wide open. Love does contain the entire word honesty inside it, and here you are being relentless in your honesty both with yourself and with your partner. I can’t think of anything more loving than being able to sit in and name your truth in a moment of deep discomfort, like the one you are currently in. So let’s start this conversation from this place of love, honesty, and compassion for what you are going through because it is really fucking hard. Trust me, I’ve been there.
When I was in my last polyamorous relationship, I legitimately thought I was going to die of jealousy. It felt like I was entering into a state of psychosis anytime my partner went on a date with someone else where I’d lose touch with any sense of reality outside of the read receipts on my phone, checking every phantom vibration, just waiting to get a text that would signal to me that the worst was over.
I simultaneously wanted to relive every single detail of what happened (god forbid something happened and I not know about it!) while also deeply regretting hearing anything and never wanting to know anything ever again. I felt increasingly out of my comfort zone, multiple times a day, and didn’t know what I could do to make it not feel this way. Like you, my triggered feelings in this dynamic were likely exacerbated by not ever really feeling safe or secure in this relationship prior to opening up. So trust me when I say that I’ve been there.
At the time, I don’t think I truly understood the definition of the word codependency. My ex and I wanted to formally open up our relationship because things between us felt codependent. And by codependent, I mean we were binge-watching shows and not having regular sex. I thought that codependency meant spending all your time together and figured it would go away when we started sleeping with other people? I didn’t realize that poly would exacerbate it.
It sounds like you are starting to ask yourself that deeper question: what is actually going on here underneath all my fear and shame and feelings of worthlessness? You mentioned codependency, which is a great place to start. Codependency is best understood as a lack of differentiation between ourselves and others. It is what happens when someone else’s action, behavior, mood, or feeling has the power to completely knock us off our center of gravity. Codependency is the feeling that life is happening to us, that we are disempowered, and that we don’t have any other options.
I guess my first question is what do you like about polyamory? Be honest. Make a list if that’s helpful. Once you look at your list, you will have a much better idea of what you are looking to get out of poly and whether this dynamic is serving you. I know, for me, I like hooking up with other people. I like the feeling of aliveness that I feel with a new crush, like finding a desire line back to myself. Esther Perel puts it like this:
Sometimes when we seek the gaze of another, it isn’t our partner we are turning away from, but the person we’ve become. We are not looking for another lover, so much as another version of ourselves.
I have come to appreciate the way that polyamory has forced me to grow. Notice I didn’t say like. There are so many things that I didn’t know about myself that I learned through practicing non-monogamy. So much of what triggers me in poly already exists inside me. It’s like a study of how I relate to myself. What are my most self-sabotaging habits? What do the darkest voices in my head say when they tell me I am unlovable? What tone of voice am I talking to myself in? What does that say about the core beliefs I have about who I am and what I deserve? What am I most afraid of?
I know that some of my most extreme fears when practicing poly weren’t even about the relationship I was in. I was afraid of being rejected (like we all are), but this came from a place of not understanding how anyone would want to be with me. In high school, I fell into that terrible trap of being experimented on and used by straight or bisexual femmes until I always ended up losing out to the cis boys. As a result, I was terrifically jealous of cis men in my adult relationships but also jealous of any masc-of-center person somehow providing something to my partner that I could not. I took this as further proof of my inadequacy.
So I want you to ask yourself what are you most afraid of, and why? Grab your journal and spend a few minutes writing down the answers. What is the worst thing that could happen? No really. Play out that thought-movie until the end of the plot line when the credits roll. I’d imagine it would end with you being broken up with, left, abandoned, or otherwise rejected. What if I told you that you would still be okay, even if all of that came true?
This is one of my favorite pages from Melody Beattie’s Codependent No More (leave me alone, I’m old school). As you can see, I’ve dog-eared and highlighted the shit out of this one.
This section feels like it gets underneath the question you asked. At the root of codependency is the fear that we are unworthy of love and putting the question of whether we are lovable in someone else’s hands. It sounds to me like your sense of self-worth is in your partner’s (and their partner’s) hands. The things that make you special, valuable, charming, sexy, a good lover, and great in bed still belong to you. The fact that your metamour is into some of the same kinky shit that you are says more about the type of people your partner is attracted to than it does about you.
Nobody gets to own a sex act or a kink. Even if someone else does the exact same things that you do in bed, nobody does it quite like you! You were a sexual person with your own wants, needs, and desires before this relationship, and you still will be if this relationship ever ends. Your desires will always be yours. Nothing can be taken away from you that a part of you is not willingly giving away.
When we are in a long-term relationship, it’s easy to outsource our feelings of self-worth and emotional regulation to our partners. They become our home base in many ways, but then it’s like … give me compliments! Tell me you want me! Unconditional love please! Be responsible for my emotions! Find me sexy even when I don’t find myself sexy! And your partner can offer you all the love and support in the world, but if it isn’t getting in maybe that’s because you don’t want it to. Maybe there is a part of you that doesn’t think you are worthy of receiving it or that they don’t mean it, I don’t know.
But you have to rediscover all the things that make you sexy and big and alluring. You have to be your own primary partner. I know that it’s hard to conjure up those feelings when you already feel like shit, but you have to champion and back yourself here. Sometimes you just have to think those things, say them, and try to embody them enough times (even if you don’t quite believe them yet), and then they come true.
I also want you to know you can opt out of poly at any time. Polyamory isn’t for everyone, no matter what the radical queer community tells you. Or maybe polyamory is right for you, but it isn’t right for you right now and that’s okay. It can be difficult to heal from our trauma while we are currently being re-traumatized or triggered constantly. Relationships can be hard work, but they don’t have to be that hard.
It’s also okay to feel like you are going to die. Sometimes poly be like that. If you haven’t read Clementine Morgan’s zines Love Without Emergency Pt. 1 and Pt. 2, I highly recommend getting your hands on them.1 If you’ve also ever been interested in twelve-step programs, CoDA is an amazing recovery resource.
The antidote to codependency is to try and stop controlling others and learn how to take care of ourselves. There are always going to be things that are out of your control in life, but you don’t have to be a victim of circumstance. Your job is to recognize what you can control and what you can’t. Be responsible and accountable for your half, including what you say yes to, what you say no to, and what you stick around for. Your job is to figure out what the good growing pains are in this dynamic and what simply hurts too much.
I’m someone who spent a large chunk (27 years) of my life taking care of, worrying about, and throwing myself in front of moving traffic for other people. Safe to say that taking care of myself didn’t come naturally to me. I didn’t know what I wanted half the time, let alone how to ask for it. I had to start learning how to ask for what I needed and then what to do when those needs weren’t being met. I had to make an active decision not to stay trapped in that cycle where I offloaded the responsibility of caring for myself onto others and then blamed them when they treated me the way I allowed them to. That pattern felt bad but also familiar and then borderline good in that whole this is what I deserve type of way. I had to believe that I was worthy of being taken care of.
I didn’t realize that the way I treated myself was giving other people the blueprint for how I expected them to treat me. This feels deeply linked to shame for me. Shame is corrosive. You are already going through enough here, to shame and blame yourself for your inability to be perfect during this imperfect process is too much. No double arrows, please. Talk to yourself and tend to yourself the way you would a lover. Be the person you love.
If you have questions for next time, please submit them here. Can’t wait to answer.
And before you cancel me for mentioning Clementine Morgan’s work, yes I know the drama, but these zines are honestly fire and lay the groundwork for a lot of what Jessica Fern’s books Polysecure and Polywise take even further. If you haven’t read those either, add them to the list.
WOW I really needed to read this, thank you. Your words always soothe in all the right places. I just had to break up a relationship with someone I love who is polyamorous because my nervous system reactions to jealousy were just unbearable. Yet I still want to give poly a try and your article really helped me validate how I feel - the ambivalence (madness?) of wanting something that I also find extremely triggering. I will defo check the zines you mentioned! Love from the other side of the ocean <3
Where can I find Love Without Emergency?