Six months later.

It’s been five months since my last post. It’s been six months since I had to make the choice between my partner and polyamory, because he decided he couldn’t be with me anymore if we weren’t monogamous. I chose to stay with him and commit to a life with him as my only partner.

Looking back at that tumultuous turning point last year, and reading my own words about what I went through, a lot of feelings come up. I feel naïve, in some ways. I feel frustrated with what I put up with from Romeo during that time. I feel sad about what I lost, and angry about how I was treated.

And yet, I am still with Romeo. In the six months since that decision, things have not been as tumultuous—but they have often still been quite hard. I have considered and reconsidered leaving so many times that it’s honestly alarming. But I’m still here. 

Frankly, I’m now cemented into this relationship much more than I was last year. Back then, we had ten months of history together, in which we had just begun to build our blended family and our life together as a couple. We were living together, yes, but our lease was shorter and felt more temporary. We had relationships with each other’s children, yes, but nothing that felt impossible to lose. Leaving then would have been difficult and painful, but so much less messy than now. 

Now, I’m pregnant with Romeo’s child, and we’re engaged. We signed a new lease together that ties us here until the end of 2023. We have an expensive minivan, six cats, and a puppy together. We share finances. My relationship with Romeo’s daughter is very important to me, and his relationships with my children are continuing to become stronger as well. Leaving now feels equivalent to getting divorced—and I’m not even officially finished with my first divorce! But unlike my actual divorce, leaving my relationship with Romeo would be messy and traumatic.

So instead of leaving, I find myself staying. I try to focus on my future with Romeo, and our life together. I try to focus on the positive. There are a lot of positives!

As a family unit, we work well together. We help co-parent each other’s children and manage to keep our home running. We love each other, enjoy spending almost all of our time together, and at the end of the day, we go to bed happy together every single night. We are excited to bring our child into the world later this year and raise him together. We are excited to get married and make what we already feel and act like into a legal reality. Our future together is a happy one, I really do believe that. 

The thing that keeps me up at night—figuratively, that is (being pregnant, I’m usually quite tired by bedtime and sleep very soundly most nights)—is wondering if other futures could be happier for me. The “what ifs” can be hard to silence, especially when I’m frustrated with relationship troubles, both big and small (but mostly small). 

At the times when I don’t feel like I’m being respected as an equal partner, or defended as a true partner should be… I wonder. At the times when I don’t feel like I’m on the same team as my partner, as much as managing a big project with an unmotivated assistant… I wonder. At the times when I’m just plain tired of picking up after my partner, or being the only one to regularly stay on top of the household chores… I wonder. At the times when I can’t make plans with a friend of the opposite sex without fear of a jealous tantrum… I wonder. Basically, there are plenty of times for me to wonder, and wondering just isn’t that much fun. I’d much rather look ahead with confidence and clarity than wonder. 

But, I think that part of me will always have to wonder. Because I gave up a part of myself, and that part is still alive out there somewhere. Being poly wasn’t a phase or an experiment for me—it was a discovery of a facet of myself. It was thrilling and invigorating and felt so right for me. But I didn’t have nearly enough time to explore it and live it before I lost it. And so, there will always be the “what ifs.” There will always be something there, unfinished. 

Because I gave up something very important to me for the sake of my relationship, and because that choice was forced as an ultimatum, there is an added element in our relationship of weighing the costs and benefits. Romeo made cost-benefit-analyses necessary, at a time when I hadn’t even considered the need for such an approach to relationships. 

Because I was left, after being promised forever, and then taken back and left again repeatedly, there is an added element of insecurity in our relationship. Romeo made leaving an option, at a time when I didn’t see it as one. And even though now I feel confident in his commitment to me, I can’t help but question my own commitment at times. After all, I’ve been shown that leaving is an option, and the truth is that I’ve left better. 

Because I’ve been hurt so badly in this relationship, so many times, there is an added element of distrust and self-protection that I employ for my own emotional safety in our relationship. Romeo made those walls necessary, at a time when I finally was learning how to truly feel again. 

Because of countless broken promises and empty apologies, there is an added element of low expectations and accepted defeat in our relationship. Romeo made that acceptance necessary, when before I always tried to see the best in everyone, and I believed that people who loved me meant what they said to me.

These elements are ugly, and hard to make into anything positive. (This blog post is much the same. I have tried not to make it sound so terrible and unhappy but alas, I fear I have failed.)

My doubts and grief and analyses and self-protection and distrust and defeated-ness and cynicism all run deep. These are elements in my relationship with Romeo that I fear I will never be able to shake. How can we ever build something better over such a fucked up foundation? Especially when, if I’m honest, trash is still being added to the pile on a semi-regular basis?

And yet, I am trying my best. I am trying to see a different narrative. I am trying to be positive, to let go of the past, to allow the little things to be little and not yet another straw to break this camel’s back. I am trying to find other things than Romeo to talk about in therapy. I am trying to stop doubting and embrace more confidently my future with Romeo. I am trying. 

Being a poly girl living a mono life is one factor to my struggle, certainly. But giving up a poly life for such a deeply imperfect monogamous one—I think that is the bigger struggle. No relationship or life is perfect. But I know that there are many levels between perfect and where I live, and I can’t help but feel that for the price I paid, I should’ve gotten more. I should be treated better. I should feel more treasured. I should be happier. 

And I am happy, some days. For the other days… well, I’m trying.