It’s been a few months since the last time I posted an article on my blog. There were a few moments when I really wanted to take it up, finally sit back at the PC and share a story worth telling or an exciting thought from my polyamorous everyday life with you. And yet I have not made it. 2.5 years ago I started my blog, since then a lot has changed. In the beginning I was inspired by the idea that there are people there whom I can offer support, to those who are or were similarly feeling. Who can understand how I feel, who can get something out of it. I was glad when I noticed that there are people who follow me, who write me or ask me for advice. I like the exchange, I like going to other cities, getting to know poly-communities, learning from them and enriching each other.
But all this has also frightened me in recent months.
I don’t know why, but suddenly I felt a fear of sharing anything at all. I only wanted to share thoughts that were really, really important. All my ideas suddenly felt unimportant, irrelevant and super banal. I had the feeling that nobody was following me anymore and at the same time the whole world was looking at me and turning every single word around twice. Correcting my comma position, laughing at my lousy German (which is a difficult subject for me anyway, because it still triggers me and I feel like I’m back in my first years in Germany, where people often made fun of my bad German) or wondering what I’m actually doing. I am aware that I don’t care what you think of me out there, most of the time I write for myself and I am happy when other people can take pleasure in it.
And yet my blog and my occupation as a workshop facilitator were too much for me. To be honest, I almost didn’t talk about polyamority anymore, except in workshops or small meet-ups, but the rest of the time I was busy finding an apartment in Berlin. This really exhausting and all-demanding search made me think about family concepts over and over again. To be honest, I was disillusioned. I think I just spent too much time in my queer/feminist bubble and didn’t realize that the heteronormative small family consisting of cis-man, cis-woman and 1-3 children is still very popular. Everywhere “family apartment” or “ideal for families” or “no shared flats” screamed at me. But what I understand by family is not meant here. Again and again I had to deal with the fact that the form and way in which I would like to live is systematically excluded. For so many people it still seems incomprehensible, almost absurd, that I want to have children with more than one person and not live in a small family constellation. That robbed me of an infinite amount of strength. There was no more room for new adventures or exciting thoughts. I felt exhausted.
An hour ago I was lying there. I had put myself to bed with my laptop to watch a series, and the first thing that caught my eye was my tattoo. It symbolizes a lot, but mainly the last two years of therapy. It ended a few weeks ago and I still have to remember not to go there, the regularity is still deeply embodied in me. I suddenly had to laugh because I’ve been struggling with myself for days whether or not I’m finally publishing a blog entry again. The tattoo reminded me in a way, because it stands for change, new beginnings, rewiring thoughts and habits. I had to laugh because I remembered again that there is no topic that is unimportant. In my therapy I wrestled again and again with myself as to whether this or that was relevant, whether I should tell it or not. There was a lot about me trying to filter things, I tried to talk only about the really important things.
I just noticed that I should be writing exactly about this.
I don’t have to try to act as if I were made of stainless steel, as if nothing would ever touch me and as if I constantly come up with new, exciting and noteworthy thoughts.
Sometimes other questions in life are more important, more present and more intrusive. But especially in the last months I have been all the happier about having two wonderful relationships with people who obviously care about me. It was the little things like cooking food, getting me some cookies, getting a cosy bathtub, being hugged or crying in their arms that showed me once again how incredibly happy (and privileged in a way) I am to get so many resources and so much support because I have two relationships. Polyamory is a part of my life every day, sometimes more present and sometimes less present. If I don’t forget to remind myself that every thought is worth thinking about and that I can write down on my blog any boring and perhaps unspectacular idea, you’ll probably hear from me again more often 😉