Your Daily Polyamory Blog for Navigating Life, Relationships, and More
“You got your creativity from me,” my mother says. “Your father was good at many things, but he didn’t have a creative bone in his body.”
My father passed away in April. He was an inventor, a construction engineer. A brilliant blue collar man. He wasn’t a very talkative person — unless you got him going about something he was passionate about — » Read more
It hit me a few weeks ago when I was looking at the prayer cards from my father’s funeral.
When my father died, he stopped being a man. And he started being a historical figure.
It was a silly joke at first. Because the prayer cards had his birth and death dates on it. » Read more
“So when are you going to have kids?” “You should really get started on that.”
I can’t tell you how many times I heard that from people. Especially my own mother.
I suppose it made sense, since having four kids was a big part of her identity. A peak experience. And if pressed, » Read more
Someone close to you has died.
No, they are not alive somewhere else.
No, they are not coming back.
No, it doesn’t make any fucking sense.
No, they are not in the next room reading a book or doing the dishes.
No matter how much you want to believe they are coming back, » Read more
Ever since my father passed away in April, I’ve been talking to my mother a lot more. We haven’t had the best relationship, my mother and I. It’s long and complicated. Mostly, she’s wanted to be close to me, although she doesn’t actually like me as a person (and I don’t much like her). » Read more
I woke up cheerful this morning.
Normally, this wouldn’t be big news. In general, I have a very positive disposition.
I do get grumpy. I do get sad. Things can and do annoy me.
Part of being a resilient person involves acknowledging reality. And anyone who has any sort of meaningful, » Read more
“If you want people to like you,” my mother said. “Be quiet and smile.”
“People love a mystery,” she advised. “And when they don’t know who you are, they fill in the gaps with good stuff.”
That was her advice to me. And for her, it certainly worked. She was a cheerleader in high school. » Read more
I’m sitting in a pew, attending mass at the church I attended growing up.
It’s been 7 years since I went to a service here, on another visit to my hometown, but surprisingly little has changed since then.
Actually, surprisingly little has changed from 30 years ago, when I was a small child doing my best to remain quiet and tolerate the unending boredom, » Read more
I look at my phone. Sigh involuntarily. Because it’s one of those series of texts.
I miss you, she says. Everyone else bores me.
She proceeds to insult or tear down every other person in her life, pointing out what she perceives to be their flaws. » Read more
Sometimes people are surprised to learn that I grew up in a rural area in a highly religious family with very traditional conservative ideas of what gender roles should be.
But for me, it’s always there somewhere in my psyche.
Even as I grew up, moved away, and found a social group with different ideas about sex, » Read more
