Losing a Piece of Him

I am a wreck.

“I don’t want you to be broken,” He says, crying.

Too late for that, I think, I was broken to begin with.

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Polyamory (Poly) (from Greek πολύ poly, “many, several”, and Latin amor, “love“) is the practice of or desire for intimate relationships with more than one partner, with the knowledge of all partners.  It has been described as “consensual, ethical, and responsible non-monogamy.”

I feel numb as I try on my wedding dress, after the alterations. 

Is it all meaningless?, I think.

I feel physically ill, but I smile at the seamstress and say “its perfect.”

The dress does look perfect, that’s true.

But how I feel is less-than-perfect, not-good-enough.

He likes another girl.

True, I agreed to poly, but it’s not what I would choose.

I am not saying you can’t play or sometimes fuck other people.  I am not crazy or unrealistic.

Emotional monogamy, however is another story.

When we fuck, I think, does he touch her like this? Does she like it?  Is she better than me?

I am a wreck.

“I don’t want you to be broken,” He says, crying.

Too late for that, I think, I was broken to begin with.

I am already lost in this world, no job, no prospects, little family.  I have never lived in a city that feels like home.

Anxiety in one area of life bleeds over to the other.

I do not want another person, another guy, to touch me, to play, to fuck, to love me.

All I need is him.

Why am I not enough?

My best friend, Mr. NN says,what are you afraid of losing?”

I say, “I have already lost a piece of him.”

He says, “she’s already married”

I say, “I don’t care.”

He says “If you can’t do poly, that’s a big deal.  It will blow up sooner or later.”

It is blowing up.  It’s blowing up now.

He has negated our love.

He has drained the joy from me.

I vacillate between hate and love.

She thanks for me for letting her be with him.

I say, “You’re welcome” and I think, Like I have a choice in all of this.

I sink deeper into my depression.

He calls.  He says, “you sound better.”

Sure.  I am thinking, what am I even alive for?

I mean, really, what I am doing that’s worthwhile?

Nothing.

I am broken.

It is my fault, I should have broken up with him when I tried to the first time, for this very reason.

This thought creates a hole in my chest so large that I can’t breathe anymore.

I call him and cry, sobbing, he doesn’t answer and I try to leave a message, but I can’t talk.

I think about messaging all the guys I am talking to on OKCupid and say: “I am sorry, but I can’t do this.  This is a lie.”  This would be the real truth.

For the moment, I decide I would rather live in pain (in poly) with him, than without him, which makes me feel better than earlier, with the prospect of losing him entirely.  I would rather lose a piece than the whole of him.

Author: Madison

I am a thirty-eight year-old kinky feminist in recovery from Schizoaffective Disorder, Bipolar type; PTSD/Dissociative Disorder, NOS; Substance Use Disorder, just trying to make it in life. My blog is about my day-to-day misadventures and musings.

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