The Unbecoming

Strength and honour my friend. Those 8 drams took 15 years to make, imagine how sweet your life will be in 15 years. In the making of that scotch parts of it were burned, chopped, boiled, and pressured and each stage gave it its character and appeal. Just like the scotch, life is better with character. Win or lose, never ever stop fighting.

- rhinoponomous

 On a whim, I bought a new 'house dress'. 

This quote has been bouncing around in my head as of late. I've always wanted to turn it into a fancy cross stitch.

[blockqote]Strength and honour my friend. Those 8 drams took 15 years to make, imagine how sweet your life will be in 15 years. In the making of that scotch parts of it were burned, chopped, boiled, and pressured and each stage gave its character and its appeal. Just like the scotch, life is better with character. Win or lose, never ever stop fighting.

- an old friend[/blockquote]

Within the polyamory and non-monogamy community, there has been a lot of discussion and advice on jealousy. Over the years I've seen mindsets move from the belief that a 'good' non-monogamous person would never feel jealous to understanding and accepting that it is a natural emotional response that can be worked through with the proper techniques. What I haven't seen in all these books, articles, and debates is any discussion on territoriality.

What is territoriality?
When we think of territoriality, if we think of it at all, we probably envision a predator patrolling its hunting grounds or how a dog barks at a stranger approaching a yard. Maybe you thought of territorial disputes between nation-states or how gangs tag buildings with graffiti to mark their turf.

In behavioral psychology, Territoriality is described as “a pattern of attitudes and behavior held by a person or group that is based on perceived, attempted, or actual control of a physical space, object, or idea, which may involve habitual occupation, defense, personalization, and marking of the territory.” *

All of the previous examples I listed illustrate competitive territoriality, defensive measures that guard against unwanted encroachments of owned space. However, territoriality also functions to create a sense of security and cohesion for an individual or within groups. This type of spatial organization allows us to freely maneuver through shared spaces while minimizing disputes.
For instance, a coat draped over a chair as we search for a seat signals 'This chair is taken' and allows us to avoid the possibility of rumbled feathers when someone returns from the bathroom to discover their seat taken.

Irwin Altman*, a social psychologist, described three divisions of territory: primary, secondary and public. Primary territories are exclusively ours and under our control, such as our bedroom or home. Secondary territories are shared spaces that don’t exclusively belong to us, but we may begin developing a sense of ownership and assume they will be available to us when needed, such as a favorite barstool, restaurant, or seat in class. Public territory refers to space that is not owned by the individual but is open to all, such as parks, malls or sidewalks.

Establishing ownership of personal space, such as a bedroom, allows us to feel safe enough to relax and be ourselves. Personalizing a space that is truly ours helps us define ourselves and organize our life and activities. Think of your home, room, or favorite personal space. What have you done to create a sense of personal ownership? How would you feel if it was changed or rearranged without your permission?

One example of navigating this personal territory would be a married couple who share a bedroom deciding that, while they are supportive of their spouse having sex with other people, they are not comfortable with it happening in their shared bed. Designating their bedroom as ‘just for us’ allows them to remain in control of a small space and curtains the possibility of any feelings of invasion or contamination.

Understanding cultural queues and territory markers also minimizes confusion within social situations and can create a sense of belonging and harmony within a shared environment. For instance, when sitting down at the family dinner table everyone knows their typical configuration. When we envision the standardized picture of a nuclear family we probably place the father at the head of the table, mother at his right and children arranged by age in their subsequent seats. There’s a comfortable order. Everyone has a place and they know their place.
But where should we put the mother’s boyfriend? Or the father’s? Where do they sit when they come to dinner? What about when a triad piles into a car to go out? Who gets to sit in the back seat alone?

The simple answer is, as with most personal things, there is no right or wrong answer here. It’s something that everyone involved should discuss and come to a comfortable agreement on.
What makes the matter even more complex is that, not only will each person have their own unique preference on the matter, their need to adhere to an established territory can further fluctuate depending on how they are feeling in the moment. For instance, someone who has had a particularly emotional day or is feeling insecure about their position may need to have their space honored more to help bolster their sense of security and safety. And introducing a new lover into a dynamic is definitely a time for insecurities to arise. For the most part over the years I’ve learned to just take a step back and let the new lovers enjoy their NRE. But this can be difficult for people who are new to the process or have considerably more shared space to maneuver through.

What I have seen throughout the years is that most people are unaware that these microcosms exist at all and are confused about what they should have a right to maintain control of, even within their own house. They try to be understanding and accommodating until someone unintentionally trips over one and it all comes to a head.

In behavioral psychology, there is a phenomenon known as the Unassigned Assigned Seat. In your day-to-day life as you go to work, school, or sit down to eat dinner over time we find ourselves choosing the same seat again and again. And we’ve similarly experienced the sudden righteous indignation when we walk in to find someone else sitting in our unassigned assigned seat. The fascinating thing about the seat phenomena is that not only as our familiarity grows we can begin to feel a sense of ownership without ever making the mental choice or having a valid claim to that ownership, but it can also happen fast. In a study by Gilles Clement of Lyon Neuroscience Research Center and Angie Bukley of International Space University they found that students start settling into their preferred seats starting from the second day of class, and after just one month over half the students were sitting in the same seat every time.

How might this play out in a non-monogamous relationship?
When John and Jill first started dating they smoothly settled into a routine of going on a date most Thursday nights. Both of them were comfortable with seeing each other once a week and due to Jill’s schedule, Thursday’s was the most convenient. After a couple of months, Jill scheduled a date with a girl she’d been interested in for an upcoming Thursday. While John was supportive of her going on the date, he felt hurt and upset when he found out that she'd scheduled the date on ‘his’ night.

The scenario works regardless if you switch out the day of the week with a favorite restaurant, activity, or pet name. Over time, all of these things can come to embody a sense of familiarity or belonging within a relationship. Unfortunately, since we don’t have many if any positive societal scripts on how to navigate numerous romantic relationships we can find ourselves defaulting to established dyadic paradigms even when our intent is anything but. Below is an example of one such situation I found myself in a couple of years ago.

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Unassigned Assigned Beds

When I first decided to move in with Praxx we had a long discussion about what our living situation would look like. Being non-monogamous there were two main options we looked at for sleeping arrangements. The first option was that he and I share a room and use a spare bedroom for other lovers. The second was that we’d each have a bedroom to craft into our own personal space. After considering the options I decided firmly that I needed a room that was entirely my own.

Less than a year out of a controlling relationship I was still recovering from many aspects of my marriage and subsequent divorce. After having experienced numerous encroachments on my personal space from my previous partner I had no desire to work to navigate or negotiate my private space. I would need complete control of my personal area in order to feel comfortable living with a partner again. Praxx was more than comfortable going with the second option, firmly believing everyone should have a space to call their own.

For my part, I delighted in creating a space that was entirely my own, something I hadn’t been able to have in well over a decade. Several months in we’d established a nightly routine. Most nights while I had my own room to spend personal time in, I’d head to his for the night. I would plug my phone in on my side of the bed and take my pills that I had begun to keep on the nightstand. Once we were both settled in I’d snuggle up next to him under the covers murmuring into his chest “You’re so warm” as I drifted off to sleep. My habit of muttering this was so often repeated that he began to taunt me about it.
Retiring to his room at night became so commonplace that neither of us would ask and just assumed we’d be sticking to this established routine. His bed was, after all, so much more comfortable than mine.

On nights when Praxx’s other partners stayed over I was more than comfortable heading back to my own room. Unfortunately, he wasn’t used to living with a partner and a couple of times he dropped the ball and forgot to let me know that he had a date coming over. This meant several times I was left dashing to his room to grab my nightly belongings when his lover showed up at our front door!

These situations left me feeling upset and hurt. I tried to figure out the root cause. Sure Praxx could be more mindful about communicating his date nights. But it wasn’t just about the lack of communication, on these nights more than anything I felt displaced. My regular nightly routine would get completely discombobulated. While I wasn’t upset about him having another lover over to the house, I was getting rather upset over the entire rearrangement of where I belonged.

See, we’d established a routine that we were both sleeping and in part living in his room. It was so prevalent that he even joked off and on that it was our room. I remember feeling indignation whenever he’d say it thinking, “If his room was really ours than he’d make sure to ask before inviting a lover to spend the night”. And eventually, I realized that deep down I had started to feel a sense of ownership over his room.

The reality was neither of us had ever lived with a partner in this manner. Nothing in popular movies or our social network gave us a good example of how to navigate cohabitation with a lover that was more like a housemate situation than a shared bed configuration. We’d both only had the two most common mononormative living situations with lovers: our own room that a partner would use when they spent the night or a shared room when living with a partner. So when we attempted this living situation we naturally defaulted to what we’d known - cohabitation in the same room. It was the only script we’d known.

Eventually, I approached Praxx explaining how I was feeling. I felt that while we’d agreed to have separate bedrooms we weren’t living according to that mentality. The ambivalence of who had the right to control certain areas was creating confusion and rumbled feathers. I wanted to try something new, going forward I would be sleeping in my own room. If he wanted me to sleep in his he’d need to ask, and I would do the same. For the first week or two of the new arrangement, I slept in my own room. Even on nights, we curled up to watch a show in his bed, I’d slip out afterward and head to my room.

The adjustment took a bit of getting used to but after that things got significantly better. I found it wasn’t a big deal when he forgot to let me know a meta was spending the night. It didn’t really affect me. I’d settle down in my room comfortable with all my things where I expected them to be none-the-wiser that his personal space had changed to allow for another person.
Additionally, we both realized we’d felt obligated at times in the previous arrangement to spend the night together. We were both pleased to have the freedom to enjoy our personal space and to this day we have remained contented to keep our separate rooms, maintaining sole control of our own personal space.
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I think the issue we experienced above plays out in a million little ways within poly dynamics. The solution to our situation was a simple but opulent one, not everyone has the luxury of living in their own private room and instead would have to meticulously negotiate what is to be considered sacred and what can be shared with others. What the experience did teach me is that without intentionally checking in and making sure we are living in the way we have chosen we may default into habits without our knowing, often propelled by societal scripts.

What are some examples you can think of where you’ve developed a sense of ownership of a place or object? What types of solutions did you come up with?

Have you ever unintentionally tripped over someone else's established personal space? How was the situation handled in the moment. Was the transgression able to be repaired?

Saving for future reference. It's long but by far the most comprehensive look into all the aspects of Solo Poly.

I tend to see the autonomy / agency element of solo poly as being integral to the definition and the other elements as being either expressions of that element or supportive of that element but not necessarily requirements of solo polyamory.
― Jareth, But What Does Solo Poly Even Mean? - A Personal Perspective

This Dec has been hard for me emotionally. I'm coming up on the one year anniversary of getting laid off from ASI, and while this year was a roller coaster of possible new jobs I'm currently working a contract that ends on Dec 28th with no (currently) solid leads on the horizon.
(I'm sure I'll get some. Jan and Feb tend to be a hot bed of activity as the new year's budgets get approved. So I'm hopeful. Ever hopeful.)

This means for the second year in a row Dec has been hard. I've been very fiscally conservative in a month of massive gift giving AND I also got all the ups and downs of putting myself out there on the job market to be summarily ignored over and over again. I'm sure that kinda thing doesn't do much to stoke the holiday spirit for anyone.
My moods have been as one might expect, up and down. I want to thank everyone who's reached out to check in and see how I'm doing. It's meant a lot. Merideth, Casey, and Praxx have done a great job of being supportive, indulging my festive traditions, and trying extra hard to bring the holiday cheer themselves. Especially Praxx, who is normally such a Grinch this time of year.

The other day I was in the car with the kiddo and "Everything's Not Awesome" came on the radio. The kiddo sat and listed to it, then asked me to play it again when it was done. He's been having trouble with his school work and I think the song has a good message, and really got through to him.

I grew up in a house hold that was, simply put, not awesome. But I also grew up with a mother that flat out, could not handle things not being positive. She didn't want to acknowledge being sad, depressed, angry, or any other negative emotion. And THAT might very well be the jump off point of how she ended up with an eating disorder and a goth daughter. It's not healthy to completely suppress and ignore the bad days and feelings. You have to 'lean' into them, as Brené Brown says.

This verse in particular meant a lot to me:

Everything's not awesome
Things can't be awesome all of the time
It's an unrealistic expectation
But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try
To make everything awesome
In a less idealistic kind of way
We should maybe aim for not bad
'Cause not bad, well that would be real great

For me, today's not a good day. I've been struggling with my emotions most of the week. Part of it is PMS. I don't have many symptoms but some times I get just... more emotional. But on top of that I have a friend currently going through a traumatic experience that I went through years ago. It's heartbreaking both to see her struggling with it and to have my own memories pull up all the pain and hurt.

On top of that I posted a really nice piece about Casey on FB - which should have lifted my mood, right? I'd been passively trying to write it since our one year in Oct. And actively trying to write it for the past week or so.
I did it, and I'm proud of myself but there is a bit of a vulnerability hangover from doing it.
I ended up getting on line and reading through some romantic love letter tips website to get a better idea of wording than "I think you’re swell. *finger guns*" which my brain kept defaulting to when I'd try to write. What I found, as I read through them was that just reading that stuff makes me really uncomfortable.

I have spent years clawing my way out of toxic and negative relationship dynamics. And in many ways I'm there. But I never taught myself how to think positively about the amazing things I've helped grow and foster.
That's really sad to realize.
So, next project is probably gonna be about honing my 'gushiness'. Because the people in my life absolutely deserve to be gushed over.

The other day a friend asked the question: What do you look for in others that lets you know they belong close to you?

My initial answer was a growth mindset. I want to be surrounded by people that are open to actively learning throughout their life, however, that's not the main draw for me. It's the acceptance that you have to fail in order to continue to grow. The knowledge that being wrong is an opportunity if handled correctly. This is probably important to me because I am, and will always be, a recovering perfectionist.
There was an additional element to it though, that when I see it in people it immediately captures my attention and respect. I couldn't figure out how to express it other than vaguely 'courage' and I had to get on with my day.

Over the past couple of days, I kept rolling it over in my head and finally came up with: The courage to be intentionally vulnerable.

This isn't the oversharing that happens when someone's desperately distraught and erupts in emotions because they just can't hold it in anymore. Or haphazardly dumping your struggles on a stranger. Rather the ability to extend trust to those that have shown they are receptive and willing to be compassionate with your weaknesses. It's a type of trust that takes time to build, by moments when you intentionally expose the tenderest bits of yourself, knowing that if *this* person doesn't respond well it'll hurt the most because of how much you deeply care about their acceptance.
That process is scary as hell. People do it all the time, some times in big ways and sometimes in small little moments. What's easy for one person could take all the courage in the world for another. It doesn't always go well and it's easy to give up and just not put yourself out there anymore.

It takes a lot of courage to extend trust knowing you risk their disapproval or rejection. And it takes resiliency to get back up and do it again after a letdown.

What makes me feel like a good person, without going into the existential crisis of what even is good, is being able to identify those bids for a deeper connection and be receptive to them.
It's hearing how scared my son is when he tells me he broke something and be compassionate in my response. Being able to express I know telling me was scary but he did it anyway, and that I'm so proud that he chose to practice courage in this situation. Because courage isn't an innate trait, it's a skill that takes practice.

Ironically on topic, as I was mulling this over the other day the kiddo let me know this week, completely unprompted, that he'd goofed off and got some bad grades in school recently. Telling me about low grades was an ongoing issue for him last year. He knew I could see them online but struggled with telling me himself. Because when you're 14 telling your mom about a failing grade is terrifying in a very age-appropriate way.
I told him that telling me helped to build my trust and that I was very proud of him for having the courage to tell me. We talked about why he thought he'd gotten the bad grades and what he could do to recover them.
When we got home we sat down to see what projects needed attention. I started to make a list only to find out that he'd already made a detailed plan of what he needed to be done each night to get caught up by the end of the week.
It's a sizable amount of homework and he's worried he won't have time to enjoy Halloween tomorrow. I've commiserated with him on that and offered to help any way I can so that he can focus on his work.