This wasn’t a unique event, as UC Berkeley is bursting with college students looking for more than a degree in physics, and you’re never really sure when you meet a Kabbalist whether they’re doing it because the little red strings look good with their tan, or because they love that their parents won’t know how to spell it.  In among all the chaos and heat, everyone’s really just looking for answers, but too many think the search should involve high-velocity body checks, with the winners securing most favored nation status in heaven/the next life/Valhalla or wherever it is their guru told them they’ll go if they’re good enough.

From the outside, a lot of people assume that people like me (ie Pagans) seem to believe in stuff that looks a whole hell of a lot like what the people like my aforementioned body-checker (ie Buddhists) seem to believe in.  This is both surprisingly, remarkably true and also completely false.  In one of my favorite grossly oversimplified misrepresentations, I am fond of saying that Pagans seek to embrace all this muddy, chaotic fire we call life, while Buddhists seek to rise beyond it.  This teensy, tiny little point was at the center of me ending up with teeth marks all over my dogma in college, and it’s the reason that I approach this particular spiritual divide with great care.

And the reason that any of this is important is that Theo is very devoutly Buddhist.  This is something like saying that they have brown hair – there’s such a range of possible colors, all that really tells you is that they’re probably not also a Scientologist (although I bet that, if that could happen, it would happen in California.)  It’s no small point that many of my favorite people are Buddhist, which tells me that somewhere inside me there’s a much-smarter part of me who wants to come to peace with the injuries inflicted so many years ago, and I’m certainly trying.

Yesterday Kyle and I turned on the web cams and cried.  We talked and cried.  We played music and cried.  We grieved, and loved, and grieved some more…and cried.  We sat right down into the sticky mud and wallowed in all the sadness we’ve built up over the years over the distance and the difficulty, all the ache and the frustration, all the fears and hopes and wants coursing around us like the ghosts at the end of Indiana Jones when they broke open the Ark.  We broke it open, and all the wet, heavy gods of grief poured out and threatened to drown us.

We embraced it, all of it, and it swallowed us whole.

And then, inexplicably, the sun rose again today and there were tree branches to move and ice skating parties to attend.  There aren’t any last pages in the book of life, so there’s always another day, no matter how hard you might rail against it.  And sometimes, very rarely, you wake up the next day and realize that that’s ok.  The sun *is* going pop up over those mountains, and the world will keep spinning, and kids will keep going on play dates, and lunches will keep needing to be made.  All the grief in the world can’t hold that back, and maybe my therapist is a little right and you have to embrace it fully before you can rise beyond.

Maybe we’re all a little right, and we’ve got each other to fill in the rest.

I know this isn’t the end of grief – a big change is coming that will affect everything, even if nothing really changes – and Kyle and I both have a lot to work and talk and think through.  But the sun’s up today, and it’s time to dig into life.

Kyle’s gonna be getting married.

I’m so happy for him…

and I guess I thought I’d handle it better than I am.

Part of it is jealousy.  More of it is something else.  There’s a whole ball of stuff I can’t write about here because I don’t own it.

There’s grief for what won’t be.  There’s happiness for what will.  There’s guilt for what I have with Theo now.  There’s grief that it’s not Kyle.

There’s love and passion for both of them.  There’s gratitude to the Universe for so much love in my life.

Kyle has talked about marrying his wife since I met him.  He loves her, and I want him to have everything he desires in the world.

I want some things for myself, too.

My head is heavy with too much life.

Sometimes the best things in the world still hurt,

more than I can say.

This past weekend was built on fear, and this coming weekend will be round two.  The aforementioned airplanes will be coming into play, and my belly is already well aware that we’ll be puking our guts out up at 37,000 feet, so it’s preparing by – you guessed it – puking our guts out down here at +4 feet (give or take a foot.)  However, that’s hardly the biggest fear I’ll be facing.  I’ll be joining Theo on one leg of their massive Spring tour – just a few days out of the nearly 3 months they’ll be gone – and the enormity of it all is hitting me hard.  It’s one thing to be lying in bed with a person you love chatting about breakfast or back pimples (come on, admit it, you do it, too,) but it’s a completely different experience to be in a theatre surrounded by people fawning over this person you know and love who’s suddenly grown into an image you almost don’t recognize.  To express it as feeling small is an understatement, and add to that the fact that Theo isn’t out and so I’m just a “friend with a nice camera” and I get to feeling quite forgotten back in the back row, clicking away at this personality that’s bigger than life.

Theo is also very, very poly – fundamentally so, in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever quite be.  I started out poly by necessity, and then eased into poly by default, but I’m really far too anxious to ever grab that poly bull fully by the horns.  I really like stability – sexy, passionate, loving stability – and the idea of one-night-stands or even more than two partners kinda makes me itch.  Oh, sure, I’m attracted to people all the time, but I’m also a romantic at heart, and I don’t know that I have room in my brain to carry off the attention, the love – heck, the scheduling – with much aplomb.  This weekend, I met one of Theo’s old partners for the first time, and we discussed two and a half (don’t ask) other current partners in the course of some of that very same complicated scheduling.  The world Theo is used to reminds me of that line from Hotel California – all those “pretty, pretty boys she calls friends” – the world of staying friends with your exes that is a hallmark of many queer circles.  Add to that the intricately casual play that happens in dungeons and at conferences and it all gets a bit complicated.

All that talking about the other loves, the other family…it’s hard on my heart, and my needs-to-get-thicker-yesterday skin.  Generally speaking, I don’t get jealous – I just run straight for fear and panic, and the certainty that I suck far too much to be hangin with such cool kids.  (You have to know that rock stars don’t just date anyone – rock stars date other rock stars.  At one time I decided to stop bringing up favorite authors around Theo because, well, it was just intimidating to hear about the ones that had come before.)  (Sorry – even when I’m scared, I can’t help reaching for the cheap laugh.)

I was helping Theo look for a misplaced wallet this weekend, casually flipping through papers and books, when it hit me all at once.  The backstage passes, the photographs, the letters – suddenly it was like realizing I’d wandered down into the scary basement while the power was out and everyone else gone for the weekend.  It hit me palpably, like a gust of cold air, and suddenly I had no idea what the FUCK I WAS THINKING.  Who am I to be dating a god?  Worse still, who am I to be loving a god, living with a god, depending on and being vulnerable to a god – me, the one who has spent years detaching and hardening and learning to stand on my own?  AAAAAIIIIGGGHHHHH!!!!!!  Was I fucking INSANE?

Yeah.  Probably.

And now I’m laughing at myself – not a nice laugh, but one of those wry ones the old lady laughs as she gives you directions to the spooky old castle in the distance that she warned you to avoid – because it’s exactly that insanity, that fear, that drives me on.  If I’m scared of it, it must be worth doing.

Totally insane, I know.

But there’s another fear, too, and it’s not mine.  All of this terrifies Casey, because every step I take toward Theo is a step away from the bubble that was us when I was completely wrapped up in it (and slowly losing my grip.)  I love Casey, but I love Theo, too.  Casey loves me, but she loves her wife, too.  Theo loves me, but they love other people, too.  Theo manages to do it without fear, but Casey and I are still a lot further back on that learning curve.

So we talk, and talk, and talk, and love, and talk some more.  I’m getting better at reacting, at least, and I don’t just run away and call cave, which is a definite improvement.  Casey is getting easier on herself, and I’m trying to follow in suit, although the whole thing still does just seem crazy to me sometimes.

Because, you see – I’m not really Roxy.  I’m just a math teacher mom who wandered into this crazy life pretty much by accident.  And, as much as it scares me, I’m still riding.  No matter the vertical drops, or how many corkscrew turns I have to endure…I wanna see how far this E ride goes.

Theo has spent days and weeks and months here with me and it’s been glorious.  They’re quiet, and thoughtful, and I’ve been learning to sit still and listen…well, at least more than I used to.  We talk about psychology, and Buddhism, and Leather and love and the world inside and out and sometimes just sit still without words, which is still a new trick for me, and I am so very proud when I manage it.  There are smiles and kisses and roses every week, and lunches at exotic restaurants where I don’t even know how to begin to eat or pronounce the food.  There’s been comfort and love and support and a growing intimacy that feeds me and has me sending down tentative roots into the warm, wet soil.  We are open and out when we’re together, and I feel at home beside them.  Next week I’ll be flying with them to a concert – the first time I’ve flown with them, which will be exciting and scary, as I do not fly very well at all.  Hopefully they’ll still be speaking to me by the time we land, and I’ll make a good impression with their good friends we’ll be meeting there.  And then there will be a whole month apart as they tour in far away places, and I work on being alone again after just learning to be together.

My house is almost a home when they’re here, but I’m a little worried the ghosts will slip back in when they’re gone.

Kyle and I are learning to live on less, as well, as I try to be a mom and a dad and a waitress and a cook and a tutor and a maid around here.  It’s a struggle to have less to give, but a joy to see how he’s spending all his time in the world.  Over at his place, he’s reviewing books and making a name for himself, along with all the good works he’s doing in his “real” life that he doesn’t always mention.  We still get to talk a lot, nearly every day, about how he’s growing into who he was always meant to be, and I’ll get to see him again next month, but some things have changed, and that part is hard.  The trick is time, and it’s been terribly unwilling to stretch for either of us, but we’ll be making up for so much soon.  Nothing’s been forgotten, but I’m sure we’ll find new things to remember together.

Theo lives just far away enough to complicate things, but close enough to drive there every week, and I was there last night helping them through a 102 degree fever right before a big weekend of work, which is part of why this post sounds so much like Alice in Wonderland – it seems I’m slipping into the Mad Hatter as my brain tries to cope with so little sleep, or perhaps I’m about to catch on fire, too.  But with Kyle off drinking with the boys, and Theo in exile at their house without a computer that’s working, I had a few minutes in between bedtime for the weasels and bedtime for me and I wanted to say hi.

Hi.

How are you doin?

I’m doing really ok, much better than I have in a long time.  I’m feeling stronger, and more sure of myself, and the mistakes I’m making are ones I can look back on and be very proud of.  I’m telling the truth to anyone who will listen, and a few who won’t, and living every truth as best I can.  I am embracing being an outlaw, and loving the hell out of my kids, and feeling the deep, spreading thrill of being loved by the loves of my life, which is new – allowing myself to trust enough to feel that.  I am angry, finally, and feeling loved and supported by Theo and Kyle who have been angry for me for so long, waiting patiently for me to come around and feel it for myself.

There’s a lot to be angry about, and a lot of it falls on this poor house that was held captive like the rest of us.  I don’t think I’ll ever love this house like I should, but we’ll hold on, at least for now.

My home is in the hearts of my beloveds.  These walls are just a place to rest my bones.

A few big things happened of note that have changed the world considerably for me of late:

• Casey and I got to reconnect after far too long apart.  The visit was beautiful and loving and sexy and good.  There was sunshine and art and sex and excellent food and a lot of everyday stuff and it was wonderful.  Too short as always, but a beautiful reaffirmation of our commitment to each other.  We really do fit very well, even if the demands of our lives only allow for occasional reunions.

• Theo and I bought a bed together.  That alone was a really big deal, but then the bed was delivered and turned out to be a very poor choice for my back and Theo supported the hell out of us going back to the store to find another that was much better.  It’s a scary/trusting/vulnerable thing for me to let someone invest in a relationship so much – both emotionally and financially – and my mind is still reeling a bit from how big it all feels.  Friends I’ve told have been really surprised – I guess they didn’t realize how serious I am about this new “girlfriend” they’ve heard about.  Sheesh – does having a drawer not mean anything to people anymore?

• I didn’t go to Thanksgiving dinner with my parents and family.  I let the weasels go with their dad and they had a wonderful time, and I went with Theo to their family’s celebration, and had an equally wonderful time.  I had been really dreading Thanksgiving with my mom, especially because she can’t seem to get Theo’s name right, even after 6 months, or that, yes, I’m still seeing Casey and everyone’s ok with it, or why I don’t just go back to the weasels’ dad or why I’m not being nice enough to him, plus a sister who may or may not think I’m going to hell for all of it anyway…and then my therapist asked why I was going to spend a whole day with them if it was making me so miserable.  It was a crazy idea, but we made it work, and I even took Theo over to my parents’ house that morning to wish them a good Thanksgiving and give them an offering of cookies while everyone smiled and hugged, and then left before they fell back into the real business of family.  It turns out that my family can muster 30 minutes of earnest loving affection, even when they’re feeling somewhat confused and alienated, and I felt good for being able to stand up for myself (no, I don’t want to be nicer to the guy that hurt me and my kids, I don’t care how reformed he is or how much therapy he’s had) and my loves (yes, even gender nonconforming polyamorists are people, too.)

So it goes – another dinner prepared and put away, another set of dishes, another load of laundry.  Tomorrow I’ll get up and get the kids ready to face another day.  There’ll be lunch boxes to make and homework to tuck into backpacks, and then PTA events to attend and grading to do for class.  Theo will come back home (well, my home) from (their) home tomorrow or Saturday, and we’ll set about creating more of the patchwork of family and love I’m hoping is enough to support the weasels (who have really grown to love Theo, especially because Theo loves Star Wars and gaming.)  We’ll decorate the house for the holidays and create a little Solstice Cheer.

And, hopefully, I’ll even be awake enough to enjoy a little of it.

In the drawer you can see the comfortable I got for Kyle at Ikea – light and cool, just the way he likes it.  I also found our handfasting ceremony and cord to keep in there as well – a beautiful reminder of how much I love him.

Everything is terribly wrong and yet perfectly normal again, until we broach the distance again in February.  Right now I’ve forgotten how we do this crazy, terrible exile without breaking apart.

I know I’ll remember later today or tomorrow or maybe sometime next week, but today it’s a mystery how I live without him.

I’m so excited, it’s almost too hard to do anything but run around in circles grinning, but I’ve gotta keep at it if it’s gonna be ready.

Baby, I can’t wait to see you.  Much love – Roxy, Sir, girl, lover, partner

You can read a little more about it here and here.

If you scurry over there fast, you might catch a little of our shameless romanticism as it turns into outrageous oversexiness.  Follow @sroxy and @ButchtasticKyle if you dare. 

And look at me now – doing the therapy thing weekly…trying, and failing, and trying again to learn to express my feelings…and only mildly uncomfortable with those saccharine sweet feely songs that Emily is so fond of writing (I’m totally down with Amy’s stuff, of course.)  The thing is…well…for three years I’ve saved this space mostly for writing about Kyle and Casey, about our courtship and love, and the ways our lives curled together and apart, and it feels really strange to write about anyone else here.

So much hasn’t changed – I’m still madly, truly, deeply in love with Casey and Kyle.  We’ll be celebrating a couple different anniversaries when I get to see them in November – 3 years since we first met (ok, not technically when we met, but one of my favorite memories ever) and 2 years since we pledged our love in NYC (here and here.)  We still call every day, and chat over Skype, and play and laugh and talk together about everything.

But now Theo’s in the picture, and so much *has* changed.  Theo’s at my house many days out of each week, and I stay at theirs every Wednesday night.  They come to therapy with me so I have a smiling face to greet me as I emerge from the office into the light of day.  After therapy, we walk down the street to a little market on the corner and Theo buys me a rose, and some fruit, and sometimes a gigantic pumpkin (we both share a love for Halloween that surpasses all sense.)  They are by my side so consistently that this week that they’re away performing has taken a lot of adjustment.  Their cat came to visit weeks ago and has stayed, to the delight of my weasels, and their clothing has a large, recurring role in my laundry.  I’ve used the words “girlfriend” and “love” with my friends, and my family, and the weasels.  (My friends are confused, my family is upset, and the weasels are thrilled.)

But still I’ve been very quiet, because I don’t know how much to say, and how much to share, and what I want to talk about.  Folsom was incredible and amazing and scary and wonderful.  And the two photography jobs I got and didn’t tell y’all about were amazing opportunities and really fun, and really not, respectively, but I pushed myself way past fear and learned amazing amounts from each.

I have so much to say…but I’m still working out how to say it.  I have the place, now I just have to find the guts, or maybe the wisdom, or maybe just the will.  Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll find it, and like everything else in my life these past 5 years, it just might take a little looking where I wouldn’t expect to go.