Intimacy, polyamory, and emotional labor

Intimacy between two people requires emotional labor. 

I don’t just mean sex, but I also mean that. When you take on a partner(sexual, life, crime, drinking), unless you have negotiated otherwise, you agree to be considerate of their desires, considerate of their emotions, consider them when you make decisions that impact them, considerate of their interests, considerate of how you impact them. You also have to do the emotional labor to gain a better understanding of your relationship, how your desires mesh, how your plans intersect, and who you are together, and what you want together. Just as importantly, you need to consider what you want, what your desires are, what your own problems are, what your own flaw are, and how your health and situation affect your, as well as theirs: and how you express these things to one another in a healthy and constructive manner.

This is what makes people feel as if they are part of a concerted effort, that they are your partner, that they are seen and loved, mostly above any other action or act, these considerations are important. 

And I don’t mean worry. If you are worrying about your partner instead of considering them you aren’t doing emotional labor for the benefit of your relationship, you are trying to defend yourself, and there is likely a much larger issue to be worked on together. But even then, for those things to be successful you have to do the emotional labor.

When you are poly the emotional labor becomes paramount. In my experience, one of the primary complaints in poly relationships  is inconsideration. I have been and will probably be again, guilty of this. It happens, we are all humans with imperfect understanding, and limited time and energy. When you divide the emotional labor you can do amongst multiple partners you can find yourself running out of time and energy. As with all things, admit your mistake, reaffirm your desires

In addition, in all relationships, the amount of emotional labor each person does is usually not an even 50/50. For no other reason than the vagaries of human existence. Emotional labor is hard, especially if you are the partner above the 50 line. When you are poly you have to add an extra layer of management on top of that, which is also hard, so it’s easy to set the level across the board at the same place. Because that’s fair, right? Problem is, humans aren’t the same, some or all emotional labor can be more costly for some but not for others. There can be non-relationship factors: neurological differences, mental and physical medical conditions, stress, job shift….all kinds of things. So to be partners with multiple people you have to mange the levels for each relationship on the merits and conditions of each relationship, the agreements and above all else: together.

If you do fail or choose not to do the emotional labor, because for one reason or another you are focused on a different relationship or situation, or your own problems get in your way, in the short term I think most people are willing to sacrifice for their partner.  As it might help their partner, or make them happy and generally helping your partner is part of being their partner. However, when it lasts too long, you aren’t communicating with them, or it turns from your partner making a sacrifice to an ambivalence or disregard, then you are taking your partner for granted.

When you become unwilling to do the emotional labor, to consider your partner, to think about their emotions, and desires….when you stop the emotional labor you lose the intimacy. This can happen through no malice, planning, or intention on either partner’s part. Rarely are one or both not aware it’s happening even if they pretend it isn’t. Usually it comes with anger, primarily at one’s self.

However, most of the time it’s going to be about tending to the relationship. Showing your partner you are doing the emotional labor through action and word. No one is holding up a meter or keeping exacting score so things are ‘fair’. You have to find the place where your emotional labor is making yourself, your partner, and the relationship healthy and happy.  It can take a lot of work to find that place, and in fact you may never find a perfect balance, but the important part is to try and to keep communicating.

Emotional labor is hard for every one, but if you love someone it is a literal labor of love.

From Waffle House to 13 years old

My memory isn't the best and as time goes along, I lose more and more of my past. I figured, it's time to put some things down about it.

The first thing I want to get down is about my mother.

It has been 12 years since I have seen or interacted with my biological mother.

It has been 17 years since the woman who raised me, my mommy, ceased to exist.

I hear, through my father, that she is still alive but not for very much longer. However, I don't want to talk about her just yet, that's another less happy post about a person whom I don't know.

This post is about the woman who raised me and what I remember of my 13 years with her.

My first memories of her are fuzzy and disjointed. I know I was not yet 5 years old, I remember my first day of Kindergarten and the house we lived in at that time.  I remember she worked at Waffle House, that we didn't have a car so she walked to work, and sometimes I would walk with her to work. I remember crossing a bridge between home and her work. I don't have any memories of the Waffle House nor of the apartment we lived in but I do remember that bridge. Concrete and asphalt, 4 lanes wide and it didn't have any jump barriers, they weren't putting them up in the 80s. Apparently it wasn't a popular suicide method.

She was shorter than I am now. Probably 5'5" or so, had red hair though I think it was dyed, she went gray early. She had a small build, I think I was physically bigger than her when I was 13.

For most of my childhood I lived with her, my step-dad, 3 sisters, 1 brother, my niece, my nephew, my 2 cousins and other assorted family members in a 2 bedroom house. She and step-dad supported the entire household between them.

She worked at a VHS distribution company called ComTron. I don't remember what she did but she brought home a lot of screeners. Screeners are the movies they use to send to video stores to preview prior to them ordering rentable movies. As a consequence of her ethically-questionable media procurement I got to see a lot of movies I would not have otherwise been able to see as a kid. Between that and my dad's love of movie theaters I grew to love cinemas.

I had a lot of ear aches as a kid and I remember her spending hours and hours just trying to figure out how to make it better. Holding hair dryers to my ears and putting beeswax in when the pain became too much and all I could do is lay on the bed alternating whimpering and crying.

She also loved to read and while I don't recall being read to as a child, I do remember stealing many of the novels from her bookcase. The Anne Rice vampire series was my favorite. She also read a lot of bodice rippers but I never understood those. It's funny, it was only as an adult that I realized Anne Rice was obsessed with queer and gay men, and the vampire series was her way of exploring that.

My mom did arts and crafts, really liked to crochet. She taught me how, I never really did much but make chains. I think watching her paint and artistically modify our household items pushed me to art.

I remember the night she let me drink coffee for the first time, while she painted the kitchen ceiling. She let me have as much as I wanted. Then once I had made myself sick on coffee, she fed me crackers.

She taught me how to cook, how to do laundry, how to do household repairs...lots of little domestic things that I've built on over the years.

She was always busy. When it wasn't work, it was cleaning and cooking or the horde of people to take care of. We all helped cook and clean but it was never enough. She ran the household while we rotated around her.

*****I paused to commute to work and through talking about this post with my Partner In Crime (tm) and I was reminded of a few other memories.*****

My mom use to buy me puzzles. Lots and lots of puzzles. One of which was called the Visible Woman.

She painted the organs and the circulatory system for me. I had it on my shelf for a long long time. It disappeared during one of our moves but I really liked it.

The last gift I received from my mom was a glass unicorn. I don't really go for chachkies but I do have some. I own around 2 dozen non-productive objects but I still have that unicorn. It's slightly broken but I have it. I still don't understand why she thought I would want a glass unicorn. It was one of the most bizarre gifts ever. I never asked why and she never volunteered. It didn't really need an explanation.

I miss her a lot sometimes.

Thank you for reading and sharing these memory with me.