the agony aunt speaks.

Trade-offs

I wince a lot at home.

There are things my family does that would never be tolerated in any other household. The one that set me to thinking about it was my mother randomly screaming up the stairs for me while I was listening to music -- I just made out the last syllable of my name.

As often as I have asked her to come UP the stairs and speak to me when there is music going, she never once has done it of her own accord. And why am I limiting it to "when there is music going", anyway? I wouldn't shout up or down the stairs to -- I have got to come up with a nickname for my metamour that isn't too trite. Help me, love? -- Well, I wouldn't shout for her. I'd go and find her. She would probably do me the same courtesy.

There are plenty of days when I wish I lived with my partner and my metamour. They're civilised, at least.

But for all the rudenesses around here, I also see kindnesses I couldn't have in their home that I get in mine. The very worst-case scenario for me is a panic attack I can't stop on my own. Doesn't happen too often anymore. Is still a frightening prospect. I can't wake them in the middle of the night looking for help. I could wake him, but I'd feel strange going into their room. I don't feel strange about waking my mother. People with healthier brains (and who grew up in functional families) probably see this as dead bizarre. Do bear with me while I muddle through THIS reality. I'd love not to need help. I'd love to move out on my own. Ain't happening.

I want boundaries in some areas and I need for the boundaries to stay down in others. I think I need professional help sorting this through.
 
They pop up like pimples . . .

. . . those unremarkable, undesired, unfathomably lazy little gym rats.

Hi..how r u doing today?

An hour ago, I might've answered, "Well, my family had a bit of a crisis, but it's on its way to resolution, and I'm relieved to have my car back so I can run errands."

But not today! It is now the twenty-first, and by God I haven't lectured anyone yet.

"Today" is fifty-two minutes old, though I see you sent yours with seven minutes to spare in yesterday. Yesterday was difficult. Today is, thus far, better.

Well, except for having to tell a grown boy of thirty to man up and use real words when he's addressing a potential date. Yes, even from a smartphone. Take the extra ten seconds and actually impress me, o generic manchild.
 
The one that set me to thinking about it was my mother randomly screaming up the stairs for me while I was listening to music -- I just made out the last syllable of my name.

This was normal in my house.:eek:

As often as I have asked her to come UP the stairs and speak to me when there is music going, she never once has done it of her own accord. And why am I limiting it to "when there is music going", anyway?

Who's house is it, who pays the majority of the rent/mortgage? If it's her house, her rules. Does she get mad that you don't hear her or does she call once, then come get you if she gets no response?

In my house, if the kids can't hear me calling down the hall (it's less than 20 feet), when their music is on, the music is TOO loud. End of Story. As I've gotten older, my ears have become increasingly more sensitive to loud noises (including music) and less able to hear softer volume stuff, especially if there is a lot of ambient noise (music in another room). It can get actually painful and bring on a severe headache. I've got the same rule in the car. If you can't hear an emergency siren (or any other noises outside your car), the music is TOO loud.

I wouldn't shout up or down the stairs to -- I have got to come up with a nickname for my metamour that isn't too trite. Help me, love? -- Well, I wouldn't shout for her. I'd go and find her. She would probably do me the same courtesy.

In your house you can make your own rules. A great deal depends on what people grew up doing or watching other people do.

I don't feel strange about waking my mother. People with healthier brains (and who grew up in functional families) probably see this as dead bizarre.

Not bizarre, natural. She's your MOM, that's what mom's are for :D. Remember, you have lived with your mom longer than anyone else, she's been there through all the yucky stuff. Now that I've been married 21 years, there's stuff I would wake my husband over, but not my mother.
 
Who's house is it, who pays the majority of the rent/mortgage? If it's her house, her rules. Does she get mad that you don't hear her or does she call once, then come get you if she gets no response?

The former. She keeps calling and calling, and because she does that for everything, I've no way of knowing whether it is a situation where she could come up and get me or whether she's trapped somewhere. It's not down the hall as often as it is up the stairs, around corners, etc. I wish they'd go back to banging on the ceiling with brooms and such to get my attention.

I should point out that the "our house, our rules/aw, crap, it's an adult now" dilemma has been ongoing in our family. I'm 26, and have lived out previously (for a semester, but hey) and attempted to find work, only to be sacked due to illness. If not for said illness, I think I'd have got through the weirdness of living out and been happily ensconced in a flat near CdM.

I am also not the one in the household who wakes up the sleeping people with her noise. I am, however, the one who goes downstairs to ask if that's Dad's computer or the neighbor making that noise. About the only time I commit a noise violation is bathtime, when I put the music on nice and loud and sing (it's therapeutic!). Always while people are awake and/or out of the house. Then it's truly a matter of "you must come and get me, and for goodness' sake knock".

If you can't hear an emergency siren (or any other noises outside your car), the music is TOO loud.

Oh, agreed. I need to be aware of my surroundings when I drive. Useful not only for sirens but, when one drives an aging car, telltale "Get me to the garage!" noises.

In your house you can make your own rules. A great deal depends on what people grew up doing or watching other people do.

Well, the shouting would've been impractical in my mother's house, given the divisions between sections -- it's an old German house with lots of plaster and heavy doors. What went on at Dad's I'm ill-inclined to ask. His norm involved beatings.

Point is, for me, that there are three of us. Adults. (So there are no minor children in the home who will feel slighted by different rules.) Our situation is neither my fault nor my choice. We've all got to get behind basic consideration of each other's needs, just like any other three adults who cohabit. Not, I realise, something many parents like to consider when they plan for their futures -- not something I wanted, either. But there you go. Sometimes life happens and we need to adapt.
 
Youch!

That's hot! :D:D:D

Apparently American English has no standard spellings. It's all about the meaning.

So I lobbed a few less-than-complimentary Britishisms at him and blocked him.
 
I should point out that the "our house, our rules/aw, crap, it's an adult now" dilemma has been ongoing in our family. I'm 26, and have lived out previously (for a semester, but hey) and attempted to find work, only to be sacked due to illness. If not for said illness, I think I'd have got through the weirdness of living out and been happily ensconced in a flat near CdM.

Yes, your an adult, living rent free or with a greatly cheaper rent than you could get elsewhere (or why else would you be living with mom). When your the one paying the house payment and supporting others, you will understand the "my house, my rules". I see all too often, adult children living rent free with mom and dad, and expect to be treated like a rent paying boarder, but with all the perks of living at home (free food, free rent, mom clean up, mom cooking, etc). It's hard to go back to living with your parents when you've gotten used to living on your own. When my brother moved back home when he lost his job (recently after his divorce), he too struggled with my parents desire to know his schedule. He was used to coming and going as he pleased. However, they had a right to know if he was having friends over to THEIR house or if they needed to call the cops because someone was opening the front door at 2am.

Maybe a different approach with your mom would work? "Mom, I know you don't want to climb the stairs, but if I don't respond when you first call up, it's almost guaranteed, I can't hear you. No amount of yelling will change that. Please don't make yourself hoarse by screaming, but come and knock on my door to get my attention." This is a habit and habits are hard to break. Keep reminding her, but don't let your irritation show. She's not doing this to purposely irritate you.

American English has no standard spellings

What fun would that be, especially for those that like to make up words (or we are trying to spell sounds) :p
 
Yes, your an adult, living rent free or with a greatly cheaper rent than you could get elsewhere (or why else would you be living with mom).

Were SSI more plentiful, and easier to get, I wouldn't be. ;) But I am trying to come 'round to your point of view and, from there, hers. Please be patient as I work through it!

I should begin by saying that I don't expect to support others for a long time to come. The only sensible way for me to be a parent is by adoption, and if it comes to that, adoption of an older child. I do pay the vet bills for the family pets; I pay my medical bills (they do pile up); if I add anything to the grocery bill, it's no more than $10 a week (which also piles up, yes).

I am capable of helping with chores provided I am doing them with someone else. My energy reserves, as far as physical activity goes, are lower than my parents', all things being equal. That said, I do try to get my dishes into the dishwasher, and I find I'm getting better with beds. I think what I need, in order to contribute on a housekeeping level, is an actual list of agreed-upon tasks. When something is my domain, I enjoy taking charge of it. I'm terrible at mopping and sweeping, but great with dishes. I'd like to resume my old one-load-a-day habit, laundry-wise, so if my parents would be willing, I could wash theirs with mine during the day. It's not so tough! Into the washer, into the dryer, folded and, if I can find a convenient place for it, ironed. I am going to learn how to darn holes; I already repair seams well by hand, and I look forward to trying out the slip stitch for certain hems.

I have been told not to interfere with the mail, so I take mine and leave the rest. I long to install a mail system of some kind for the household, even something as simple as baskets on a shelf.

When my brother moved back home when he lost his job (recently after his divorce), he too struggled with my parents desire to know his schedule. He was used to coming and going as he pleased. However, they had a right to know if he was having friends over to THEIR house or if they needed to call the cops because someone was opening the front door at 2am.

Oh, goodness, that is a reasonable desire on your parents' part. We have that sorted, at least. I wouldn't spring guests on roommates any more than I would my parents. We are still working out how to classify CdM after four years. ;) I say he's family, Mum still thinks of him as a guest. I wonder how she will treat her sister when she comes to stay in a year? That'll be interesting.

I also know that my parents do care for my safety. I don't go out much, but when I do, I understand that they get fearful. I will never stop being their child on some level. My phone is always on, except when I've been an idiot and let the battery run down, as I did overnight. Oh, dear. Setting that to charge now.

Maybe a different approach with your mom would work? "Mom, I know you don't want to climb the stairs, but if I don't respond when you first call up, it's almost guaranteed, I can't hear you. No amount of yelling will change that. Please don't make yourself hoarse by screaming, but come and knock on my door to get my attention." This is a habit and habits are hard to break. Keep reminding her, but don't let your irritation show. She's not doing this to purposely irritate you.

So noted. I'll try harder. :) They love me. I love them. Working out new dynamics is frustration itself; I need to remember the part about not irritating each other on purpose. Mum is not waking me because she wants me sleep-deprived. She's waking me because she likes news with her coffee, only the TV is weird and complicated. Things like that.

Note to self: make troubleshooting guide?
 
Things that make you go "Awwww!"

Yes, my fellow secondaries, it is possible to have cute domestic moments with your partner even when you have separate households. His shirts won't fix themselves.

Mind you, I'm old-fashioned about sewing. I believe we should know how to do it. Even my mother can manage a few basic stitches, and she claims the knack missed her -- passed from her aunt to her sister to me. Of course, she used to know how to knit, and I never could. Crochet's more my speed. One implement plus hands, thank you!
 
Note to self: make troubleshooting guide?

Great idea.

Mind you, I'm old-fashioned about sewing. I believe we should know how to do it. Even my mother can manage a few basic stitches, and she claims the knack missed her -- passed from her aunt to her sister to me. Of course, she used to know how to knit, and I never could. Crochet's more my speed. One implement plus hands, thank you!

Me too, but I knit and don't like to crochet :). I find this completely typical, you either do one or the other. Darning socks is easy, just takes patience. I don't bother with cotton socks I can get in bulk, but the boys expensive hiking socks most definitely. I find a "washable" sock yarn works best.
 
Me too, but I knit and don't like to crochet :). I find this completely typical, you either do one or the other. Darning socks is easy, just takes patience. I don't bother with cotton socks I can get in bulk, but the boys expensive hiking socks most definitely. I find a "washable" sock yarn works best.

From what I read, darning isn't much different from weaving, and I've been weaving on little cardboard looms since I was eight or nine. Am I far off the mark?
 
From what I read, darning isn't much different from weaving, and I've been weaving on little cardboard looms since I was eight or nine. Am I far off the mark?

Nope, that's basically what it is. Your patching the whole using a weaving pattern in the whole. I just googled how to do it, I think there are even Utube videos.
 
The part I should've put first, huh?

For someone whose primary is the English language, I really am terrible at autobiographical blurbs.

You can call me Cass. I'm 26, poly, one of CielDuMatin's partners, and quite happy with our vee. We met four years ago at my first-ever poly meetup. I did not go there looking for a partner. I swear I was just curious as to who was making this work and how. Then I sat down opposite CdM and my metamour, M. :) Our anniversary is a movable feast because neither of us wanted to go back and look up exact dates. I have a mind like a steel colander, you could say.

-- I am really not accustomed to saying much about us. We function. In terms of hierarchy, I'm the one who doesn't live with them, but what does that say about how much he loves me? Not a darn thing. He finds solace in me, and pleasure, and a great deal of companionship. I choose to let him into the mate-selection process because he sees things I don't. If he's not polysaturated, he's the nearest thing to it, and M is monogamous; combined with my pickiness, we are effectively closed.

I don't think much further than "what if?" right now. Aside from being poly, I am also a woman, a daughter of daughters, a student when my disability lets me indulge, maybe an employee next summer, and a person who writes fiction for kicks. Now that I am getting stronger, I can try playing my flute again. There is so much I care about that doesn't relate to being part of a relationship. I don't think I'd be a very good partner if I weren't so comfortable as me.

I give a lot of advice. I hit a lot of nerves. I plan to start soft-pedaling it when I have paying clients. ;) I know how to cut to the heart of a matter. I see it as an asset, not a liability. I've been ill-served by the gentle approach; I wouldn't do that to someone who needed to hear a few home truths. I am probably going to be the kind of social worker who kicks ass, takes names, attempts to fix the system, gets sacked, and strikes out on her own. I am okay with that. I was never one to sit down, shut up, and play nice unless I damn well pleased.

Have I missed anything?
 
On a tired night, it goes like this.

Him:

hi I'm john. First of all, I think u are really very cute. I would realty like to get to know u and go from there. I'm a hard working, blue collar kind if guy. But I do well for my self. I have a cbr600rr and I ride it alot So how about we trade facebook info, or i could just text u. I'm lot a fan of just talking on here. I just want to meet a nice, fun, kick ass girl LOL. So we can chat and just see where it goes. Iv been on a big work out and diet kick as of late and iv lost 50lbs from my pics

Me:

No.

What the fuck is a cbr600rr when it's at home? And is this guy aware of the risks of endless tattooing? I mean, have you seen the MMWR articles lately about the skin infections resulting from tainted ink?

If that hadn't been syntax soup up there, maybe I'd have bothered. As it is, no. Not until my brain re-jellifies.
 
Just your type - I can't for the life of me imagine why you didn't let him take you for a ride!
 
Things I will admit:

Not all of the random contacts are a bad thing.

Even though I seldom, if ever, meet dating material, sometimes I run into people who are genuinely nice and not looking to screw me in any sense of the word. One of those popped into my inbox last night.

True nice guys are all right by me. You don't need to be a ripped jerk. I don't care about "hot". Looks are so subjective when I take personality into account. I can look at two people who are similar, learn about them, and declare one much better-looking than the other. It works the other way, too. If you're average on the outside but shiny on the inside, you are way more jumpworthy than your prettier but shallower/douchier counterpart.
 
Our M

I am thinking of my metamour tonight.

M has gone to hospital. She will be all right, but she's stuck there for the weekend, it seems, and this was supposed to be their time to relax together. Both of them had unexpected time free from work obligations -- that's so rare for them. CdM has also had a shorter night's sleep thanks to, ah, me. (It's not what you think. He gets up very early in order to get to work from my place. Also, we were poking fun at my colloquial, learned-at-Oma's-knee German.)

(The best way to drift off to sleep is to laugh together.)

At least she has her ebooks and her music to keep her company, but I do wish they'd put her in a nice room with a cot for him. Even if she has been given the Good Drugs, they'd be together.

So this is the downside of compersion. When you share their joys, you also share their sorrows.
 
it must be . . .

This is what it must be like to get high.

I never have before. Just a little drunk. I've never taken any substance that made me feel like opening my heart to the universe, nor any that made my blood fizz with energy.

It's all people-energy. It all comes from feeling like my best self, including having a great hair day, and sharing the good feeling with others. They respond! They respond by waving across several lanes of traffic (that was my UPS guy -- blew him a kiss -- he's got such gorgeous legs) or spending ten minutes just talking about languages with you (the lovely Moroccan gent in the sunglasses). They respond by letting you share their troubles and taking some of your joy back with them (Chibi and Theresa).

I'm a little frightened by the fizz. It's adrenaline. Adrenaline is bad, right? It makes me panic. But this is a surge of the stuff that I didn't allow out of my grasp. This is the kind of surge that came from natural human interactions. Rarely if ever does my extrovert nature overwhelm my introvert training in this way, but when it does, holy wow.

So I kept breathing. When I felt lightheaded with it, I made myself sit down and play a bit of Sudoku on my phone. I came home, I figured out that I was hungry, I ate something, and now I'm winding down for the evening. I had a good experience. I am congratulating myself on not letting the fizz tip me over the edge into anything dysphoric. This is how therapy works with meds to produce function. This is how I get my life back: one good day at a time.

. . .

M had as good a day as she could. She is fully wired now, with all of her gadgets at her fingertips, and she's got more than hospital gowns to wear. She still hurts, but not as badly as yesterday. She's happier. She's even getting the edible hospital food.

And she has CdM, who is the most loving darling man we could have asked for. He's there with and for her. Where else should he be? My heart, how could any woman begrudge such support to another? How could anyone ever think that he hasn't got enough love to go around when clearly he has?

. . .

This choice we made four years ago, to give it a try, has made me so happy. I love a man who values my freedom as much as I do, and feels the depth of my love without needing to possess me. Such men are rare in the world. Such women, too. Mum and I were talking, and she said, "Flirting is just flirting. It doesn't mean anything." And I told her there were a lot of people in the world who thought flirting was a threat to their relationship. Mum's monogamous and even she understands.

I don't want to be owned. If and/or when I join a household, I want to join it with the understanding that I am still my own entity. We are multiples of 100%, not fractions, unless we're the funny kind of fractions that divide out into more than 1. Do they even have a proper name?

I will not be owned. End of.
 
cut on the bias.

Nobody is completely without prejudice. This is mine.

I fucking hate how entwined the poly and kink communities have got. No, dammit, I'm only tiny on the outside; I have done the brain work and discovered I am fundamentally unsuited to being anything on the sub end of things. I could pro-domme under the right circumstances (read: for money, after considerable training) -- not sure who'd take me seriously, though. I mean, hello, 4'11" and hoistable. The closest I get is wanting a corset, and that's just not sexual to me.

I found myself wincing when a guy who'd caught my eye turned out to be experimenting with kink in his new configuration. Part of this is burning resentment against the catastrophe that was last winter, looking for a reason for my illness. Nice man with complications I might otherwise have handled well comes along. Nice man is not dating material while I have such pressing concerns. I've just come off a sort of annus horribilis, and now I'm looking around and there's just nobody, now. Not who understands that I've no desire to be part of a bloody leather arrangement. I am equal. You are equal. We. Are. Equal. Look, I write fiction if I want to explore weird power dynamics and it STILL comes out to "We are equal" in the end.

And since part of this damn disability shtick involves pain on many levels (muscles, joints, even nerves during really bad episodes), do you SEE me wanting to endure more? Or remotely getting off on it?

What is so passé about vanilla, I'd like to know?

So yeah, I'm disappointed and resentful and generally not happy that even the ordinary ones end up tangled in what is, in my area, not the healthiest bunch. Maybe I'd be more inclined to explore the fetish-fashion thing and model if I could see "healthy" in there anywhere. I feel unsafe even going to a meet-and-greet. I'm always wondering, "Who are you and what is your major malfunction?"

There is a great deal of malfunction in counter-culture. This is why it's laugh/cry whenever I see anyone claiming poly or kink are in any way enlightened, better, drama-free -- no. I've even pulled away from people who share elements of my spirituality because, to use imagery that makes sense to me, their yarn is hopelessly knotted. The only way to untangle those knots is to clip the good yarn free of the knots and retie it in such a way that it can still be used. I don't like to go into a situation wielding scissors, though. I prefer a skein with knots I can coax free, if there have to be knots. Mostly I prefer a skein that's not been tangled at all.

Counter me out of that. Sad as I am to lose the mutual interests, I'd have to be very carefully coaxed into certain groups by people I can trust, and remain surrounded and shielded by people I can trust. I had already had enough of adults behaving like children by the age of twenty-two. I did not wish, and do not wish, to go looking for massive repositories of them.

-- I'm discouraged today, obviously. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning. Or maybe I'll have more nightmares and wake up crying for my "sister" Alyx. Crapshoot.
 
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