One Year Closer to Balance
Feb. 13th, 2009 10:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanCelebrating the first year of this holiday with my friend ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mrissa. I received a huge gift of balance in December.
arkuat moved here from California. No more figuring out how to afford enough travel to keep the relationship happy, no more two-hour time difference, no more long emails about parties or walks or sunsets ending in "I wish you could have seen it, been there, come with us." No more fretting that something bad might happen about which I could do nearly nothing. No more leaping up from whatever I was doing with a sweetie I lived with to answer the phone in case it was the sweetie I didn't live with. No more thinking up ingenious ways to be there when I wasn't there. (No more visits to a Mediterranean climate, either, no more ocean, redwoods, shore birds, Stellar's Jays, tidepools, or vegan restaurants; but never mind that now.)
A huge number of things fell into place and became easier.
However, the mechanism is far more complicated than I ever realize, even when I attempt to realize it on a regular basis. For the past -- how many years? -- four, I think. Oh, dear. -- four years, I've been working hard and as steadily as is in my nature on Going North. In January I sent it in tosdn, who, upon hearing how long it was, told me that I would need to split it in two. Suddenly there were two books, Going North and Abiding Reflection. When I'd thought I was done, I cast a muddled and sleep-deprived eye back past all the choices I'd made to stay home, to do research, to glare at the computer and pace the unvacuumed carpet past the piles of unshelved books, unwashed dishes, unweeded garden growing to seed, to give priority to the book, after years that I am not going to count when I didn't write at all. I declined more invitations than I accepted. I issued, effectually, none at all. I didn't go to any out-of-town conventions. Well, now, I thought, I can get things back in balance again. Clean, sort, see people, go to Minn-Stf meetings, attend non-local conventions.
Well, not quite yet, then, not in January. The manuscript of Abiding Reflection is due at the end of March. It has to take priority, because there are only so many days until the end of March and only so many hours in the day and only so much energy in the Pamela. But I now have all three of my sweeties in one place. Instead of setting aside a week here and five days here and braving airports and planes to see one of them, there's a regular schedule (o bliss!) and no need for more travel than can be encompassed by a Minneapolis bus. I am delighted beyond measure, but time at home must now be more carefully allotted. I'm still working on that. The one concrete step I've taken was to suggest todd_b that we actually go out together occasionally. We'd been married for twelve years when we took up polyamory, and were accustomed to being one another's default for going out for dinner, going to parties, going shopping, going for a walk. We'd talked from time to time over the fourteen years we've been in this new setup about making actual dates with one another, but generally ended comfortably with, "I know where you live, after all." But between my myopic focus on the book and the arrival of Eric, we decided that it was time.
Once this book is out of the house, I need to get to work seriously on the next one. Seriously, but lightly enough that nobody gets neglected and there is a garden and new recipes cooked and a desk surface that I can see. No more veering between not writing at all and writing like a maniac while chaos creeps in from all corners.
That's my plan, anyway. Long-winded and diffuse as ever.
Hoping you are, not the same, but as you wish to be,
Pamela
mrissa. I received a huge gift of balance in December. arkuat moved here from California. No more figuring out how to afford enough travel to keep the relationship happy, no more two-hour time difference, no more long emails about parties or walks or sunsets ending in "I wish you could have seen it, been there, come with us." No more fretting that something bad might happen about which I could do nearly nothing. No more leaping up from whatever I was doing with a sweetie I lived with to answer the phone in case it was the sweetie I didn't live with. No more thinking up ingenious ways to be there when I wasn't there. (No more visits to a Mediterranean climate, either, no more ocean, redwoods, shore birds, Stellar's Jays, tidepools, or vegan restaurants; but never mind that now.)A huge number of things fell into place and became easier.
However, the mechanism is far more complicated than I ever realize, even when I attempt to realize it on a regular basis. For the past -- how many years? -- four, I think. Oh, dear. -- four years, I've been working hard and as steadily as is in my nature on Going North. In January I sent it in to
sdn, who, upon hearing how long it was, told me that I would need to split it in two. Suddenly there were two books, Going North and Abiding Reflection. When I'd thought I was done, I cast a muddled and sleep-deprived eye back past all the choices I'd made to stay home, to do research, to glare at the computer and pace the unvacuumed carpet past the piles of unshelved books, unwashed dishes, unweeded garden growing to seed, to give priority to the book, after years that I am not going to count when I didn't write at all. I declined more invitations than I accepted. I issued, effectually, none at all. I didn't go to any out-of-town conventions. Well, now, I thought, I can get things back in balance again. Clean, sort, see people, go to Minn-Stf meetings, attend non-local conventions.Well, not quite yet, then, not in January. The manuscript of Abiding Reflection is due at the end of March. It has to take priority, because there are only so many days until the end of March and only so many hours in the day and only so much energy in the Pamela. But I now have all three of my sweeties in one place. Instead of setting aside a week here and five days here and braving airports and planes to see one of them, there's a regular schedule (o bliss!) and no need for more travel than can be encompassed by a Minneapolis bus. I am delighted beyond measure, but time at home must now be more carefully allotted. I'm still working on that. The one concrete step I've taken was to suggest to
dd_b that we actually go out together occasionally. We'd been married for twelve years when we took up polyamory, and were accustomed to being one another's default for going out for dinner, going to parties, going shopping, going for a walk. We'd talked from time to time over the fourteen years we've been in this new setup about making actual dates with one another, but generally ended comfortably with, "I know where you live, after all." But between my myopic focus on the book and the arrival of Eric, we decided that it was time.Once this book is out of the house, I need to get to work seriously on the next one. Seriously, but lightly enough that nobody gets neglected and there is a garden and new recipes cooked and a desk surface that I can see. No more veering between not writing at all and writing like a maniac while chaos creeps in from all corners.
That's my plan, anyway. Long-winded and diffuse as ever.
Hoping you are, not the same, but as you wish to be,
Pamela
no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 08:11 pm (UTC)*hugs back*
P.