Time and healing

Quick update - Nice Guy and I are trying again, but it's not the same as it was. Things are still somewhat poignant between us, and I think it will be a while before I'm entirely comfortable around him. His right hand is still swollen where he punched the door of his dining room hard enough to crack it, and it makes me wince every time I notice it. We spent the whole of Monday talking about what went wrong, and I learned a few things about past relationships of his that made what happened, while still not excusable, at least understandable. Now all we have to do is see it never happens again... a hard one, that.

The weekend with Mountain was amazing, though, and he has been so supportive and lovely, as well as being a much needed distraction when I've needed it. I'm very glad he's a part of my life as well.

Off to see Thespian tomorrow, and will be popping in on another couple of friends in the area. The upset with Nice Guy has made me realise just how much my world has shrunk down lately to two men, plus work, eat and sleep, and I'm taking the chance to catch up with friends I haven't seen in a long time while I have a couple of weekends free.

Feeling like Humpty-Dumpty

Up and down, up and down, I've been feeling very much like a little tug-boat in a storm lately. Tonight I feel like I finally landed, but on some nice sharp jagged rocks, and only now the bottom's out of the boat and it's too late, discovered the bit of flotsam that was jamming the motor fell out somewhere along the way.

This morning Nice Guy and I went shopping with another girlfriend of his, Historicist, who I hadn't met before. She was apparently rather nervous about meeting me. Not only is she not poly, but she's very new to the whole field of relationships in general, so I could understand that. However we clicked quite quickly, as she's a bright and intelligent (and slightly geeky) sort of girl, and not only got, but actually *liked* my jokes (a rare event!) and it turned out to be a really enjoyable day in the City. This evening, however, not quite so fun.

I've been having some major talks with Nice Guy lately, some of them quite heated, about the state of our relationship, where things are going, where things are going with other people, and some factors involving sexual health and safety - one of the complicated things about polyamory is that if you make a mistake on that front, you're affecting *all* of your lovers, and possibly theirs too, so a lot of thinking, caring and frank discussion tends to be needed. Because I've been considering trying some new things with Mountain, it's brought up a lot of new things that needed to be discussed, some of which have been quite uncomfortable for one or other of us.

Ironically, things were actually going quite well when everything went pear-shaped. We were back at NG's house, having invited Scaredycat over to catch up, and we'd been talking things over more, and actually getting places. I'd had a couple of impatient responses, and was feeling quite small and selfish, but I'd asked for a couple of minutes out of discussion, some processing time, and was just drawing myself up to be adult and sensible and yes, ethical about things - to agree to wait and discuss more and to respect boundaries that weren't my own, for the sake of love. Disaster though - he panicked at me withdrawing, and prodded. And prodded. And kept pushing, despite my asking him to please, just stop for a minute or two.
Kept pushing until I ran and hid and then carried on even after I literally begged him to just stop. Pushed on right until I hit breaking point.
Things actually got worse still. I'll not go on too much, I know he wasn't intending to do me any harm, but my god, a six foot plus adult male having a histrionic fit, threatening to break doors down and punching walls is bloody scary. As is one that's trying to stop you leaving the building when you're too upset and scared to stay around.

The really gutting thing, though, is that just a few hours ago, a few hours *after* all this, Nice Guy rang to say that he'd spent two hours on the phone with Mountain, they'd talked about a lot of the things he'd been worrying about, he was feeling a lot happier and a lot more hopeful.
Just that little bit too late.
It's early days, and I know things may feel different in the morning, but right now, it feels like we're over. One of the things that made me feel so very good with my Nice Guy was the sense of safety I felt around him, and it's gone. We'd had similar rows before, and he'd said he would learn to stop pushing, and it hasn't happened, instead it seems to be worse than ever. He promised me this evening that he'd not do it again and I've realised I don't think there's anything on this earth that would make me believe that. I can't promise not to need time out during a row, and don't honestly believe he is capable of staying rational enough to *not* react to that the same way as this evening. I can't see any sort of resolution to that.
Just the way we couldn't help pushing each others buttons put me in a situation I never want to be in again, which does not mean good things for the relationship.

On a more positive note, the support-network side of poly very much came into its own tonight - I am intensely grateful to Miss Sunshine, who was good enough to call NG as a favour to me to check he was okay, after I walked out of his house. I'm grateful to Scaredycat, who was good-natured about my messing him around as to where we were meeting up, and provided much-needed platonic hugs. And I'm immensely grateful to Mountain for being his usual caring, likeable and insightful self (I wonder if it's tempting fate to wonder where the catch is there...). In some ways I'm quite fluffy about NG as well, since after he calmed down he was concerned enough about my feelings to let me know that he was ok, and to finally bite the bullet and have a proper talk with Mountain, even if it was too late.

Unfortunately that's the bit that makes me feel like I've been gutted with a shovel - I still care very deeply for NG, it's clear that he still loves me, and from what he said after having spoken to Mountain it was starting to look like things could really work out in more long term ways, too. Except that I think that, earlier tonight, he broke what made us 'us'.

I don't know quite where things are heading now. Scaredycat is going to come with me to see NG in the morning-not for my protection, but because they get on well, and I'm hoping that a little social time without being 'relationship' time, might help a bit (Plus NG already bought in the beers, so it would seem a waste otherwise!). I still want the man in my life, but at the moment I can't quite see how that's going to be. Personal space is as much a friendship issue as it is in any other kind of relationship, so it's definitely going to need some thinking about. Then in the evening I'm due to be fetish clubbing with Mountain. At the moment, I'm looking forward to some much-needed catharsis.
Right now, anyway, the thing I need most is sleep, so I'll post this and get my head onto the pillow.

Fingers crossed it all looks better in the morning!

Red.

No Babies for me, Thankyou.

Two weeks ago I made the final decision on a thing that will probably affect me for the rest of my life, and by god it came as a relief.

At 25 I have been eligible to vote on the running of my country for seven years, able to drive for eight, and legally able to consent to sex for almost a decade, yet the final say on whether or not I reproduce was not in my hands up until a fortnight ago.

I have never been the maternal type. I was not the sort of little girl that played with dolls, pushed prams, talked to teddy bears. I was not the sort of teenager that fantasised about her ideal wedding, and two point four children. That part of my identity has always been very secure - I have no interest in passing on my genes.
I do, on the other hand, have a healthy sex drive, and an incurable interest in the opposite sex (believe me, I've tried!). Celibacy is not an option. So, from puberty onwards, contraception has been an increasingly important issue in my life. And an increasingly frustrating one.

My family are immensely fertile - both of my parents come from large families, including some 'happy accidents'. My mother was pregnant within days of coming off the contraceptive pill. My aunts, uncles and cousins have all produced children the minute they wanted to.
Whilst I have none of my own, I've never been in any doubt that I could conceive in minutes, were I inclined to, but I'm not, have never been, and believe I never will be.
I am also intensely opposed to the idea of accidental pregnancies. I don't believe that any child should be born as the result of a broken condom, or a missed pill. I also don't believe in abortion as a method of contraception. A last resort yes, and I would consider it kinder to my unborn potential child than my carrying it to term, but a plan I hope never to have to put into force.

On the other hand, I am in a small number of women who react badly to *every form of contraception on the market* and believe me, I am qualified to say that. Hormone treatments - the pill, implants, injections etc. have some very scary effects on my mood, leading me to antidepressants and worse before I realised what was at the root of the problem. (There are whole segments of my life that I can look back on and be amazed that I survived it, let alone achieved anything, while I was using them.)
I have expelled two coils, and had a third removed as an emergency. There have been other problems, other scares and other issues, and all the while I have known that I am going through all of these temporary measures for the one reason alone: The medical profession would not let me make the final decision.

It is fairly well known fact that the NHS will not sterilise women under 35, other than in extreme circumstances, and are loath to do it if she hasn't already had children. All very noble in intention, and very nanny state- they don't want any woman to make an irreversible decision that she may come to regret, but it leaves women like me in a hell of a bind.

It is a less well known fact that there are almost no organisations that will sterilise a woman under 25, even privately.

I was 23 when I started making formal enquiries. I had exhausted every available option, my primary relationship was under strain because of it. I was stressed, I was paranoid, but I was still reasoned and fair thinking, and I was willing to put up my own savings to pay for it.

I went through counselling and discussions with doctors, and jumped through all of the hoops that I was asked to, was deemed sane and eligible, and perfectly appropriate for the operation by all of the right people - except, importantly, the surgeon, and *still* was turned down, on no other grounds but my age.
I had been able to vote for five years, nearly six, driving for seven and sexually active for longer than that, and doctors left me to take risks with my relationship, my sanity and my health all because of a rule that said *they could say no* if they felt uncomfortable operating on me because of my age.

Two more years of agonising, paranoia, arguments and stress, and finally I turned 25 and hit the arbitrary age bracket where I could make the decision, and of course, I jumped at the chance, but they kept me guessing until the very last minute as to whether they would go through with it.

My confidence had been so knocked by my previous experience, I didn't dare guess at which way it would go.
I didn't mention it except to the people who really needed to know. My family were out of the loop, and most of my friends, because I just couldn't face talking to everyone about it knowing I might be turned down again.
I was prepared to write angry letters to the papers, to start campaigning and making a noise out in public if I was turned down again - anything better than collapsing in a miserable heap, after all, and where else could I go?

To my huge relief, they did go through with it, however. I have two small keyhole scars, which will probably disappear entirely over the next few months, a bit of tenderness in my belly, and a sense of an enormous weight having been lifted off my shoulders.

But I am still angry.
How dare these people dictate whether or not I am right to choose not to breed.
Who is anyone to tell me, as an adult, what I can and can't do with my body?
Why did I have to jump through any hoops at all, and why did I have to pay through the nose for my decision?
As a country we are overpopulated. As an individual, my decision to not have children means that the state will not have to pay for their education, I will draw no child benefit, no child tax credit, no maternity pay. I will spend more time working and therefore pay more tax, and the money I save by not spending it on little people, will no doubt cover the pension that the government won't be able to afford to give me when I'm over 65. My decision will save you money.

I'm not expecting everyone to agree with my choice, and I have nothing at all against people who do choose to be parents (in fact, I have an immense respect for people that do, and do it well), but I still feel that it should have been *entirely* my decision, and mine to choose from the minute I could legally consent to sex, not the best part of ten years later.
Surely it only makes sense - If a woman is qualified to make the decision to have sex, then shouldn't she also be qualified to decide what the outcome will be?*

Yours, vociferously,

Red.
x

*Yes, i know, there will probably be smart alecs telling me that the male has a say in these things as well, but sorry guys, until science comes up with a way for you to be carrying the child, I say the final decision can and should always rest with the woman.

____
In other news:

• Nice Guy has been fantastic in looking after me since my operation (thank you, monster!).
  
• I've come up on a compromise in the rooming situation, but it's left me with just a single bed for the moment, which is a slight pain.
  
• I have a possible engagement with Fetish Diva next week, and I am away for the weekend with Mountain & friends at a wedding.
  

- Life isn't perfect, but it's definitely worth celebrating!