Rock climbing and relationship anarchy

I’ve taken up rock climbing. One of the things I wanted to do (post-divorce) was try new things. So much of being a couple felt restrictive in the sense that there was this pressure to do things together and if the things I was interested in were not of interest to my partner, they would fall to the wayside in favor of things that were more appealing to my other half. I met a friend who is into rock climbing and I have been going with her. Learning how to belay (ie. Hold the rope for someone else while they climb and ensure they don’t die). Taking classes at a very diversity friendly gym and really just enjoying learning to use my body in a new way. This is where most of my mental energy has diverted to and thus, less dating thoughts and more thoughts about that. Also looking into self-defense classes so that when I do start dating I won’t need to carry a weapon because I’ll be the fucking weapon.

 

The rest of my time is spent reading thriller novels. Voracious reader over here. Also been doing some personal introspection (though that isn’t really a new phenomenon). 

 

My ex said I should talk to a therapist. I can proudly say I spoke with one last week and she said I sound like I don’t need a therapist. According to her, I sound like my “shit is together”. It was nice to get some external validation on that. I’ll be making a couple of follow up appointments as well, just to tune up what needs tuning up and to explore some of the things that I have been thinking about recently.

 

One of the concepts I’ve stumbled across is this idea of “Relationship Anarchy”. Definitely need to read up more on it but what I’ve gathered is that it is a way of engaging in intimate relationships anti-hierarchically. Think polyamory but with more autonomy. 

 

I’ve always felt that we all have these parts of ourselves (buckets, if you will) and that expecting one person to fill all of your buckets (be they intellectual, emotional, physical etc) is not only asking way too fucking much but also setting everyone up for failure. I think that, realistically, it is unlikely that I can fulfill all of the needs of another person and to think that I can would be hubris. Even if I could, I am certain that some of these needs and wants would be a stretch for me. In some instances, meeting the needs of another would come at sacrificing some of my needs/wants. None of that interests me. I am not the end all/be all for anyone, nor do I want someone else to feel the pressure to be that to me.

 

This idea of “compersion” is really interesting as well. Deriving joy from watching my partner experience joy from another relationship. This idea of “wholehearted participation in the happiness of others”

 

Thinking back, I realize that monogamy has felt most important to me when I am insecure about the foundation of my relationship. As I have grown older, it became apparent that if the foundation isn’t solid, no amount of monogamy or exclusionary behavior is going to save the relationship. 

 

Historically the beginning of committed relationships always felt like a struggle for me. Discomfort and anxiety would sit with me for 2 weeks to 2 months. This feeling of being constrained and claustrophobic. Once the relationship ends, after the sadness and grieving would come this lightness. An ability to breathe once again stemming from being able to move through the world unencumbered by the expectations of another person. 

 

This is not to say that monogamy isn’t great for some. Just that to me it feels limiting and almost like a betrayal of myself. I want to unabashedly pursue happiness, wherever that should take me and cannot see myself being in a monogamous relationship and still feeling free. I don’t believe that love is a finite resource. Love begets love and I can give and receive love infinitely. 

I think that as we age, we must be committed to following our emotional and spiritual growth, even if it requires the deconstruction of things we have built so that we can reshape them into things that meet our needs. Life's simply too short.