Dear Ruth,

How dare you avoid me?

(This is a real question, really, how did you do it? Sometimes I want to avoid myself)

I do not want to talk about my trip to Colombia on this letter because that is going to be a really long story and it has a sad ending. I rather rant to you about marriage today and leave the immigrant rant for another letter (it’s coming though, I got so much bitching to do)

I want to respond to your question of getting ownership of your feelings and thoughts. I absolutely think you can, but it is not going to be fun. First of all, I am polyamorous. I cannot really relate to the idea of jealousy in romantic relationships. What are you jealous of? What are you worried about? That they’d leave you? That someone prettier would come around? I don’t get it man. I do know about trust in relationships. Relationships are based in decisions. People wake up every day and choose to stay with YOU. You don’t own Elise, she can look at whom she pleases and talk to whom she pleases. She can wake up tomorrow and say: FUCK THE LEASE! I AM OUT! But she has not. And she may never do that. You just have to accept that she chooses you every day and will continue to do so until she wants to. You cannot win her over, you cannot earn love. This is not a competition: you vs all other gayz. This is a partnership.

Whenever you feel jealous, count the days that Elise has chosen you. The times she has gone out of her way to please you, say thank you to the universe for ten things she has done that make you happy. By the time you are done, you won’t remember what you were jealous about.

Trust is not never being jealous. Trust is getting past those fears and insecurities and knowing they’d choose you again.

We are just so different Ruth. Like I cannot comprehend the way you think about marriage as security. My parents are married to this day and it has brought nothing but unhappiness to each other and their children. A lease, a marriage contract, paper and more paper. I can relate to the thought of “I choose this person to be my closest of kin” , this makes sense to me. The way you list an emergency contact on forms and applications. You have someone. In this sense, I get your idea of marriage. You have someone, undoubtedly. It is the certainty that they have your best interest and your happiness in mind.

But this statement I have a problem with “This person is my anchor. This person is my home”

It mostly has to do with my growing up without a family or an anchor or a “home”; feeling still like home is a foreign concept that may never make sense to me. When I broke up with my ex, I went through a whole process of re-accepting this “homelessness”. And I came across this poem:

you can’t make homes out of human beings

someone should have already told you that

and if he wants to leave

then let him leave

you are terrifying

and strange and beautiful

something not everyone knows how to love.

By Warsan Shire (here’s the whole poem)

So what happens if the anchor lifts? You drift. What happens if you want to navigate away from port? The anchor holds you back. I am not okay with this. I am the captain of my soul (also a poem).  I have had too many “homes” to believe that they would last more than five years. I promise, I am not cynical. I am actually very romantic. But as a friend, I want you to go into this thinking:

a new contract every day, a decision every day.

Trace and I are coming onto a one year anniversary of our very first date. I have never been with anyone so different to myself. Half the time, I am almost certain they would leave. And I am surprisingly okay with it. They have been consistently around for the last five months and have made me very happy. We have had conversations about moving in together and marriage and such. We agreed to seriously revisit the concept when we have been together for a year.

I am doing better in terms of stress (or trying) the game plan was to reduce the number of commitments I currently have and make alone time to recharge and recover. It has worked well so far. I had a very abusive roommate (he’s a little psycho though, like not all there) who harassed me on text every day and yelled at my guests and threatened to have me evicted (after I gave moving notice). It was making me feel very unsafe, called 911 several times. This was definitely not helping my stress levels. But now I have moved and I am pleased
with my apartment, I have more space and more privacy and no harassment whatsoever. My biggest problem is Toby pooping in the house, but currently working on that. 

I am also making a fairy garden in the small yard we have in the back. Its going to be so beautiful. I will send pictures when it’s done.

I cut my hair recently, what do you think?

Thank you for putting up with my weirdness. I will write to you again about Colombia, and privilege and goals and being an immigrant. It’s on my mind right now but too stormy to make a decent post out of it.

Love,

Nora

PS. Yorkies are perfect. Great for allergies, small and well behaved. I approve.