I'm trying to cultivate more freedom in my relationship
here's how it's going
“I’m poly”, I told Khara on our first date in a dingy Bushwick bar decorated with plastic dollar store flowers and dusty Christmas lights. It was the kind of place that could only exist pre pandemic before the virus overwhelmed hole-in- the-wall NYC establishments with weakened immunity to late stage capitalism.
I took a swig of my shot of soju (no liquor license) waiting for their response. Cool, was all they said.
I didn’t want to like Khara too much. Fresh off a heartbreak a few months earlier, I told myself i could stay emotionally safe by maintaining independence. I used the label of poly as a kind of shield: this can only go so far. At the time, I didn’t understand that non monogamy doesn’t automatically equate to non commitment.
Months later, it was me asking Khara for commitment and monogamy. I was in love and I didn’t want to lose them. So I thought, I must create a protective bubble for the relationship, a cocoon of emotional safety. Was this the end of my independence? That became less important. Because we were a unit. Our partnership was my new family. And with it—all the baggage.
I grew up in a strict and sheltered home that was very enmeshed emotionally. And then when I came out at 15 and my parents rejected me, that betrayal created a deep fear of being abandoned by people who I love.
So when it came to romantic partnerships in my 20s and early 30s, everything was very black and white. We were either together and totally enmeshed (lest I get triggered you might leave me) or we had an emotionally distant sexual connection while I kept one foot out the door. I never experienced a romantic relationship where I felt loved and maintained a sense of autonomy. I didn’t even know what that looked like.
Years later, when Khara and I moved to upstate New York, I encountered an existential catharsis of sorts working on my book. Writing about your healing journey is like watching a documentary about the making of a film. You can more clearly recognize the inciting incidents, the character development, the plot points, and I realized (even more than I had already realized from years of therapy) that my fears of being unlovable still dictated how I behaved in my relationship. And a clarity came into focus that I wanted more autonomy in my marriage but was deeply afraid to ask for it.
Some examples: I wanted to have my own social life and friend group that Khara wasn't part of. I wanted a space in our house that was just for me, to write undisturbed with decorations of my choosing. I wanted to go on solo trips and to save money for my own writing retreats. Most of all, I wanted a full on audit to reexamine the structure and boundaries of our relationship. But all these desires brought up feelings of guilt and worries that asking for change would make Khara feel rejected and in turn, they would pull away from me.
You have to understand that my partner never said I couldn’t have any of these things. My assumptions that I couldn’t ask for them was me unconsciously reenacting my childhood where I would get “in trouble” for wanting what I wanted, and my desires would lead to rejection. I didn’t think I could be my full authentic self and still be loved.
I finally got the courage to come clean to Khara and (in what should have not been a surprise) Khara also wanted similar changes. We both realized we had these unspoken rules about what we assumed was ok with each other before we actually had a conversation. Those assumptions were based on the past and we were ready for a more expansive experience.
Therapists often relay the story of how small children at the playground will run off to play and then look back to make sure their parent or guardian is still there. After having affirmed it, they will keep running further away, secure that their home base will be there when they return.
The message being that the more safe you feel, the more freedom you can access.
Creating autonomy in partnerships requires seeing your partner as an independent person who exists beyond the role they fill in your life. It requires having an identity independent of your relationship. A healthy and happy relationship makes room for time spent apart as separate humans with separate relationships, separate desires and even privacy. But that doesn’t mean throwing out boundaries or not being able to depend on each other. It means communicating more and assuming less. It means cultivating trust that even when you are physically distant, you are still close.
Ironically, when you don’t nurture autonomy in a relationship it can lead to resentment and even more distance because an essential part of you feels neglected within the partnership. The time you spend together becomes more quantity than quality.
It’s at this point that many people feel they can’t change within their relationship. they might have to leave their partner in order to get “back in touch” with themselves. And more often than not, they repeat the same patterns in new relationships. Because they still haven’t learned to do both: remain true to their who they are independent of a relationship while at the same time loving and supporting another human being. No easy feat.
We weren’t taught how to have a healthy relationship. We weren’t taught that wanting to maintain a sense of autonomy in a partnership was a valid need. We were told that in order to be complete, we needed another person. And then we wonder why so many people in relationships feel like they can’t grow with their partner.
These days khara and I spend a lot more time apart and intentional time together. We have separate friend groups, although there is overlap. We have continual conversations about renegotiating boundaries with other people and implementing changes to the structure of our relationship. Sometimes these conversations are triggering because