Someone ripped my house up by the foundation and set it adrift in the ocean

I haven't blogged in ages. Not because I haven't wanted to... more because things were going very well... so well in fact that writing about them here, in this pseudo anonymous space would have felt a little shallow. A little reductive.  Poly things took off. I've somehow found myself living in a world where I can have a Fiance and another romantic partner at the same time.  Many joy. Very magic. Wow.

I came out to my mother about us opening our relationship, and how much of a spectacularly positive thing that has been for me and the Fiance. My mother said all the right things. Gave all the right kinds of support. She sent us a book about love. She said she'd let me know when she was ready to get pictures or talk to the Fiance or hear more so my news could be "really real" for her. Many joy. Very magic. Wow.

Then Fiance came out to his dad and stepmom. And they did not say all the right things. Did not give all the right support. They raised issues and complaints and concerns about me, about the very nature of our relationship, and none of that was expected. It's ripped a crack in something very foundational in me, and I'm sort of set adrift now. For a little while after hearing about their conversation, I felt like my life, all of it, was over. I felt like my marriage was over before it'd even started.  It's been a shattering few days. I'm barely holding it together. But I'm working on it. I came back from a breakdown that had me collapsed on the floor making terrifying animal noises in record time, and I'm researching therapists, and I am working hard not to close up and lock everything down in my brain again. Keep the protective walls at maybe waist high instead of going up to the sky. Some minutes I'm fine. Some minutes I'm strong, and I have my feet under me. But then some minutes I'm just crumpled in a corner crying.

Like now.

Last night I dreamed.  And the symbols in the dream were so obvious... so transparent... that I couldn't have made them more plain if I were a bitter, disenfranchised high school student with a creative writing assignment.

In my dream, someone ripped my entire house out by its foundation and used a couple boards like a lever to shove it into the ocean before anyone could react, setting it adrift at sea with me still inside. I was angry and I was scared and I was bitter. It was some kind of twilight. Like just after sunset. Visibility was bad. Waves were relatively calm though. There was no wind, but the white foam when waves broke on the beach were like reminders of past and future storms.  The house floated upright, and I had some amount of confidence that it would hold, but not for long. Only for as long as my anger held and I kept my wits.

I looked over the edge of my roof, or perhaps out a window, and I could see sharp and jagged rocks just under the surface of the water, but I was smart enough to know how to time the movement of the house so that a swell could carry it over the top of them. Get us to a place where we wouldn't be in immediate danger. I felt clever. But it felt like triage. I'd saved us for this moment, but at a cost.

Now we were out in deeper waters, with those sharp rocks between us and safety.  There's no way to get back to the same solid ground we came from. So I started scanning the coastline, found we were in some kind of bay. There's a peninsula made of... paper I think, to our right. It's hard to see it in the dusk. And I have no way to steer the house there. And if we made it, the new coastline might actually be made of paper anyway and sink the second we tried to land.  I knew we needed to find a new place to be. But I didn't know how. We needed help.

Someone (a version of me?) wanted to jump overboard with a vague rationale of paddling or pushing the house by hand back to shore or swimming back to land by herself and running away.  I don't know if I told her no (I wanted to). I don't know if she jumped. But I remember thinking it was a stupid idea and would get her killed.

Sometimes dreams are nonsense. And sometimes they are just straight-up re-tellings of your emotional state.  Which I guess can be cathartic. I guess this can be therapeutic. Writing about it now feels good.  Makes me feel a little better.

I feel like this dream is a way all the different versions of me in my head (and I've got a lot of them) are trying to affirm to me that they know how I feel. They understand what I'm going through. And they are doing their part to process things, use the machinery of my brain and all the symbols at its disposal to just "be with me" and empathize. 

Or something. I don't really know how to end this blog post... there's no wrap-up. No moment where I land on something hopeful right now. Except to reassure you (and myself) that I am okay. I'm going back to work today after the long holiday break. And I've gotten replies and referrals from several kink and poly friendly therapists. That's not nothing. But I know that I will not be able to see my Fiance's dad or stepmom again for a long time.