I am launching two new things today! The first is my chapbook, the details of which are below, and the second is a Patreon page, which exists to support my writing. Depending on the tier, patrons can get access to my zine, chapbook, works in progress, details about my writing process, and other bonus content.
This means that you now have two options for accessing my zine/chapbook, either by purchasing them through PayPal or by becoming a patron! Let me know if you have any questions about this here.
What does it mean to be the 26-year-old editor of your 17-year-old self? What does it mean to come back, years later, and publish something never meant to be shared? Can modern-day me consent to publish past me? I suppose I’m going with yes.
17.22.750 is a 35+ page chapbook comprised of approximately 750-word entries I wrote at the ages of 17, 22, and 26. It is about growing up and having lots of questions. These younger versions of me navigate school, work, relationships, heartbreak, existentialism, gender, sexuality, in addition to fear and excitement over an always unknown future. Originally private entries written on 750words.com, from high school to university to adulthood, I spill out the clutter in my head with stark honesty.
Last night I dreamt that my partner slept with two other people but had my blessing to do so. Last night I dreamt that someone else tried to sleep with me and I said, “Wait, hold on, I need to check with my partner first”.
They responded with, “Your partner is so controlling”.
Last night I dreamt that other polyamorous people told me I’m not doing it right, that “real poly” means just sleeping with whoever whenever and not having to tell your partner anything. I know some people do it this way. I also know this isn’t the only way to do it, but clearly, my subconscious is struggling with the idea that I’m somehow “doing it wrong”. I’ve been grappling with nonmonogamy for awhile. I’m not totally sure how to go about it, what parameters to set, and how to put it into action. On the one hand, I like having the option to engage in romantic and/or sexual relationships with other people. On the other, I’m not sure if I have the time/energy/emotional capacity for a whole other relationship. Do I want multiple relationships or one primary one with more “casual” encounters outside of that? Do I want to explore nonmonogamy, an open relationship, or polyamory? And what exactly do all of these mean?
Nonmonogamy is stressful. Monogamy is also stressful.
Monogamy stresses me out because it doesn’t feel quite right to me, doesn’t fit quite naturally. It feels like a lot of pressure, like this person is now the only person and that’s it and you will never get to explore anyone else. Nonmonogamy gives me the space to breathe. I don’t have to feel guilty about liking other people. It takes the pressure off of a single relationship and allows me to feel more at ease, more myself, but it also has its stressors: fear, jealousy, complication, worry, what if my partner leaves me? I mean, that could happen in a monogamous relationship as well, but the fear with nonmonogamy is more like, “What if my partner finds someone better and leave me?”
A friend of mine said recently,
“If anything, nonmonogamy makes it less likely that your partner will leave because their interest in another doesn’t have to lead to the end of your relationship”.
There’s some truth to that.
I also struggle with jealousy and that makes me feel gross. I’ve been working on it, though. I’ve been reading, writing, and watching videos. I found this one couple on YouTube who discuss how they both used to be jealous people and what they did to work through that. It’s been helpful. It’s good to know that there’s nothing wrong with feeling this way, it’s all about what you do with the feelings and how you process them. For me, jealousy is usually an “animal brain” response to a perceived threat, i.e. my partner is going to abandon me, I’m not good enough, I’ll never compare to so-and-so, and on. The couple I found talk about jealousy as a perceived “lack,” like the jealous person is feeling a lack in themselves somewhere, like they are not good enough, not enough for their partner, do not have as much love as their partner, etcetera. I believe I’ve struggled with these lackluster lack feelings as well.
I’m scared I’m not enough in a hundred different ways and that it’s just a matter of time before my partner sees that too.
It’s strange because, on my end, I can clearly see how my interest in someone else has nothing to do with my partner or our relationship. It does not threaten it at all. It is not a comment on a lack in what we have. It is completely separate. Love and desire are not limited resources, and my interest in someone else does not diminish or devalue the love and desire I have for my partner. The logical brain gets that, even the heart brain does. It’s the animal brain that struggles, the fear-based response, the child self, the traumatized self (for they are all wrapped up together). That’s what I have to watch out for.
In thinking about and processing my jealousy, I have found its roots. It is a secondary emotion, you see, like anger, and so it has hidden roots in other emotions underneath—fear, sadness, anxiety, insecurity, helplessness. In working through my jealousy, I have also begun to feel what might be the beginnings of compersion, the joy one feels in response to another’s happiness. There isn’t just the capacity for jealousy within me but also the capacity for desire and happiness at the thought of my partner being with someone else. These are new and interesting feelings I’d like to explore further.
I believe I have two selves, two attachment styles. One is secure. They are mature. They feel safe, loved, and free. They have the capacity for compersion. The other is anxious-preoccupied. This is the wounded child self, the traumatized self. They are anxious, fearful, and insecure. They are the one that struggles with jealousy and they do so because they are afraid. I can’t erase this side of me, ever, they will exist always. What I can learn to do, however, is take care of them.
I need to train the secure self on how to hold and reassure the anxious self when they feel threatened.
I need to be honest about their existence—I cannot repress or deny or shame them. I need to be honest with myself, my partner, and whoever else I may get involved with about this side of me. I need to take care of them so that they do not reign uncontrolled, wreaking havoc on my relationships.
I’ve gone on a few dates so far. Aside from that, while technically nonmonogamous, my partner and I have been functionally monogamous. I want to change that. I want to take the next step. I’m scared. Even doing the work, I’m scared. My animal brain tells me that if one of us sleeps with someone else, that’s it, it’s over, it’ll all blow up. We so often see representation in the media of this being the thing that automatically ends romantic relationships. Logical and heart brain know that this isn’t true, but that doesn’t make the fear go away. I have to be with the fear, ride it out, and see where it takes me. Closer to myself, I hope. Closer to my partner. Closer to compersion. Closer to love.
This 30+ page e-zine is about being non-binary and the politics of passing, transitioning, and sex. The poems and essays within capture different stages of my transition, beginning with my coming out process in 2015 and then focusing on my first year of hormone therapy. Much of the content is raw, painful, and difficult to share. I open up about my struggles as a non-passing non-binary person with the medical system, dating, sex and desirability, taking hormones, transphobia, gatekeeping, gender expression, and more.
I have set the price of this e-zine at $5.00. If this is a barrier for you, please contact me to work something else out. Preference will be given to other trans folks and people looking to use it for educational purposes.
I think I use new romantic relationships to satiate my wanderlust, my desire to travel and move and change and experience. I move through a new relationship like a tourist travelling through a city, seeking out all the recommended places. I hit the pavement every day, spending twelve or more hours learning about what she has to offer. Then, at the end of the week, I pack up my suitcase, get on a train, and unceremoniously move on to the next destination. I may think about her again, I may write about her too, but our time together is up. It has served its purpose. I’ve learned everything that there was to learn, right?
Well, I got the tourist experience but I’ll never know what it’s like to be a local. In my romantic endeavours, I typically develop a tourist’s understanding of the other person, a surface understanding largely made up of what was put on display with a few quirks thrown in for good measure, and then I move on. I’ve only done the local experience once before when my partner and my home were one and the same. That was interesting, but it was a lot, and it’s incredibly rare that I meet someone who makes me want to go there—to immigrate, if you will.
You can’t really say that you know a place when you only know it as a tourist. Moving through the world, and your relationships, as a tourist can be fun but it’s not sustainable long-term. Eventually, I will need a home. And as much as I enjoy travelling, I know that I am capable of building one. It will be a lot of work, but I am more than willing to work as long as I am able to take the next step, which would be visiting a place and realizing that I’d rather stay on than catch the next train.