How Polyamory Helped Me Love Myself Better

As Valentine’s Day approaches, I’ve been thinking a lot about the joy of queer love and how grateful I am for its abundance in my life. In preparation for Valentine’s Day I’ve put Valentine surprises in the mail to my long-distance partners, and I am preparing to take myself (and my dogs) on a Valentine’s weekend date. I try to treat myself as an important partner, not just paying lip service to self love but manifesting it everyday and especially on holidays. Some people see the amount of time I am physically alone and assume I must be lonely, but in reality, even though I’ll be spending the holiday physically on my own, I have never felt more connected, more centered, loved, or had a deeper sense of self-love than I am experiencing in my life now—and I have polyamory to thank for that.

For me, queerness and polyamory have always been linked. When I first came out as queer as a teenager and became active in punk queer arts communities, polyamory was the norm. I knew people who were monogamous, but they were few and far between. The idea that one person couldn’t, and shouldn’t, be expected to meet all of your needs just made sense to me.

Polyamory, or ethical non-monogamy, is all about building a life around loving and having relationships with multiple people at the same time. Over the past 25 years, the kinds and number of relationships I have been in have ebbed and flowed, but what has remained consistent through love and heartbreak has been the belief that, for me, polyamory was meant for me. When I first came out as polyamorous I was incredibly insecure as a person and it wasn’t until my self-confidence skyrocketed in my 40s that I was able to attract the kinds of relationships I had been craving and manifesting with others, and, most importantly, with myself. 

A Recommitment to A Polyamorous Lifestyle 

A couple of years ago, I went through an unexpected and messy queer divorce that led me to question everything about the way I live my life. It was an opportunity to rediscover and recommit to who I really am and the life I want to be living.  While I was in no hurry to get into any kind of relationship again, I spent time examining if I still wanted to live a polyamorous life—I did. At this moment in my life, I valued myself more than I ever had, and that meant getting to pick the kind of future I wanted, one not rooted in someone’s domestic fantasy that was never mine. I wanted to have a home collaged in art and to sleep alone most nights, piled under my dogs.

There is a frequent assumption that polyamory is a lifestyle of extroverts, and while I do know many extroverted polyamorous folks, being extroverted isn’t a requirement, or even necessarily the norm. I am an extreme introvert, known by my favorite people as a bit of a hermit. I am eccentric and love spending time alone reading, making art, and playing with my dogs. Not only does polyamory give me a way to center the kind of queer, nontraditional relationships I’m most attracted to, but it allows me to stop trying to live a life that other people approve of, and it gives me a level of self-confidence I never thought possible.

Now, over two years out from my divorce, I feel grounded, settled, and joyful. I came through that process spending a lot of time alone, and realizing how happy and fulfilled that made me. If I am going to spend time with other people, which takes time away from my art and hobbies, those interactions need to be rewarding. In this new version of my life and with the encouragement of those closest to me, I became very clear about what I did and didn’t tolerate or allow to remain in my orbit when it comes to interactions with other people, romantic or platonic. I now know without a doubt that my boundaries and expectations are not unrealistic. My growing self-confidence convinced me of my worth, and I’m unwilling to settle for anything less.  

I’m lucky enough to live in Portland, Oregon, which is known for its queerness. In fact, I recently bought a bumper sticker for my car that says “Portland: you don’t have to be polyamorous to live here but it helps.” This is of course a funny joke, but there is truth to it. When I talk about being polyamorous, I’m seldom met with even a raised eyebrow, even in otherwise straight spaces. When my partners come to visit, we can all hug and kiss at the airport with barely a second glance, or go out to dinner, and our throuple is assumed and recognized.  

A Polyamorous Hermit 

Since I started publishing novels in my twenties, having ample time and space to creatively focus is a priority for how I live my life. Prioritizing a relationship with myself means that I have significant time daily to focus on the relationship I have with my art. Polyamory gives me the space and language to not just love multiple partners, but also to be my own partner, where I can prioritize my art, and also my hobbies and passions. Nobody in my life feels left out, instead they are cheering me on and excited for me to have these priorities as they devote time to other partners, work, and hobbies of their own.  

Polyamory has given me the language, space, and framing to literally have it all. Sometimes this looks like a one-off hookup or other casual connection as opportunity presents itself and have that be cheered on by those closest to me. But it also looks like having deeply committed loving partners who can be daily connected with me and who factor into big life decisions I’m making. Polyamory also means thinking of myself as one of my partners, happily living alone with my dogs and prioritizing a life of frequent solitude and artistic commitment in my day to day life. I’m seldom lonely, but frequently physically alone and have never been happier, because it gives me the time and space to pursue the activities that make me feel the most fulfilled.

Pride In My Life and Love for Myself

For a while, in past relationships, I lost sight of how queer I wanted my life to be, falling into patterns that fit other people’s ideas of relationship structures. But once those relationships ended, and I rediscovered myself and recommitted to polyamory my way, I found playful joy and increased confidence in who I am and the life I live. Although there was a time I brought insecurity to the table, those days are long gone. Polyamory allows me to show up for those who I love as the best version of myself. I am deeply committed to the people I bring into my inner circle platonically and romantically, and I now treat myself, my art, and my passions the way that I expect others to treat me. I won’t compromise my interests for someone else’s schedule, and I’ve built relationships with people who wouldn’t want me to and in fact enthusiastically encouraged me to write more stories, enter more dog shows, and do more of the things that make me happy.  

What first drew me to polyamory as a young queer punk was the ability to architect a relationship that fit the queer life I imagined. We weren’t recreating the relationships we saw on TV or in our families of origin; we were building something uniquely us, and unapologetically queer. Ultimately, queerness and polyamory have helped me to feel deeply at home in my own life. Since I showed up fully and unapologetically as myself, I’ve never been happier, loved harder, or been loved better. Being my own valentine doesn’t mean I’m lacking love from others, far from it! Polyamory means having the capacity for loving multiple people. It took me 25 years of practicing the lifestyle, but I finally fully and completely understand that this means not just loving others, but also loving myself, and finding ways to prioritize my own joy like I would any of my partners.