I haven’t been to belly dance class since at least last summer, haven’t learned any new moves or choreographies, and have barely practiced on my own.

I told myself that “when everything was more under control”, that I’d go back.

Well, that “everything” got under some sort of “control”, but then recovering from that was exhausting, and then healing stuff that’s been askew in my life forever is too all over the place.

The thing is I know not to wait for life to get to back to “normal” before living it. I’m already living it, however it comes. Live it like I want it to be.

So when a buddy said, “Hey, let’s try this West African dance class,” I said, “Sure!”

Then followed a month of scheduling shenanigans, but tonight we made it.

Wow.

I’m often surprised at how embarrassed I am at how bad I can be at orchestrated dance. Part of me thought that since I’d been willing to make a fool of myself in another dance class, that I should have been fine with it tonight.

Apparently, a bad year resets my pride-o-meter.

The class was all levels, from me to folks who had been doing this style of dancing in Charlotte for 3+ years.

It was… so incredibly awkward. It was a simple dance. I generally understood the basics of what I needed to do (with the exception of turns–hard to see foot placement in a turn when you’re turning at the same time the teacher is), but things got very jangled when I tried to get my mind to send those signals to my body. Sometimes my mind went blank, sometimes it just took too long to send the message, and then I was behind.

It was bad enough that I ended up largely omitting the simple arm work to focus on the footwork.

The good dancers were quite inspirational. They took the simply-taught moves we’d learned and threw this incredible energy behind it. I was soon trying to exude a fraction of that energy in the simpler moves that I grasped better.

It was a big kick in the pants for me. I couldn’t really feel the joy I usually do when dancing tonight, but I recognized that joy on so many other people’s faces there. It doesn’t matter what my weight is, whether I’m good at the dance in question (although being competent helps), what my shoulder feels, or what the rest of my life is like. Dancing is how I make music real, and I miss it very, very much.

Related posts:

1. Um… jazz hands?
2. Addicted to dancing
3. Belly dance vs. Hip-hop: Inviting Failure

My colleague has picked a marathon… in Iceland. I need no such excuse–I’m just going to Iceland because it’s Iceland.

End of August, five nights, right before DragonCon. Lagoon and coastal tours are already planned, and restaurants are being picked.

I can’t even read the street names on the maps of Reykjavik. This is going to be awesome!

Related posts:

1. DragonCon, Morning One
2. DRAGON KAAAAAHN!
3. DragonCon–An Artful Success

Now for a downside of my APW 2013 experience: ableism.

I didn’t perceive very much physical ableism except for an awkward-as-hell “lame” reference in the closing ceremonies. I don’t think anyone even laughed. Then again, I know I’m also less sensitive to physical ableism than mental, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more.

For the mental ableism… it was everywhere. Therapists there used the word “crazy” and people talked about their “crazy, bipolar” exes. One person even said their ex was so crazy “they shouldn’t have been allowed to date.”

In one panel on anarchy and intentional communities (more on that in the next post), one person was particularly interested in sociopathy and sociopaths’ destructive ability — their almost-guaranteed tendency to leave a family in ruins. Indeed, one quote I have is that, “Some people are too crazy to be trusted not to destroy families.”

There was definitely a sense that if there were an “other” to be feared by everyone in the poly community with open relationships and/or kids, it was the “crazies”.

Even when working with a definition that all crazy means is either “not-normal” or “not within our [community's] bounds”, folks didn’t pipe up with compassionate, inclusive (“let’s change our bounds”), or rehabilitative thoughts. They made sure to distinguish “high-functioning” kinds of “crazy” from… less functional? (It was unclear why.) And to discuss how to identify, contain, expel, or avoid said folks.

It was both bizarre and (sadly) not. People who have strong mood swings are externally diagnosed as “bipolar”. People who won’t settle down or concentrate on one thing for as long as others would like are “ADD/ADHD”. Adult male-presenting people are pedophiles until proven otherwise.

People who hurt other people (through the above actions, perhaps) are “crazy”.

On one point, folks tended to agree: a way to help your chosen community and family remain healthy is to work out agreements of boundaries and how to handle crossed boundaries. This seems to be something that anarchists and other examiners/proponents of intentional societies have already figured out.

With this group, though (and particularly the person interested in sociopathy), it kept coming back to protections from a specific group: “crazy” people.

For all that it was common to hear diagnoses of “crazy” being thrown around, though, there were at least some friendlier uses of it. One presenter said, “We all love each other because we’re all crazy.” Still an othering statement (in the sense that the the monogamous parts of society are “normal”), but not, you know, relegating crazy people to not being allowed to date.

I was disappointed to see a crowd of generally loving and accepting people who seem to believe strongly in self-chosen definitions lapse into ableist rhetoric.

Given the fair amount of voiced anger against Christianity and monogamy-reinforcing structures in our society, I suspect it mostly comes from a place of hurt, but that, too, is a dangerous diagnosis.

Related posts:

1. APW 2013: Opening Ceremonies
2. APW 2013: Codependency and Identity
3. APW 2013: Degendering

I was utterly delighted at how many panels and discussions touched on questions of identity and codependence. I mean “identity” here as a self-discovery and self-listening process, rather than the external application of labels.

I’m early yet in my own exploration of codependence and the unhealthy behaviors I’ve harbored for many years. One of the things I’m focusing on is (re)discovering my own life patterns and identity. It’s a large component in why I moved into my own apartment.

When I saw a 5-7 adult family (with kids!) at APW, my first thought was, “Holy fuck, how do they stay themselves?”

Even with a full understanding that each person has a different tolerance for how much intermingling of identities with others is acceptable for them, I still had to wonder: seven noisy adults in a house, with kids. How do they maintain a sense of self among the chaos?

I don’t know. I didn’t ask, and they didn’t tend to be in the identity or codependence-related panels. Maybe they’ve got that mess on lock.

Sarah Olivia led an identity session, and Inara de Luna led a discussion on “polyamory and codependence”. Both gave me a lot of food for thought.

Sarah Olivia’s session focused on listening to yourself and remembering what you want. They told a story that highlighted the little ways we can lose ourselves: things like always saying, “I don’t know; whatever’s good for everyone else,” in response to, “What do you want for dinner?” Months and years of that, and you start to forget your own favorite places and pick your partners’ favorite places instead.

I was reminded of one of my sore spots that developed last year: my evening routine. Both D and Gregory liked to watch full 50-minute television shows or documentaries/movies while eating dinner. That meant that with cooking, the long show and eating, and any cleanup, “dinner” could last until at least 20:00 those nights. With a bedtime of roughly 22:00, that took up half my evening. Plus, the long time in front of a plate, not paying as much attention to my body and its hunger/fullness senses, led to me eating more.

It wasn’t how I wanted to be spending my evenings. If (!) I’m going to watch TV while I eat, I like a short show, and then to move on to the rest of my evening: coding, writing, communicating, exercising, whatever.

But about five nights a week, I acquiesced in order to spend time with them, in order to do things they liked. I didn’t want to deal with the pouts and complaints if I did anything different, so I partook. And that became my evening routine. Eventually, they were none the wiser that it still chaffed at times. Eventually, that dissatisfaction faded into the background to me, too.

After all, we do the things we want to be doing, right?

Olivia has us think of adjectives we’d've used to describe ourselves before we entered our relationships (poly or mono), and then to compare those (as much as was feasible, given the many years that may have passed) to our current state. I, of course, have lost a lot of my self-focus over the years, in my struggles to control the people around me.

It was such a calm, peaceful environment that I felt very comfortable speaking aloud on my own identity. We did the classic technique of sitting in a circle, and no one dominated or tried to control the discussion.

Inara de Luna’s discussion of codependency was equally comfortable. They’re much farther (time-wise) into their “recovery” journey (to use a 12-step term), and did an excellent job of focusing on the “me” parts of codependency.

I’m currently reading Codependent No More, which is an older book that comes at codependency from the 12-step approach, and works mostly with a definition of codependency as a coping mechanism that develops in response to having a relationship with a troubled/needy/dependent person, or as a way to cope with “the unwritten, silent rules that usually develop in the immediate family and set the pace for relationships” (page 33). Melody Beattie (the author) mostly examines spouses of alcoholics and drug addicts. Another prevailing theory focuses on partners of narcissists.

Beattie succeeds in not shifting blame to the alcoholics in their book, but there’s definitely an examination of the system in order to create awareness of an issue that the reader may be struggling to identify.

de Luna focused more on the individual. They’ve also read plenty more books on the topic than I have, and therefore have more sources to draw from in understanding the development and evolution of such systems.

Over the course of the weekend, I’d continued processing the fact that I was moving (despite having already taken over several carloads of boxes), and what I was accomplishing with that. By Sunday morning, when de Luna’s panel was held, I was able to talk some about the impact of both my emotionally unstable household and the effects of facing a second emotionally unstable household (my own, for the last four years): developing a coping mechanism that manifests in a lack of self-care and self-identity.

One of the important things de Luna brought up, though, is the difference between codependency and interdependence. Let’s say, for instance, that someone has a chronically injured shoulder (like me!). If you make an explicit and consenting arrangement with someone that you can freely or frequently ask for their assistance with things your shoulder makes difficult or dangerous (moving heavy things at or above shoulder height), then you have a healthy system of interdependence. That’s rather different than manipulating someone into helping you through unwritten rules.

I spent a fair amount of energy (for better or worse) in the last few months conjuring up ways I “should have” handled last year’s relationship. Healthier ways. Firmer ways. More self-caring ways.

It’s like when you think of that witty comeback too long after you’ve been dogged out by someone. Not useful in an external way, but still a way to process and check your learning.

This is an ongoing journey for me, and I think it’ll be a long one. I don’t even have a destination in mind, but the process is pretty clear for now: read, listen to myself, and take care of myself.

Related posts:

1. APW 2013: Opening Ceremonies
2. APW 2013: Degendering
3. Changing Greg’s Last Name: Easy-Peasy

Puck: Hi, I’m Puck.
Me: I’m Melissa.
Puck: What’s your preferred pronoun?
Me: Um? “She.”
Puck: Mine’s “they.”

I’ve never been asked my preferred pronoun before.

I attended an “Ask the Genderqueers” panel that featured someone who identified a pansexual, someone who identified as gender dysphoric (“drag queen in a woman’s body”), someone who identified as genderless, and someone who identified as trans. Those are just one label for each of them; they each used multiple.

They weren’t kidding around, they weren’t mocking themselves, and they were quite open in answering the group’s questions.

As I listened, I was reminded of when my world was less gendered than it is now. When individuals were “they”s by default instead of whatever of three fuzzy gender identities I place upon them. I’ve continued to rail actively against gender stereotypes and generalizations, but I don’t remember why I stopped using genderless pronouns and–more importantly–why I started assuming gender identity is visible.

“Degendering” is one of the most immediate take-always of the conference for me.

“Ze” and “ve” pronouns don’t roll off my tongue yet, and are particularly obvious in daily conversation. Of course, if those are someone’s preferred pronouns, then those I shall use.

I’m retraining myself to use “they” as my default pronoun, and am considering when the appropriate time and place is to ask people their preferred pronouns. Doing so at work seems like a whole bunch of awkward. I’m not courageous enough for that yet.

Doing so among my friends would be less complicated, and as I think about using my most conservative friend as a litmus test, I both look forward to and dread having a discussion of the broad nature of “gender” that goes beyond (and may not even include) what’s in one’s pants. Oh, and to work through “I know this one trans guy who does ‘x’” kinds of stories.

APW was a safe enough environment that it was comfortable to ask about preferred pronouns, aside from the newness of the idea.

My own gender identity is slowly shifting and morphing, but that’s not a journey ready for the public eye yet.

One of many things I realized as I watched the panel and interacted with the panelists outside of that panel is that the label of “genderqueer” seems like a big deal to take on. Being some thing that falls within genderqueer? Sure, that’s not so daunting to me. Labeling myself as such seems like a much bigger deal.

For all that it expresses one’s flexibility, it’s one of the more boxed-in labels I’ve encountered recently.

If you say you’re bisexual, you get asked how you could ever be monogamous (because we all know being attracted to people other than your partner means you’re going to cheat on them!). If you’re poly, people ask “how that works”. (“Quite lovely, when everyone’s where they want to be.”)

If you’re genderqueer, people want to know all about what feels “wrong” with your gender/sex/body/mind. (Which may, or may not, be the case; for the former, go play dys4ia by Anna Anthropy.) People want to know if there was some birth defect or if you have “malformed” sexual organs. For some eyebrow-lifting reading, check out Wikipedia’s coverage of the controversies surrounding “gender identity disorder”.

But while I ruminate on genderqueerism, one thing I know for sure is that none of your face, your body, your voice, your clothes, or your mannerisms tell me your gender. I’ve known that for years, but haven’t been living as if I did. Now I’m working on it.

Someday I’ll even get up the courage to ask relative strangers I meet what their preferred pronoun is.

Related posts:

1. APW 2013: Opening Ceremonies
2. DragonCon, Morning One
3. Weekly Linkage

Jackie wished she could have gone. She’s poly, too: she loves everybody.

APW–or “Ay Pee Dub”, as the kids say¹–is Atlanta Poly Weekend (SFW), and I went to it for $50 and half a hotel room.

Holy. Shit.

What I thought was going to be a pretty cool conference full of pretty cool panels and too-wild parties turned out to be a really friggin’ awesome conference with panels quite relevant to me and people I found pretty amazing. I didn’t end up going to any parties.

What I brought home from the conference is a boatload of thoughts, perspectives, and several new behaviors, some of which I want to write about in a little series:

1. Degendering
2. Codependency and Identity
3. (Mental) Ableism
4. Intentional Communities, Privilege, and Power
5. Poly Activism

I’ll update this post to include links to the future posts as they come out.

On a techie note, I wrote about how slick Guidebook seemed before the conference. Guidebook continued to be pretty awesome to use, but a scheduling change mid-morning of the second day of the conference couldn’t work its way to my phone. I got an error about being unable to get the “version” a couple of times, and the schedule never got corrected.

Since it was a small conference, they posted up wall schedules for folks without the app, which was fine enough. I also don’t know where the snafu was, on Guidebook or on how the organizers set up the schedule change, so I’m not particularly inclined to point fingers.

On a sweeter note, the conference turned out to be an event that let me and Gregory do what we do well: geek and reflect on intellectual and emotional stuff. There wasn’t a panel that didn’t spawn some sort of conversation, except for maybe the panel on activism.

In addition to mind-melding with Greg, I got to share stories with folks attending, as well as presenters, all of whom also attended panels. I sat in the lobby and talked with folks about their lives, whether and how they’re out to their colleagues and families, and various shenanigans from living polyamorously.

My worldview is enriched.

And now on to the series.

¹: No one says that.

Related posts:

1. Pleasant Mobile App: Guidebook
2. APW 2013: Degendering
3. APW 2013: (Mental) Ableism

I really, really hope DragonCon switches to Guidebook this year.

The conference this weekend is much smaller than DragonCon, but Guidebook is already a much smoother experience just for preplanning. The UI is clean and unbranded by the con itself, I can have multiple cons (or museums, or schools, or associations) in my guidebook without having to have separate apps for each. It’s quick and easy to see my personal schedule, and the app is fast and feels lightweight.

I want to see more apps this cleanly designed.

Related posts:

1. APW 2013: Opening Ceremonies
2. DRAGON KAAAAAHN!
3. A touch of blackness and a slathering of iPhone

And here you all probably thought I was kick-ass assertive 24/7.

One of the things I’ve been considering for a while–thanks, Ethical Slut–is the idea of couples living separately. Unmarried folks do it all the time, but there’s that ticking clock of “when are you moving in together” that runs right alongside the “when are you getting married” clock.

And married couples living separately? Whoo, they must be one one step from divorce. Literally, in fact, since North Carolina requires a year of official separation before you can divorce.

My new bedroom!

Have I mentioned that about a third of my current apartment (now Greg’s) is shrouded in sunlessness all the time? And it’s the bedroom, which has thrown off my waking for the last near-year.

I’m heading to Atlanta for a conference this weekend, so I’ll be piecemeal-moving this week and next, then probably renting a truck for my few large items the weekend of the 24th.

I’m feeling a lot of anxiety about this. Despite my resolve and the words above, I’ve been on an incredibly painful road this last year. I’ve been driven to brinks I didn’t know I could be before I was able to get help and to help myself.

My new kitchen!

For me.

We are still together. We are still a “couple”. We still have love and take joy in each others’ presence.

We just don’t live together anymore.

Related posts:

1. Beach, With (Body) Mods
2. Living Room Redesign
3. The Wedding

Guess I shouldn’t have done those other two runs and the two yoga sessions that week.

Out of fear that I might have a small fracture situation, I went to urgent care yesterday. The initial read of the X-ray didn’t show a fracture, so we’re assuming it’s “just” a sprain at this point.

Ligaments are creepy.

Unfortunately, that means no running, no lower-body weight-lifting, no yoga for at least two weeks. Which is pants.

I’m in an aircast at the moment, and that feels so much better. It requires a bit of contortionism to keep my foot at waist-level at work, but I’m all about some pillows at home. Gives me more excuse to watch live Doom 2 and Borderlands 2 play/speedruns.

Related posts:

1. Months of 5′s, 3′s, and 1′s
2. 6.25 miles: The Longest Run Evar
3. A Month of 5/3/1

I took ‘em back on Saturday, tried back on the Brooks PureDrifts, and hopped on the treadmill in the store a longer run than the jaunt I’d given them before…

And then nearly got dizzy from my own swimmy pronation.

Unsurprising, I suppose. The Drifts have negligible support, and I’ve been running in conventional shoes for as long as I’ve been running. I suspect the running store people were being kind when they said I only had a slight pronation in my left foot when I run bare, but I’ve never felt that level of pronation when running barefoot. *shudder*

I was pretty set on the 4mm drop idea, though. That part of all of these shoes felt amazing, including in the Minimuses (Minimi?). Given the pronation problem, I tried (again) the firmer, more supporting Brooks PureCadence, and they felt quite good on the treadmill, and quite good on my Sunday run. My legs were sore from squats on Saturday, but I got my time in on the streets. The shoes aren’t nearly as cute as either the Minimuses or the Drifts, though.

Unfortunately, I twisted my ankle in the warmup to my Sunday run. I walked it off and made it through the run, yoga, and errands, but settling down that evening let the pain set it. Today, I’m in an Ace bandage.

We’ll see if I make it out on my run tomorrow.

Related posts:

1. Mama’s Got New Shoes
2. All 5 of Dem There K’s
3. The Post-5k Training Gap