I have recently been coming to terms with certain feelings I have; not a shift in my ethos, rather a realization of it’s depth.
For years I have wrestled with definitions and demarcations; nomenclature and identity. Labelling excluded other possibilities. Setting boundaries would mean having to expand them. Associating risked pigeon-holing and ridicule.
Overcoming self-doubts, learning who I am, and discovering my desires; it is a long, never-ending process. I believe I have come to a crux on my journey however. I have confidence that I can settle on one word which encompasses my beliefs, self-expression, and emotions.
In other words, I love everyone. Anything less and I would be lying to myself, and everyone around me.
The trickiest part of claiming to be such a thing, is knowing what I mean, and do not mean, by it. Being a bastard child of Greek and Latin roots (as is polyamory), there is no dictionary definition for the word. As complex as such an idea happens to be, in my opinion the word used to describe it is actually self-limiting. It deals only with love. It does not deal with, among other things: my gender, who I am attracted to in a sexual manner, the depth of my relationships, the number of concurrent relationships I have, my living arrangements, nor my marital status. Again, it deals solely with love.
A question that you as a reader might be asking right now, is “Why Pat, would you care about defining your love?”. I feel that as something so important to my core self, to my being and existence, there must be a name for it. I have such an outpouring of love that to not name it, to not allow myself to live it to the extent of it’s capacity, deeply affects me. While it doesn’t solve any of the societal issues caused by having the capability of loving a number of people in a manner that extends beyond friendship, nor the marital issues caused by the desire to dedicate myself to more than one person at a time, it does allow me to tell everyone I co-exist with, that I love them.
I love you.