In “Exploring Solo Polyamory” (Episode 5, Season 3 of The Soul’s Work Podcast) I responded to some of the most common questions, and often misperceptions, I get about polyamory and solo polyamory.
Almost two years into my exploration of solo polyamory (a.k.a. solo poly or SoPo), I’m revisiting some of those top questions/misperceptions here on the blog.
In part 1 of this post, “Practicing Solo Polyamory (Part 1): On Jealousy, Commitment, and ‘Why Solo Poly?’”, I shared the reasons I continue to explore solo poly, how I’ve dealt with jealousy in dating people who date other people, and how SoPo doesn’t mean a lack of commitment.
Here, in part 2, I’m responding to the (mis)perception “You must have gotten really hurt in relationships to be doing solo polyamory."
If you want to hear my responses to all 9 common questions and misperceptions about solo polyamory/polyamory, catch the episode here:
- Why did you decide to explore polyamory?
- Solo polyamory sounds like dating with no commitment.
- How many people would you be seeing at one time?
- What if you want more (from your already married partner)?
- Don’t you ever get jealous?
- Maybe you just haven’t found the right one yet.
- You must have gotten really hurt in relationships to be doing this.
- Wow, it sounds complicated.
- Is polyamory easier or harder than monogamy?
All right, now let’s dive in.
“You must have gotten really hurt before in relationships to be doing solo polyamory.”
Some people think past relationships must have fucked me up so bad that now I’ve turned to polyamory – or supposedly even more reflective of commitment phobia, solo polyamory – to protect myself from getting hurt again.
First off, yes, I have been hurt in past relationships – pretty badly. But that hurt expressing itself in protective ways has actually occurred more in monogamous relationships, where I tended to play out old trauma patterns, than it does now being solo poly.
(I'm not saying monogamy equates to playing out trauma patterns. I am saying that being solo poly doesn’t equate to a person being in a greater state of trauma-induced defensiveness than if they were monogamous.)
Since my SoPo episode, I’ve reflected more deeply on this – partly because I’ve noticed my guardedness when meeting a potential dating partner more acutely than I did in the past.
Part of that greater clarity comes from me being more in tune with my body’s internal experience. I’m highly aware now of the “wall” or rigidity I can feel present in my body when I first meet someone new. I also notice the activity in my head, as my brain is busy working to assess if this person in front of me is safe, authentic, etc.
It has made me wonder: Am I ultimately keeping some people at arms-length, or being super cautious about letting someone into my life, because I’m scarred by the past?
Honoring our protector parts
Where I’ve landed in my reflection is that even if I was pursuing a monogamous relationship, I’d still be as guarded as I am now.
It’s not about the relationship style. It’s about (I believe) two things:
- The prospect of being open and vulnerable with anyone in any relationship (which is more of a protective adaptation to trauma); and
- That I’m more aware of other people’s ways of showing up in relationships that make me feel unsafe or uncertain, and I’m way less likely to ignore those signs (which comes from a more grounded place).
Since we're talking about acting out of fear in this post, I want to dive into the first point. Reflecting on this reminded me of what I shared in my episode “Life Is Short, But What If We Need to Slow Down?” (Episode 12, Season 2) about the value of sometimes going a bit slower in relationships (my pace actually used to be too fast, imo).
And that sometimes being “cautious” isn’t necessarily a bad thing, even when that cautiousness is coming from a protective trauma response and despite a genuine part of us wanting to revel in more vulnerability, connection, and romantic vibes with another.
I discussed the importance of showing these protective parts of us compassion in my podcast episode with my friend and fellow therapist-in-training, Janna, “Uncovering Our Authentic Self: Inner Child Work + the Right Relationships” (Episode 7, Season 4). Catch a snippet of our conversation here:
When I remind myself of that perspective, I don’t worry too much about my guardedness or protective parts. Especially because I'm continuously doing the work (in therapy and otherwise) to shift from my trauma-related hypervigilance, avoidance, and disconnection.
Basically, I trust my process and know that with time, doing the work, and being in the “right relationships,” my protector parts will naturally relax as they learn safety is consistently present with another.
Healing in relationships while solo poly
I experienced this evolution of trust, safety, and letting someone into my life in a big way with someone I dated in the past couple years. The way our relationship unfolded showed me that I can start off slow and cautious, but still be moving forward at the same time to grow something special.
I have zero doubt now that I'm more than willing to prioritize a romantic relationship and invest a great deal of time, effort, care, and emotional work into it – because that's exactly what I did. At this point, my standards for who I'll do that with are so high (though not unreasonable) that it'll probably be rare for it to happen. But when it does, I welcome the opportunity for that meaningful, deep connection(s) to be in my life.
Of course, this kind of reparative experience isn't just limited to non-monogamous situations, but I do think practicing polyamory is great for building greater secure attachment with one's self and others. That's because, if you’re staying true to polyamory principles, you must be super transparent and direct about what you want/don’t want with the people you date. That also means knowing what your needs even are in the first place.
So, for me, it’s all been a great exercise in getting to know my authentic self more deeply and doing the sometimes hard but empowering thing of communicating it to someone.
Also, in letting go of the toxic-monogamous idea of “owning” my dating partner and tendency to evaluate how they fit (or don’t) into my agenda of what I’d like them to be for me, I’ve moved toward seeing dating partners more in their individual uniqueness, capacities, and desires. The question I ask now is: Given where each of us are right now, are we a good fit for each other or not?
I’m in no way saying that practicing solo polyamory (or polyamory in general) equates to healing trauma. I think these relationship styles – and quite frankly, any relationship, period – can create an opportunity for healing to happen, but what an individual person does while in that space is what matters most.
My point for this conversation is that rather than SoPo being a hiding space for me to avoid the challenges that come along with "commitment," it's been an opportunity for me to practice some pretty brave things (imho), like voicing my needs and boundaries, working through jealousy and other relationship issues in healthier ways, and approaching others as complex, fully autonomous human beings.
What about having a primary partner while polyamorous?
I'm going to guess that even in the CNM world, having a primary partner is still viewed by many as a sign of greater commitment than not having one.
So when I think about the statement "You must have gotten really hurt before in relationships to be doing solo polyamory," I imagine I'd hear this less often if I had a primary partner while being polyamorous. (Of course, I'd probably hear some other shit instead.)
I'm not even going to entertain this question, because something that really hit home for me today is that taking a nonhierarchical solo poly approach in dating is not the easy way out – at least not for me.
In fact, it's fucking hard.
Because, for one, the pool of dating options gets pretty small. Meeting someone who aligns with all of my non-negotiables (e.g., he must be self-aware, have the capacity to work on his own shit, be attractive to me) and is also firmly polyamorous has proven to be no easy feat.
And even within the polyamorous pool, it's hard to find all of the above plus someone who practices nonhierarchical polyamory.
It can actually feel pretty demoralizing and hopeless at times (I'm feeling it right now). And from that place, it could be very tempting to abandon solo polyamory altogether. But that is actually what I'd be doing if driven by fear.
Because what feels authentic to me is being able to date whoever I want to date, to not impose a hierarchy among my relationships, and to develop meaningful connections with others if that's what we mutually feel inspired to do.
For me, none of that feels hard at all – it feels totally in alignment with my values of autonomy, self-expression, and growth. It's just hard to find others who vibe with that.
But as long as my intuition keeps telling me this is the authentic path for me, then I will continue onward. The option is not to run from it when it gets hard, but to learn how to navigate the challenges that inevitably come up when you do something that goes against the grain.
Reflection
Did any of this resonate with your own experiences?
Polyamorous or not, if you’ve been hurt before in relationships, what tells you that you’re operating from a trauma response in your current relationship(s) or not?
Polyamorous or not, what tells you you're in a meaningful, authentic, and fulfilling relationship (assuming you want your relationship to be those things) beyond whatever label you've given it?
You can go even deeper with me on this topic in my “Exploring Solo Polyamory” episode on The Soul’s Work Podcast.
And if you missed Part 1 of this post, read it here: “Practicing Solo Polyamory (Part 1): On Jealousy, Commitment, and ‘Why Solo Poly?’”
Lastly, stay tuned for my next blog post in this series on practicing nonhierarchical solo polyamory and relationship anarchy, where I’ll get into what’s really involved in doing away with labels and hierarchy in relationships.
