Reflections, Reclaiming My Peace, My Experiences

Reflections, Reclaiming My Peace, My Experiences

[thecommitmentdiaries]

The Gift of Being Chosen Fully - and Why Jealousy Isn’t a Flaw

I’ve heard people describe the “joy” of polyamory as being chosen even when your partner has chosen others too - that the significance comes from still being wanted despite the presence of other loves. The idea is that it makes you feel powerful: “I must be special, because they keep coming back to me.”

But that framing always struck me as hollow. It treats the partner like a prize - like the value comes from being “picked” again and again, rather than being seen and cherished as a whole human. And humans aren’t objects. Love isn’t a competition where the win is being chosen in spite of others.

I know some might argue that monogamy can also be seen as a prize. But to me, monogamy isn’t about a back-and-forth of who comes back to you. It’s about who is always there. There isn’t competition, because there’s no competition to have. It’s not about proving your worth against others - it’s about building trust in the knowledge that you don’t have to. There isn't competition in monogamy the way there is in polyamory, which makes monogamy not a game to be won, but a choice that doesn’t have to be questioned.

Jealousy isn’t a flaw. It’s a feeling. It’s what happens when we sense something we value might be taken away, when the security of a bond feels threatened. It’s no more shameful than grief, fear, or anger. The question isn’t whether jealousy exists - it’s how we respond to it, and whether the structures of our relationships help us feel secure enough to process it.

When I was in a polyamorous relationship, I learned firsthand that “infinite love” doesn’t erase jealousy. It sharpens it. Because when your heart is divided between people, there will always be trade-offs: time, attention, intimacy. And those trade-offs hurt. No amount of bubble baths, teddy bears, or distractions will change the fact that some part of you knows you’re being given less.

For me, polyamory felt like settling for pieces of someone and convincing myself it was enough. I was significant because I was picked again, not because I was chosen completely. That kind of love felt conditional, fractured, and fragile.

What I want is different. I want to be chosen fully, with no fractions, no comparisons, no caveats. Because love doesn’t feel more meaningful when it’s divided. It feels more meaningful when it’s whole. And the real gift, to me, isn’t someone returning despite having other options - it’s someone choosing not to look elsewhere at all.

[thecommitmentdiaries]

Loneliness Within Connection

One of the hardest parts of being in a polyamorous relationship was learning that you can be connected to someone and still feel alone. On the surface, I had a partner. We spent time together, we cared for each other, we shared moments. But underneath, I felt the distance - like I was always holding onto only part of him, never the whole.

I was told that people who live polyamory have the ability to love more than one person - that their capacity for love is wider, more expansive. But what I actually experienced wasn’t an expanded heart. It was a divided one. It wasn’t a whole heart I was receiving, it was pieces. And no matter how much I gave, what came back to me was always incomplete.

Polyamory framed this as freedom, as expansion, as love multiplied. But what it gave me was a kind of emptiness. Because when your partner is split between you and someone else, the bond you thought would ground you suddenly feels fragile. Even when I was with him, I felt the shadow of where he wasn’t - the constant reminder that I wasn’t his only, that part of him belonged elsewhere.

That loneliness cuts deeper than being single, because it isn’t about absence. It’s about proximity without presence. It’s lying next to someone whose heart is divided. It’s sharing yourself fully and still feeling that he’s never fully with you - because part of him is always out of reach.

Polyamory taught me that connection without commitment doesn’t soothe loneliness - it sharpens it. It turns intimacy into comparison, presence into absence, and closeness into distance. And the cruelest part was realizing I was loneliest not when I was by myself, but when I was beside the person I loved.

Now I know that what I want isn’t just connection, but connection that is whole. Because being half-held isn’t enough. Loneliness within connection taught me that lesson - and I won’t ignore it again. Polyamory, and the relationship I entered through it, left me with abandonment, an abortion, and depression (and in that order). That’s not freedom. That’s not growth. That’s the cost of being given fragments instead of a whole.

[thecommitmentdiaries]

Why “The Ethical Slut” Didn’t Resonate With Me

When I first entered a polyamorous relationship, I tried to read The Ethical Slut. It’s often recommended as the book on polyamory, the one that makes it all make sense. But the more I read, the more I realized - it didn’t resonate with me.

Part of that is because the book is dated. It was groundbreaking for its time, but it reflects the culture and wounds of the era it came out of. To me, it painted polyamory as liberation, as a way of healing, as a kind of enlightened evolution. But what I saw between the lines was something else: pain.

It read less like freedom, and more like protection. A way of saying: “I’ve been hurt before. I’ve felt raw, vulnerable, broken. And I refuse to let anyone ever have that kind of power over me again.”

That doesn’t look like healing to me. That looks like avoidance. It looks like trauma wearing the mask of empowerment. Instead of working through that hurt, polyamory can become a shield - a way to say, “I’ll spread myself thin enough that no one person can undo me.”

And when I look back at my partner, with his avoidant attachment style, I can see how that logic made sense to him. Why give your whole self to someone, when giving fragments feels safer? Why risk intensity, when you can keep everything at arm’s length?

But that’s not love as I understand it. To me, love is about being willing to risk - to let someone close enough that they could hurt you, because the alternative is never really letting yourself be known. Polyamory, in my experience, was less about courage and more about control. And that’s not the kind of love I want to build my life on.

Around the same time, I read an article that critiqued The Ethical Slut. Unlike the book, this piece resonated with me. It pointed out the contradictions: the idea of “no hierarchy” that still relies on primaries and secondaries; the insistence that love is infinite when in reality time, energy, and attention aren’t; the suggestion that jealousy can be solved with bubble baths and crayons. The article called polyamory consumerism disguised as evolution - and honestly, that’s exactly what I felt while living it.

For me, this critique held more truth than the so-called handbook. Because what I learned in practice is that love isn’t about multiplying options - it’s about showing up fully. Not control, not avoidance, not fragments. Just one person, chosen deeply.

Uncomfortable Slut: The Dark Side of Polyamory — Countere Magazine

The Personality Girlsexplains why we need to reject polyamory and embrace monogamy.

[thecommitmentdiaries]

The Myth of “More Love to Go Around”

One common phrase I heard around polyamory was, “Love is infinite.” The idea is that having more than one partner doesn’t mean loving anyone less, because there’s always more love to give. On paper, it sounds beautiful - like the heart is a well that never runs dry.

But in reality, love isn’t just a feeling. It’s time. It’s energy. It’s presence. And those things are not infinite. They’re limited by work, distance, exhaustion, obligations, distractions. They’re limited by the fact that we are human.

I found myself on the receiving end of this “infinite love” idea - but what I actually felt was scarcity. My partner could say he loved me just as much, but when there were constant trade-offs of who got his time, who got his focus, who got his weekends, the truth showed itself. It wasn’t infinite at all. It was divided. And no matter how much love he claimed to feel, I was still left with less of him.

And look, I do know it’s possible to love multiple people. I love my friends, my family, the people in my life. But when you have a partner, that love is different. I don’t go to my friends or family in the same way I go to my partner. That bond carries a level of intimacy, consistency, and responsibility that isn’t interchangeable. When that bond gets split, it changes what it feels like to be chosen. Because that kind of love can’t actually be divided. It can’t be infinite, even if you try your best to make it so.

I don’t want to be loved in theory. I want to be loved in practice. To me, love means being chosen with consistency, not squeezed into the leftover margins of someone’s schedule. I want quality over quantity. I want depth, not options.

Polyamory taught me that “infinite love” is more of a slogan than a lived reality. It sounds expansive, but it often leaves people stretched thin. What I want - what I need - is love that is whole. Love that doesn’t just say “I have enough to go around,” but shows up in full, steady, and undivided.

[thecommitmentdiaries]

My Experience With Polyamory (Summary)

I’ve decided to start this blog as a place to process and share my own experiences with relationships - particularly my time in a polyamorous dynamic. These are my personal reflections, not universal truths. But if you’ve ever questioned polyamory, maybe my story will resonate with you.

When I found myself in a relationship where I was monogamous and my partner was polyamorous, I thought maybe I could adapt. I thought love, patience, and showing up would be enough. But the truth is, polyamory hurt me.

At first, it seemed like it might mean freedom, choice, connection. But what I actually lived was hierarchy, avoidance, and emptiness. There was always a sense of being divided - like I was receiving a fraction of someone who I gave myself to. Polyamory seemed to give my partner excuses to stay at arm’s length.

The language around polyamory is often about growth and maturity - but in my experience, it was the opposite. It was a way to avoid growth, to cling to “glory days” where nothing had to be chosen fully, where doors stayed half-open. Polyamory made me feel like I wasn’t enough, no matter how much love I gave.

What I realized is that I want depth, not breadth. I want someone to choose me completely, not partially. I want love that is steady, rooted, and all-in - not love that leaves me waiting, comparing, or feeling like an option.

Polyamory taught me something, but not what people say it will. It taught me what I won’t accept again. It taught me that connection without commitment isn’t freedom - it’s loneliness. And it taught me that my heart wants wholeness, not fragments.

This is just the beginning of me putting words to what I’ve lived and learned. My hope is to create a space where honesty about relationships - the beautiful, the complicated, and the painful - can exist together.