Miso coated roast carrots, duck fat roasted potatos and garlic brined roast chicken pieces coated in a French mustard & sherry fricassee sauce

Nice simple eve dinner and many a lived plate is all the thanks. I need.

It’s the day before xmas and all through out the house there has been a great deal of preparation for other people’s culinary enjoyment upon the time of the feasting…

PSA: This festive season, if making nougat, caramels or toffees, remember boiling sugar should not be pushed off the spoon with your fingers…

2.5 acres of grass… mowed.

My year in under 7 seconds…

2018 - A year of discovery, crying, depression, loss, rejection … and not necessarily in that order.

It all started, as most things do, with a drink.

— more —

For years I knew I was different, that my emotions were not the same as others, that I felt things in weird ways and with that came a way of interacting with others that was ,,, different to standard societal norms.

I always knew that I could love multiple people, equally and equitably - at the same time. No one else around me was the same, and everything - movies, stories, fairytales, counsellers, therapists - tells us that love is some kind of pie that apparently you need to decide how to slice up - because there is a limited supply of it.

That was never true for me.

My love is bottles. Each person gets one, and the more I love you, the more bottles I fill on your shelf. Those bottles never go away either. I may no longer have you in my life, but those bottles remain - getting dusty, but as full as always. Even ex-partners who have wronged me still have their bottles - sure, there may be warnings or a cross-and-skullbone label on them, but the love, it’s still there.

Late last year I met someone who finally gave me a name for people like me. Polyamorous. Yet, in my initial research I didn’t think I was one of them. Most of the literature is either based on “technical polyamory” relationships or on those more inclined to what I referred to as the “poly sexual” group - namely the swinger set and those addicted to the NRE (New Relationship Energy) high.

But I did find others who were like me, and for a while that was enough.

But, as I said, it all started with a drink - and someone who I was attracted to, who I was avoiding because I wasn’t meant to have those feelings for, who I wasn’t meant to crave or desire or in any way have - she told me she wanted me.

Now, you have to understand something else - no one has ever said that to me before. Ever.

I’ve been with Ingrid for 25 years. We love each other. I know she loves me. But she never wanted me. We met under confused messages, we found ourselves together. We have worked through a lot of things over the years. But she never wanted me. Worse, she rejected me, more than thrice - and yet I forgave and we kept going. But this entry isn’t about that.

With the discovery of “my people” and thus the fact I was not a “freak” and the impetus of this wonderful person who awoke a part of me I had forgotten existed - I asked, although she tells me I practically demanded - that I be allowed to explore this part of me. She agreed, but apparently it was because she felt she had to or risk losing me … so I found out later.

I set up a few dating accounts - tinder, OK Cupid, FetLife - and she even helped me to do so. I had the young lady who had expressed her interest in me, but thought that since she had a boyfriend (she wasn’t a poly), worked with me and had expressed her desire while very drunk that nothing more was ever to come of it.

That was incorrect.

We started seeing each other. It was wonderful. It made me happy.

But then Ingrid realised it was real. She had originally asked me not to tell her who I was seeing, but due to my stupidity and incorrect assumptions, she discovered who this woman was … and it was no longer ok.

This was just as I headed off to the united states in May.

In New Orleans, at the Collision Conferance, I met another woman - she was intelligent and gorgeous, everything I would have described as a perfect subject of my “weird science” experiment if I had been given that power … we synced on so many levels … except she did not see me in that way, at all. Story of my life really.

We became friends though, and it turned out she was the Ingrid in her relationship with a poly … so we talked and talked and I saw her point of view, and thus understood Ingrid’s better as well.

I came back to Australia and the pieces of the wreck that was my relationship was still there to sort out. But first I need to back track to March 2017 to catch you up on the other half of my life that was crashing down at the same time - work.

In 2017, the multinational I was working for merged with another. Combined, it became a corporation of 170,000 individuals world-wide. Prior to the merger, I was the Divisional COO - the operations lead for a division of four practices and 400 people at its peak. Due to the magic of McKinsey, my role was merged with that of the acquired group and the role was offered to the individual with the University degrees, not the one who was already in the function (i.e. me), So, over the next 6 months, I had to manage the transition of the staff over to the new divisional organisation, including the graduate programme cohorts I was managing … until i was left without a department, a team or a group of young minds I had been enjoying helping set up their careers and development.

Fast forward to June 2018 and the various avenues I had been exploring in the new corporation were all drying up - the CTO function for two seperate divisions I was in the running for were both de-funded and thus dead in the water. The leadership role for a Digital Transformation Center that partnered with a local university, also died for the same reason. The Principle Consultant role was re-classified as an associate level and the three suggestions I offered for new roles were all declined.

So there I was - home and work life both in shambles.

Due to the machinations of beaurocracy, my last pitch demand from my previous director to “give me a job that actually makes use of me or pay me out” became a decision to do the latter - but that would take another three months to actually implement.

During this time, Ingrid and I were trying to determine what to do. Although she claimed she felt I had given her an ultimatum with my request, she now gave me one … remain monogamous or we have to go our seperate ways.

We got a therapist - we went on a relationship therapy weekend … we have talked and we understand each other a little better … but ultimately nothing has changed.

So, come September 1, 2018 I was out of a job with a redundancy payment, a relationship that was broken, a lover who couldn’t be mine and an emotional state that was rougher than a perfect storm seascape.

Over the last few months I have had to try and regain some of my professional confidence - something I am still working on - but ultimately came to the conclusion that I wanted my work life to have some real meaning - a purpose that was greater than profit.

A dream job came up - the CTOO role for the Movember organisation - but i missed out on that due to their dream candidate being available and ready to start. So, that hurt, regardless of how logical and reasonable the choice for them was.

I forked out 20K from my redundancy to hire an outplacement service. They’ve been good - helping me with my CV, networking, LinkedIn, etc. However, as I said, I wanted a purpose greater than profit … so I sunk another 50K into starting a business. From scratch.

I’m sitting here at 3am on a Thursday morning, on my back porch - smoking. Oh yeah, I returned to my self-destructive habit of coping by swallowing my emotions and my self-loathing one drag at a time.

I have a lover who is done with me.

I have a partner who is happy with the way things are and doesn’t want anything to change.

I have no job.

I have a business with no clients.

I have a rapidly declining bank account.

I have my MDD slamming my emotions harder than a screen door in a storm.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot - I discovered something else about myself this year. As part of a therapy session to deal with my eating disorder - I discovered that even under the power of suggestion, I couldn’t find a “safe and happy place”. My life has been tumultuous to say the least … but the thing that gets me, is that almost all of the therapy options rely on building you back up by finding this magical place and using it as a foundation.

So, yeah. That’s great. What happens when you don’t have a foundation stone?

So - that’s been my 2018. Crying. Depression. Rejection. Loss. Basically a general sense of dystopic hopelessness.

If I survive the “festive season” I can only hope that 2019 is a fucktonne better.

It has to be, right?