I wish I'd read this at high school. I wish all my friends had read this at high school. It would have saved us a lot of pain — the pain we dealt to others, the pain others dealt to us, and the pain we dealt to ourselves.

My earliest memories of monogamy are 1) my dad reacting with either silence or rage at my mum's stream of consciousness talk during dinner time (nobody asked how anyone else's day was); 2) Disney animated flicks about heterosexual completion; and 3) that scene in Minority Report where the husband finds his wife cheating on him and he precogs her murder. These were my models for appropriate sexual, romantic and emotional coupling.

Clearly, heteronormativity and monogamy weren't the only issues here. My parents never dealt with their own fuck ups. Neither of them could relate to me or my brother emotionally. My dad was withdrawn, and my mother was narcissistic. My dad left me and my brother to do whatever we wanted without affirming us in what we were doing, and my mother used us as props for her ego-boosting stories that she narrated to our friends and family. We either didn't exist, or we existed as objects.

I hated my upbringing, but every relationship I got into became a repetition of it, because I hadn't introjected an attuned, compassionate and dialogic psychic structure. This is the one that develops in a child when their needs are met, understood and reflected back to them by their caregiver(s), leading to the development of primary narcissism (a secure foundation for self-worth), as well as the ability to articulate ones needs and find multiple avenues for their realisation (being well-adjusted in ones coping mechanisms rather than self-destructive, avoidant, or insecure). I would fall into silence when I couldn't articulate something (this even became an idealised self-image for me when I got into existential sadboi culture). I still struggle with articulating my needs, because appearing dependent fills me with crushing shame and the fear that I'll be ignored, looked down on, or rejected completely.

While this book isn't anything new to me (I read plenty of anarchist and psychotherapy texts post high school), it did remind me that knowing these theories is not enough. They need to be enacted, over and again, with our loved ones, and with patience and compassion. I'll admit, trauma recovery feels impossible to me more often than not, but I don't want to give up, because I know others have changed, and I myself have changed in small ways and in fleeting moments. I don't know if I'll ever breach the psychotic gulf between me and my parents, but I can at least be better to my friends who I run away from too much, to their pain and my own.

I realise I've mostly spoken about attachment theory. I guess bisexuality and polyamory are just baseline to me. I'll just repeat what 21yr old me thought at a party once: No one person can grant you all your desires. Love is multiple (even in monogamy), and breaking out of heteronormative possessive or codependent relations is something beautiful, freeing and worth struggling for. Fuck the patriarchy.

This book isn't deep theory, but it's incredibly practical, and a vital guide for queer communities ravaged by trauma. We can't heal with good intentions alone. This book provides tools to recognise and deal with insecurity. It's worth reading even if you're not in conflict with your partner(s), or don't even have a partner. As the saying goes, check ur self b4 u wreck ur self.

x

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p.s. If you wanna dive into deep theory, I'd recommend Intimacy and Alienation: Memory, Trauma and Personal Being for an understanding of the dialogic self, and Trauma and the Body: A Sensorimotor Approach to Psychotherapy for an understanding of attachment theory (I didn't like this book, personally and politically, but there's good info in it).