Polyamory as a life structure: Embracing multiplicity beyond love

“You want an open relationship with work, too,” my ex boyfriend said, laughing, one day.  

“Yes,” I responded. “Exactly.”

At the time, I was explaining why I didn’t like the idea of one full-time job, especially as something meant to provide everything all at once: sustainable income, identity, growth, community, and fulfillment. I’ve always preferred splitting my time across multiple roles, projects, passions, and teams, instead of expecting one thing to make me feel whole. 

It wasn’t until later that I realized this sentiment extended far beyond work. 

For me, polyamory— the practice of holding space for multiple emotional and romantic connections— was never just about dating multiple people. It’s become a framework for how I move through relationships, creativity, work, and personal growth. It’s become a way of understanding life itself.

No one thing is meant to be everything 

Mononormative culture often socializes us to organize our lives around singularity. One partner. One career path. Individuality over community. Prioritizing romantic connections over others. And, an expected relationship escalator of moving in, marriage, kids, and being together until death do us part. 

Personally, I’ve never fully connected to that structure for organizing a life.  

In my relationships— romantic or otherwise—different people occupy different roles. My friends, collaborators, partners, and family all fulfill me in different ways. None of them are responsible for every need I have, which I think makes my relationships stronger. Each connection gets to become what naturally makes sense for that specific bond, instead of following a predefined script. 

The same thing has become true in my work. 

I co-founded a nonprofit a few years ago, and it’s one of the most established aspects of my life. But like any long-term relationship, it doesn’t always bring me the excitement it used to. 

So, I don’t force it to. 

Instead, I started a magazine under the nonprofit—one project that helped reignite my creative spark. Around the same time, I launched a social media interview show that quickly became one of the most exciting parts of my professional life and connected me to people who are now central to my world. 

Alongside those projects, I freelance as a journalist, make music, work another paid job, maintain close friendships, spend time with family, and try to preserve some sense of balance amid it all. 

Even my physical spaces reflect my desire for multiplicity. I have my home, my nonprofit space, and more recently a studio with my interview show team for various creative projects. When my mom asked, “How many spaces do you need?” I joked, “I’m polyamorous with my spaces too.” It’s really not a joke though. I literally do need new physical energy to spark new ideas and motivation in me. 

Maybe it sounds excessive. And maybe sometimes it is. 

Still, I’ve realized that what actually feels unsustainable for me is trying to make one thing my everything.  

But with great variety comes great responsibility.

Multiplicity requires self-trust

Having more relationships, projects, and responsibilities doesn’t make things easier. In many ways, the abundance and openness requires more emotional awareness and self-trust. 

In the past, across friendships, relationships, and work, I had a pattern of people-pleasing and overextending myself. I would say yes too often, give more than my fair share, and show up even when I wasn’t truly needed. 

Polyamory makes those patterns harder to ignore. I’ve had to get a lot more honest with myself about what I can actually sustain and what a healthy, loving relationship (with a friend, a partner, or even my work) actually feels like for me. 

Giving more than I’m getting only serves to drain me from the things that actually matter. 

I’ve had conversations about this with close friends and business partners. Sometimes the best thing you can do is say “no.” Your energy is better if you only show up intentionally, rather than out of assumed necessity. You can’t sustain multiple relationships—of any kind—without first being grounded in yourself. 

For me, learning this has meant being more direct when something isn’t working, continuing to work on my confidence as a leader, and saying no more often—even when it feels uncomfortable. 

It all starts within. Because to know what you truly feel requires a clear relationship with your inner world.

An emphasis on intentionality: Desire isn’t a decision-making tool

Polyamory is not a free for all. Neither is running a business, maintaining friendships, or having a creative practice. Attraction and new ideas exist everywhere, and can definitely be exciting, but just because something is fun, it doesn’t mean it needs to be added to your life. 

In polyamory, I’ve learned that everything affects everything else. Time, emotional energy, attention, and care are not infinite resources—no matter how expansive your life is. That realization has forced me to be more intentional with my choices. 

If I’m not seeing anyone, I might be more open to exploring connections casually. But when I already have people in my life, I think more carefully—not only about what I want and how a new connection affects me, but about how that choice affects the people I love and am committed to.

The same thing shows up in my work. 

Sometimes I get excited about a new idea or a new group of people and want to pour most of my time into that. I’ve had to learn to pause and ask whether I can actually hold it alongside everything else I’ve already got going on. 

Wanting something and having the option to pursue it does not necessarily mean you have the capacity for it. 

There are periods where I feel completely saturated, where the idea of adding anything else to my life isn’t appealing. Then there are moments where things naturally shift, and space opens up again. 

Learning to recognize those cycles instead of resisting them has been crucial for me. 

Communication changes everything—and risks everything 

Humans are ever-evolving, and that can be a scary truth. Being honest can feel freeing—but it can also disrupt things. 

I want to be the fullest version of myself as much as possible, which requires being open about what I need, what I want, and when those things shift. That hasn't always come naturally to me, and oftentimes it can still be difficult. For a long time, I struggled to be clear and direct for fear of what the truth may change. 

Through navigating polyamory, I’ve built a level of confidence in expressing myself that now extends into every part of my life. It affects how I communicate in friendships, work environments, creative collaboration, and as a leader. 

That doesn’t mean everything works out. It means being honest even when I know it might not. Sometimes the truth has brought me closer to people—it has allowed me to feel fully seen and supported in ways I didn’t always think were possible. And sometimes honesty has led to distance, tension, or even endings.

Just recently, I’ve caught myself avoiding conversations in the hope of preserving a fantasy. In the past, I would stay agreeable or quiet for the same reasons—to try to keep something stable that clearly wasn’t.

But, I’ve learned that avoiding honesty doesn't preserve anything that is meant to be—at least not for long. 

Open communication means setting boundaries earlier, naming expectations clearly, and revisiting conversations as things evolve. Usually, this creates space for deeper connection, but it also requires you to accept that not everything will work once it’s fully understood. 

For me, that risk has been worth it. 

Experimentation as a way of living 

Being intentional and communicative creates more room for experimentation. The more you try new things—in work, relationships, creative practice, or other areas—the more you learn what you like and don’t like. The more you grow. 

If I only had one relationship, one job, one version of what my life is “supposed” to look like, I don’t think I would learn as much about myself. A lot of what I understand about who I am has come from trying things, realizing what doesn’t work, adjusting, and trying again. 

Fear is always part of experimentation, especially fear of change or getting things “wrong.” But polyamory has made me question what “wrong” even means. I try not to see endings or misalignments as failures or mistakes, but rather as information to move forward with. That is just as valuable to me as knowing what does work. Not everything has to be permanent to be meaningful. 

This mindset shows up most clearly in my creative life. The moments where I’ve allowed myself to experiment, even when I’m uncertain, are usually the moments that have led me somewhere unexpectedly meaningful. New projects, new sounds, new collaborations, new ways of thinking, new versions of myself. None of those things would have happened if I stayed with what already felt safe, proven, or socially acceptable. 

Polyamory reinforced that way of thinking for me. It normalized the idea that life can be shaped through exploration rather than rigid formulas. 

There is no such thing as wasted time. Every relationship, project, risk, conversation, and experience gives me something back, even if the outcome isn’t what I originally imagined. At the very least, it leaves me with more clarity, self-awareness, and direction than I had before.

A life that holds space for multiple versions of me

I’ve always wanted my life to feel interconnected rather than fragmented. 

Being open about my desire for multiplicity and experimentation has allowed me to build a life where I can exist more fully as myself across different spaces. 

One role, one relationship, one title, or one version of myself alone does not define me. I am made up of all of my experiences, interests, contradictions, mistakes, and evolutions simultaneously. And I like living in a way that leaves room for those things to continue changing and evolving.  

That also means my worlds overlap. I work with friends. I create with people I deeply care about. Romantic relationships sometimes intersect with creative or professional spaces. The lines are not always rigidly separated, and for me, that makes life feel fuller rather than messier. 

Of course, that doesn’t work for everyone. But personally, I’ve found a lot of beauty in letting the people and spaces in my life connect with one another instead of compartmentalizing everything. The constant growth, new experiences, depth of connection, and ability to keep evolving feels deeply aligned with how I experience people, creativity, work, and love. 

And while it makes me feel more seen, it’s not always easy. Sometimes I struggle with jealousy, burnout, uncertainty, overstimulation, or even moments where more traditional structures seem comforting. 

But most of the time, I genuinely would not want my life any other way. 

Polyamory, for me, isn’t just about dating multiple people. It’s about realizing that my life was never meant to fit in a single box. 

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