The River and the Pause

Heraclitus said that no one steps in the same river twice, because the river is different and so are we. I think about that every time connection changes shape.

I used to fear ethical non-monogamy because I equated space with abandonment. When someone pulled back, my body didn’t see calm water; it saw the current sweeping them away. So I avoided rivers altogether—until I met Mr. Boss.

Mr. Boss is gentle, neurodivergent, steady in the way my nervous system rarely is. I knew about his marriage plans, and I truly wanted to celebrate him. But life doesn’t wait for our best timing. While he was restructuring his world, mine was shaking apart. His silence met my chaos, and the old story returned: He’s leaving. You’ll have to hold yourself again.

I even asked him outright if he was going away. Typical us—two AuDHD minds dissecting context before answering the actual question. It took me crying and finally reading the whole message aloud before he said it: “No. I’m not going anywhere.” Relief and ache arrived together. The fear wasn’t about him; it was the echo of every time I’ve had to self-contain while waiting for care that never came.

Heraclitus would probably remind me that constancy isn’t stillness—it’s flow. Relationships, even good ones, require movement. The distance I felt wasn’t proof of neglect; it was the water shifting around new rocks.

I’m learning that being loved doesn’t mean never being alone for a moment. It means trusting the river to return.