Daily Archives: October 19, 2017

I might be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it… (a.k.a. the tiger inside)

As faithful readers will know I’ve kept this blog dormant for a while. Why? Apart from a lack of time, I got scared. I got scared of perception. You see, I have a knack for Carrie Bradshaw (OK, Samantha) style headlines (sexual metaphors) and the sense of humor to go with it. A lot of people enjoyed that with my writing, others got confused and thought my life was all about sex, when in reality I was usually working or, you know, cleaning up the house after the kids. The sex was in the headlines, metaphors and jokes. In other words: it was for entertainment purposes, not a reflection of my life, though I may at times vent my opinions surrounding the topic of sex.

Other people got offended by the headlines and the metaphors; people who view sex in an entirely different way than I do. I have had men touch me up and give me indecent proposals over the years when traveling the world, so trust me, I know that not all associations with sex are pleasant. Yet, I’ve been spared from the really bad stuff and for that I’m grateful and I’m very happy about the current #metoo campaign because awareness is important, but Confessions isn’t about sexual abuse. It’s about playfulness and having a twinkle in the eye.

With sex some people also think that because you speak about sex you have no morals. To me morals are about honesty, ethics, etc. and I have been acused more than once of being stuck up with my morals as I won’t cut corners, but I can write a joke about Jesus and threesomes without feeling the least bad about it. It’s a joke. I’m not degrading the teachings of Jesus, I’m cracking a joke. Likewise, cracking a joke about a toe is one thing, a vagina another, apparently. Yet, why is a part of our body taboo?

Here’s a not so big secret for you: I was the most inhibitied person as a child. I was so shy I didn’t speak unless spoken to. I was scared of what people thought of me no matter what I did (usually they were only thinking of themselves, of course) and I fought like a tiger to break free of my self-imposed prison (or well it wasn’t entirely self-imposed, it arose as a result of mental abuse, where my reaction was to create a prison to keep the bad out, but also keep the good in so no one could take it away from me; no one could bully me for the real me if I didn’t show it). Not being able to be yourself out of fear is hell. Truly. I want everyone to be able to break free and I want to talk about the shit people consider taboo. Because not having the confidence to be you makes for a nightmarish life. And usually one filled with resentment as you will resent people if you think they’ll judge you for who you are.

When it comes to this blog, some people also fell in love with my writing and didn’t realize that my writing is like 3% of who I am. Sure, I’m very honest in my blogs, but it’s still a very small part of my life and I didn’t necessarily like some of the attentions I got. Nor did I like when people read something and completely misunderstood it. It was very annoying to have my thoughts turned upside down. Whatever you say truly can be turned against you.

Then there were the people who said I degraded myself by having this blog. I, an intellectual, goody-good girl who works with children and charity, couldn’t possibly put my reputation on the line by writing about sex. And of course, I didn’t want people to get the wrong idea. As I want to adopt kids, this scared me maybe more than anything else.

Lastly, there was me. While I loved expressing myself and loved hearing the comments I got about how my blog helped and inspired people over the years, I also knew that some of the headlines I came up with were taking things too far. I got numb. You do after writing over 900 posts, of which more than half have some sort of sexual connotation. I mean I can make anything sound like sex, trust me. Really. Give me something to talk about and I’ll turn it into a sexual metaphor, which usually cracks me up, but there is a point when you take it too far simply because you want to sell something. You want to come up with something more sensational just to get the views. Your ego is now running the show, not your twinkle in the eye, or sense of humor.

Of course, as you can see, there was more ego in the mix, because I was thinking about what people were thinking about me. Cue my childhood.

Ego is a bitch. Seriously.

Now my point, dear readers (as you know, it always comes…eventually), is that I miss this blog. I miss it terribly. It was the place where I used to gather my thoughts and laugh till I cried over my own jokes (I know, I know…). So if Caitlyn Moran and Bridget Jones can talk sex and swear like true Londoners, then so can I.  It’s OK to be me, so long as it comes from the heart, not the ego.

And the moral lesson, or deep insight that I so love to share in my blogs? Today, well, today I was thinking that there is no greater strength than openness, vulnerability and honesty. It’s the only way of getting what we want, because we can only get what we want when we are true to ourselves. Just as I have to be sure not to use sexual metaphors and stilettoes as shields (esp. in my love life), we all have to make sure we open our hearts. Otherwise, first of all we attract the shield (ego), not our heart. Secondly, when we wear armor, we trap all the bad things inside as well. Face the hurt and let it go. Face the joy and allow it to fly, or it will only be you holding onto memories and not living in the present.

When our life is a reflection of who we are, we know we are living from the heart. Letting go of the shield to get us there is sometimes painful, but I do believe it’s worth it.

Right, that’s it. Confessions is back. (And for those who are wondering: yes, I made a lot of old posts private because…well “up the ass” was maybe not one of my finer headlines…but I will keep my Carrie Bradshaw jokes about the subject, as seen in the humor section. The Jesus jokes too.)

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Image Source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/287597126173631368/

 

 

 

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