I feel like I’ve made a choice recently to step back a bit from my life, and from my community. It’s not that they aren’t nice, well-meaning people who probably do care about my wellbeing. It’s more that they aren’t the kind of nice, well-meaning people who are comfortable confronting reality.
My reality is, in fairness, unbearable. I can’t bear it well myself. I don’t think they are there though for my expression of that reality, the huge feelings, the desperation and for the person I have come to be, and I am done with pretending. I need people around me that I can swear with, scream with, show my real self with. And that self is very irreverent right now, incandescent with rage and grief. I don’t want repression or polite niceties. I am wild, baby.
Radical honesty. Is that even possible with normal humans? There are so many things I have to hide. I can’t wear my fantastic vagina museum mask with these people, for example. I can’t tell them about the way I took a series of photos this week of my cunt for the first time in my life and they were just SO BEAUTIFUL, and that I wish I could have shared them with the whole world.
I really want to be more real though, more myself. I can’t be arsed to have another ‘I’m praying for you’ conversation with another well meaning person who has no idea what it is like to have lost so much of what made me myself. No, I’m not going to ‘just get better’. No, I’m not getting access to treatment. No I don’t feel ‘glad that at least I am alive’. Obviously I have my family, and I love them, but I’d also really like to fuck without repercussions and go for walks with my kids and take them to beautiful places like we used to do.
In stepping away however from the ‘get well soon’ and the ‘just stay positive’ and the ‘it’s going to turn out ok’ people, I’ve also found a whole community of people online who have welcomed me into a different kind of realness, a realness that is owning my physical self in a very different way. I can photograph my body and own the beauty still contained there in it, own my feelings, my desires, and not be afraid of being fully myself. I can embrace my sexuality and enjoy it in different ways, and that has been hugely healing for me.
So maybe, I’m going to try to stop pretending. Maybe, I’ll try to have more uncomfortable conversations in which I confront the positivity with reality. Perhaps I can be a little braver in my relationships and my choices.
I probably still won’t show them the cunt photos though.