I remember last Tuesday, when I was getting myself all setup and ready to start my 21 day book publishing SPRINT in my new temporary residence, only to find out the Wifi wasn’t working. I jokingly remarked on social media;
“Apparently Life wants me to have a three week holiday instead.”
The wit of someone who has lost one workday.
I moved my computer to my mother’s house and could still crack jokes about it.
However, after I lost the second workday to personal circumstances;
A third vaporized due to unforeseen things and an appointment I’d already made;
And I lost my Friday to an early morning mechanic from the contractor (I have escaped renovations in my own apartment – but in this temporary house they have some relatively minor renovations too);
And I was called by the cable company after I had just finished coffee at my mom’s house, and had to come home again?
I wasn’t in the mood for jokes anymore.
Of course I was happy the cable company had finally switched gears after three days, and was coming over to check things out. The main cable, buried under the pavement, turned out to have been damaged. This had not been one of those reset your modem thingies.
But as I was packing my bag yet again, breaking off the last workday of the week before it had even started, I cursed for having made Tuesday’s smart-ass remark that I now had a three week holiday:
“I WAS ONLY JOKING!”
And before that incredible, utterly non-productive week, I had already “wasted” the first week of my 30 day sabbatical, because of an unexpected turn of events.
There I had been.
30 Days all to myself, to go publish my books and to write offline about a highly personal subject: My sexual preference for playing rough, like play rape or other role playing games.
I wanted to write my book on sexual consent play offline.
It blended in with the 30 day publishing sabbatical, but I also wanted to write it offline to ensure I would go all in. And to not hold anything back because I was afraid to publish/post/share it through a blog.
I published a carefree chapter; A boyfriend like Jon Bongiovi An analysis of my sexuality as a teen.
But for the other chapters of my offline project, I dove into my mind, and did deep soul searching. I was eager! It felt like I was closing in on something.
Until I realized what I was closing in on, was ME.
Writing this book was like pushing myself towards a cliff.
It was a rude awakening, and I stopped immediately.
2018 was the first time in my life I have ever felt suicidal, and I know now all of it is related;
– the week of non-consensual soul searching that destabilized me
– the recurring nights awake due to stress
– the constant crying
– my heart complaints
– last year’s suicidal thoughts, for the first ever time in my life.
Even losing an entire week due to renovations, moving house and wifi problems is ultimately just a sign of not having your head straight. If you re focused as fuck – you WILL do the work regardless of what life throws at you.
But the good news is, I now understand all of these things are caused by the same causes. And more importantly, will most likely become manageable once I have stabilized my life.
By NOT searching deeply into my soul.
Stick with fixed working hours.
Have weekends off.
And to be very cautious to ever touch the subject of consent play again.
Just to illustrate why I m being so careful: Last Friday, when I started this blog post, I added a chapter from my book on consent play.
How could that hurt right?
I mean, it wasn’t even sexual.
So I copied, pasted, edited, rewrote. And although I blamed not finishing on not having enough time, I knew it was something else.
That including the chapter in this post was making me sick.
It was, is, still destabilizing me.
I need to give up on the book on sexual consent play. I don’t want to, because I felt blessed that I had been “given” such an interesting topic to write about. And at a point in my life when I thought my life would be editing and publishing my old books.
So ungrateful to toss it aside.
But this topic has already cost me a week of writing, and it has totally derailed me.
I go between thinking I will pick it up in the future, when I m bored or so stable I need some serious excitement. And thinking that maybe I don’t want to.
That maybe the trick with my writing, is that it NEEDS TO BE ABSOLUTELY FREE.
I can’t write a book limiting myself beforehand that “this and this” is going to be the topic. And in particular not when the topic is sexual consent play (or should I say non-consent play?). The topic is too heavy, too political.
Maybe there is a reason nobody investigates consent play, and that it’s being brushed off with “it being really normal for women to have rape fantasies”.
Maybe that really is all you can say about it, without going mad.
At least for me.
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living
I m back!
Let’s cut the crap shall we? is Chapter 22 of my diary 7-figure Rock Star Writer
It marks the ending of my brave but stupid attempt to not blog, and to take a 30 day sabbatical in order to publish my books.
Because after two weeks I can see that the time freed up by not blogging, up to 7 hours a day, was not spent publishing my books. Instead it just drew in drama, meltdowns and unforeseen circumstances.
So I ll be back blogging, and also still publish my books.
1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)
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