Purity in Words

While I was taking a shower yesterday (you all know that the best thinking happens while showering), I was thinking about how my mom used to use Pantene Pro-V. She probably still does. But I was never allowed to use it because it was expensive. Instead, I got to use Suave.   Now, as an adult, I can use whatever shampoo I want. Currently, it’s Love, Beauty & Planet. Which is a pretty pricey, sulfate-free shampoo. And I thought about how my parents just roll their eyes at stuff like that. “Sulfate-free? You spend almost $10 for a 13oz bottle for sulfate-free shampoo???? There are cheaper alternatives. Sulfate-free is such a scam.”   Okay, we’ve never actually had this conversation but I’ve had conversations similar to this. But it had me thinking. What did my mom’s mom use for shampoo? What about my grandma’s mom? Commercial shampoo has been around for less than 100 years. Did my great grandma roll her eyes at her young adult daughter using shampoo while she washed her own w...

I got collared yesterday. And I’m conflicted.   I received a couple of packages in the mail from a dear friend of mine and also an ex-boyfriend. In fact, he’s the one I referenced in my iceberg post as the one who saved me. At this point, I’m trying to figure out how much backstory to give. It’s not that I don’t want to share, it’s that it’s a lot.   I’ve gone through a lot. Way more than I’ve talked about. Way more than I can remember. Christopher was there when I needed him the most. I was 17 and really broken, he was 15 and still a child. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was what I needed at the time. I usually refer to him as Angus, and I hate calling him Chris. Angus is his middle name and I’ve called him that for years, but I feel he’s more like a Christopher to me. I guess it’s the symbolism that distinguishes the man from the child.   Over the last decade or so, he’s popped in and out of my life, usually at a time I need it the most. It’s weird. Well, this t...

I was raised in a religious home. At least, my mom raised us kids that way since my dad wasn’t really around a whole lot. Growing up, I got a lot of mixed signals regarding sex and the naked body. I mean, children are naturally very curious about the body and how it functions. There’s a reason why “playing doctor” is a thing, but we were expressly forbidden from doing anything like that. It was so forbidden by my mother that she threatened to spank us with a switch (a switch is a very thin, bendy branch). That didn’t stop me sometimes, but there was definitely that very strong fear instilled, and that intense shame attached to it. Even thinking back on the things I did, I feel disgust. I feel dirty. Even though what I was doing wasn’t even wrong.   My mom pulled me from health class when we did the sex ed portions. I didn’t get to take sex ed until I was in 8 th  grade because I was told by the teacher that I would fail if I didn’t, so I made sure to not tell my mom about it. ...

Where to start? I made a mistake. A big one. I stopped writing. That's not to say that I never wrote. I have a journal I take with me every day. But I probably write in it every few months. But now I'm here, 8 years later. I mean, it's been 8 years. Why now? Well, I had kind of thought about it for a while but, you know, it takes energy. And, I dunno, who want's to read my ramblings? Well, I hope that my blog is found. And that you, the person reading this, are able to find what you are looking for. I don't care if I become popular or not. I don't plan on making money on this blog. I just want to be genuine. I want to help others. And I want to heal. See, it was today while making love to my husband that it occurred to me that I was having far fewer intrusive thoughts than usual. And I want to know why. He shaved his face today. Like, all of it. Beard and all. He has an unbelievably slappable face right now, much like how you want to slap a bare behind. It...