On living alone, break-up sex, and Hinge dates. (Part 1)
A summer update. Full post & audio narration for the paid subscribers.
I’d like to apologize for being AWOL, but realistically it won’t be an authentic apology. I couldn’t have changed the course of events even if I tried, and I did try. Every day for a couple weeks, until every third day recently, I’ve been feeling the urge to post. But before I know it, my inner critic sets in telling me: What are you going to write about? How sad you are? You are so fucking pathetic, go crawl in a hole and hide until you get your shit together. And who knew my inner voice was just so cruel? I stopped listening to her words for the longest time (or so I thought), but her feeling of distain and judgement can still trip me up me on the bad days.
Some of you know I’ve been going through a break-up recently, and if you follow me on SP or MNLP, you know there’s been some very hot break-up sex happening for public consumption. What you don’t probably know (but possibly suspect), are the desperate nights where my mind doesn’t stop running, the physical fear that creeps up when I’m in my home alone, or even the abandonment loops that keep on replaying. I think it’s the most fragmented I have felt in a very long time, trying to hold down the fort, work, friends, build a community, while not allowing myself to drown in my feelings. Not knowing which side of myself I should let others see, and wondering if my internals are too ugly be shared. My heart is racing as I’m typing this, but I remind myself that my art, my expression, and how I show up in the world, is this particular blend of honesty and authenticity. The kind of stark reality that includes a certain dose of darkness and despair. So for you dear Substack subscribers, let me excavate my innards…