I have spent the majority of thirty-four years worrying about what people think about me. Every time I write a post and get little more than one comment I worry that I’m doing something wrong with my blog.

Maybe I’m just not smart enough, funny enough, maybe I’m just not “special” enough to have thousands of people responding to my writing.

It hit me only today, I am enough and I don’t need thousands of comments to tell me so. I read blogs but rarely and I don’t often reply, usually because I have little to add to what it is I’ve read.

So why am I being so hard on myself?

I started writing online before it became a thing before it was about branding and making money I was sharing my views of the world, and even in the online world, I am largely a loner.

I’ve always thought that this song fits me to a tea – because as soon as people seem to want to gather around me, all I want to do is vanish. I don’t want people to rely on me, to trust me because what happens if I let them down? To me letting down someone I care about is probably the worst thing I could do. I’d hate to think that I’ve hurt people’s feelings and put anyone in the position of feeling as if I think they don’t matter.

I’ve spent years chasing people instead of just letting me be me. I was trying to find the quote from How I Met Your Mother, where Barney finally asks “Can’t I just be Me?” right before he realizes that the person we watched grow from Playboy to father over nine years is not the person he actually thought he was.

I totally resonate with that, for years I thought I was supposed to live in darkness and pain. For years I figured that every bad thing that happened to me was something that I deserved, my reaction to it was to lash out at those who wanted to get close – or alternatively refuse to let anyone in because I knew I just couldn’t handle one more person breaking my heart.

Years ago my friend Nickbits told me that “Not every man hits” I laughed, I laughed until my ribs hurt, because in my experience, yes, every man did hit. Not always with their fists, not always with their hands, but men seem to always know just how to hit a woman. Even if it’s words.

It’s not just men either – here’s something I’ve never written before. My relationship with my mother has had it’s ups and downs over the years, and she’s been incredibly emotionally abusive, as a fire element – as someone filled with fire and passion, I took those lessons and I passed it on.

I’m changing that cycle however, I am making the educated decision to release myself from anyone and everyone’s hold.

I want to switch gears and talk about BDSM for a moment.

For a lot of years, many of my relationships with men were Dominant and Submissive based relationships – not always with the contract either. It’s a role that I slip into and out of rather easily.

Certain men turn me to putty, and while I am now able to say “stop, no, I’m not interested” it still takes me longer to get there than I’d like.

I owe this self-discovery to a man who owns a slave – who actually is married to a slave, and treats her like a Queen. A man who has become my friend, and in some ways my mentor, as well as my friend Sir Stone. Both of these men are Dominants, and both of these men have taught me that no not all men hit. 

Some men are incredibly respectful and kind and loving, and some men can have sex with out it being rough or abusive.

Every time I’ve ever encountered a Witch or a See’er they tell me shit like “it’s your destiny to help people, to inspire them, you’re meant to be a healer” yeah, okay after everything you’ve read on my blog do I seem like a healer to you? I don’t think so, Mister.

I know what you are going to say, yeah I’m strong and inspiring and blah blah blah, HOWEVER, I don’t feel strong – not all the time. I don’t feel inspiring and I sure as fuck don’t see myself as a healer.

Here’s the thing though, this is all connected, even though it doesn’t seem like it. Part of being a Healer is to be apart of a community, I don’t like being apart of a community because again I say, I don’t ever want to let anyone down.

So before I can really help people I shove them away, I don’t want the responsibility of helping others – if everything goes well they say shit like “The Universe is on my side” if things flop then somehow some way it’s my damned fault. This does not appeal to me in any way shape or form.

And yet.

I see so many young women struggling with life and I just want to shake them and say “you don’t have to go down that road, you don’t have to vanish and disappear into the darkness, I’m here and I love you.” because I know that if someone had said that to me as a kid maybe I wouldn’t have had to fight so hard to survive. To just get from one day to the next.

Recently I started to notice all these people following me on Twitter and at first it’s like “hey that’s cool, Nancy Sinatra’s daughter is following me; hey that’s cool Gavin Rossdale is following me.” but more and more I start to ask why the fuck these amazingly beautiful strong loving kind people are following me.

You know what you’re really saying when you ask that question? You’re really asking yourself why these people think you matter enough to want to be updated on what you’re saying.

It means that these people who have been successful in their lives, who have inspired others to find YOU inspiring and that’s pretty cool.

We keep hearing the words “love yourself and the world will follow.” well I haven’t been loving myself, not even in the last couple of years where I’ve been making some really amazingly powerful changes to my life. I’ve been hiding, shaming myself – I cut everyone who shamed me out of my life, but I was so used to feeling useless, unloved and unwanted that in a strange way I almost missed feeling like crap – there’s a sick comfort in that.

Just after I decided I no longer needed nor wanted a man to Dominate me I discovered this little tidbit;

Self-defeating personality disorder (also known as masochistic personality disorder) was a proposed personality disorder. It was discussed in an appendix of the manual’s revised third edition (DSM-III-R) in 1987, but was never formally admitted into the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM).

Huh! Well isn’t that interesting as fuck.

I think that we become so used to feeling like crap, that the isolation feeds that – when we don’t have others to make us feel like shit we do it to ourselves because we’ve never really known “love.”

Well, I don’t know about you but I don’t want “I disappear” to be my theme song. I want my theme song to be something epic and beautiful and amazing. I want my theme song to be “For those about to Rock” it’s a way cooler song, it’s a salute to all we’ve suffered, to all we’re going to suffer to become amazing phenomenal rock stars in our own right.

Damn it, I’m about to rock, and I’m not going to let the pain of the past, the shame or guilt or fear of what might happen, what might not happen, stop me from living my best life.

I’m over it. I’m over disappearing and being alone, I want to belong, I want to find my tribe and grow and inspire and help others and nothing and no one is going to stop me. Not this time.

I’m sending all my love, in hopes you too, Decide to Rock.