Why I Overshare...
If you have spoken to me in real life, it will come as no surprise that I am a bit of an over sharer. My broken vagina updates come up as a regular topic at various blog events and if I take a particularly noteworthy poop, I’m more than happy to offer a detailed description. Hey - I have never pretended to be classy!
But I do it for so many reasons and I have come to love my oversharing self. Sometimes when I share things, I’ll get private messages from people who can relate but thought they were weird. By hearing me normalise these thoughts, feelings or experiences, they are able to get help, or laugh it off. Whether it’s mental health related, or vaginismus, people will tell me that I helped them and that’s what I love. Sometimes people will tell me that they can’t relate, but I made them laugh and I love that even more. Sometimes I just want you to enjoy the fact that you’re not me! Schadenfreude.
I would love to be a “proper” lifestyle blogger, eating macarons, surrounded by peonies and spending days at the spa with beautiful friends. But I’m not. I’m awkward and silly and anything but cool. I eat Skittles in bed naked, surrounded by cat hair and watch the Office US boxset for the three hundredth time. And that’s okay too. Because some of you are more like that. You have your aspirational creators, and then you have your relatable creators. Then you have me. Whose job is to make you feel better about yourself!
So, I’m not going to tell you about rooftop cocktails or my 5 step facial cleanse routine (I barely remember to take my makeup off at night as it is - I’m the worst) but instead I’m going to tell you about how we didn’t have sex during the first trimester because I was worried the motion would make me vomit. I’m going to tell you about the time I had chlamydia (through no fault of my own) and how I once had an awkward mishap with a strawberry in the bedroom that almost resulted in a trip to A&E. I’m also going to talk about my crippling OCD and how sometimes the thought of walking up stairs makes me cry. And I’m going to talk about being an 18 year old Anne Summers rep, rolling an Argos suitcase full of dildos onto a bus.
Because that’s real life. It’s not sexy, or impressive and sometimes the pictures shouldn’t be put on Instagram, but it’s how things are. So hopefully my oversharing is the reason some of you read my blog. If only to be glad that your vagina works and doesn’t have the remains of a fruit salad inside... but that’s a story for another time...!