My comment yesterday about the human cock, worried some friends. Maybe they think I’m going to start writing about sex. I don’t feel a need to give you the details of something so sacred to me. Some things are best kept private.

In finding a more authentic self, do I need to tell everything?

If so, it will fall to the pages of a journal. You read about my past loves quite frequently, but I don’t use their name. What you read is what I learned from the encounter, not always the encounter itself.

I wasn’t ready for most of what happened in my life, so why would I expect you to be. Placing a name to the feelings I may be wrestling with is like blaming them for what I feel. No darling. I’m a big girl, and I make my own choices.

I feel at a very infinite level. There is scar tissue inside of me, not only from the Breast Cancer, but life itself. The scars are proof enough I showed up for it, and you get to read the beauty of it. There is enough hurt in the world. I am here to share the healing.