NATURISM

So, I Am a Naturist — Why Tell the World?

Becoming vulnerable by choice in an increasingly dangerous world

Trigger warning! Read knowing that this might be a very uncomfortable tale of truth.

By now, most who follow me here on Medium know that I am a naturist, a man who deliberately chooses to take the opportunity to shed his clothing, particularly in natural settings. Now, why in hell would a supposedly intelligent man even consider this outlier behaviour?

I guess it helps to start from the beginning even though it might be a longish story. When I was a child of seven, I was sexually molested by a priest. I was an introverted child, a trusting child. My response was to retreat even more, hiding behind an urgent need to please everyone.

A few years later, in a different town, at the age of ten, another priest sexually molested me. A third priest in yet a different town attempted to do the same when I was thirteen, but I reacted and resisted and I quit going to church. This was earth-shattering as I had been groomed by family to become a priest, and I had believed it was my calling.

Fast forward a few years to when I was seventeen when my grandfather saw an opportunity to get comfort and support, including a sexual component, following the death of his wife. He molested me.

The abuse by my grandfather ate at me. I was seventeen and I should have stopped him. I blamed myself rather than him.

My grandmother had given me two books of poetry before her death. One was a collection of poems in a red, hard-cover binding, and the second was a book called The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.

A year later, I took the book into a forested area near the house where we had moved. I somehow found myself alone, deep in the forest. Inexplicably, I took off my clothes, sat down on them and began to read. For two hours I was at peace, something I hadn’t experienced before.

The absence of fear while deep in the woods, banished the dark shadows which continually haunted me during those two hours. That was my first deliberate act of naturism though I didn’t know it at the time. Why it took nudity in nature to give me a reprieve from fear, wasn’t a question I asked myself. It was all a visceral and psychological experience.

Now, fast forward to being a father of three children and having the shadows again pressing intently, with a corresponding descent into depression. My past had been wiped out of my memory, but the pull to find a quiet place in nature to be free of clothing began to reassert itself. Then, I went into therapy and I began the process of becoming a therapist.

With therapy, I regained a bit of my life and was able to function enough to finish my career as an educator. Despite the gains, the shadows continued to press and nightmares became darker and crazier. Twice more I went into intensive rounds of therapy.

It was then, when I began to steal moments to myself, moments in nature where I could be free, a freedom which had dropping my clothing into a neat pile while I meditated.

So why is telling you this important? My wife is always asking me why I find it necessary to tell the whole world I’m a naturist rather than keep it private. I guess the best answer that I can give, is the answer I gave her, that in keeping it all private, there is an oppressive sense that I am hiding in a closet, hiding out of fear.

In order to stay safe, something I physically had to do as a child and youth. I had hidden in boxes, in closets, and anywhere elsewhere hoping to be safe. In the past as I got older, though still a youth, I learned to hide within myself, build barriers so that I would not be seen and thus not hurt, as much. As an adult, the barriers were thick, so thick that I lost track of what had been hidden in efforts to protect my self along with all the garbage, the history and the shame.

I was a successful, very successful teacher, coach and therapist. Even though I am an introvert, I was able to be active enough in the community to be respected. It all worked until the barriers began crumbling.

I am somewhat of a slow learner when it comes to dealing with change. I spent years trying to patch up the cracks with no success. When it finally became evident I couldn’t stop the collapse of the dam holding back all I had denied about myself, denied to myself, to my wife, to my family and to the world, I ran — literally.

And when running everyday through blizzards and all sorts of weather failed to give me the release I needed, failed to slow down the flood of contents spilling out into my life, I began to run in a different way. I found myself becoming a principal in a new school every year until the last school where it seemed there was no where else left to run. I was the principal at this final school for three years before retiring.

Still, the running continued as I hurried from country to country with camera in hand, hoping the distractions would be enough. Despite the running, despite a return to meditation and becoming a Buddhist, despite a return to naturism and of taking the opportunity to relax in retirement, I found I still continued to deny myself. I was hiding who I was and how I was.

My wife was [and still is] a wise lady. It was her idea to have me tell this story in a blog post back in 2013 when we were in Puerto Morelos, Mexico. The post got sent out to everyone who was connected to me on Facebook [Meta]. There was no more denying who I was and what my journey of healing needed from me.

And now, you know why the images I often use for blog posts here, and with my poetry, are naturist images. They aren’t there to titillate the reader. They are about telling the truth about my adoption of naturism as therapy.

Good answers? Who knows. It is what it is.

Thinking of my friends and hoping your earnings go up accordingly — [smile and hugs].

Carrie, Author, D. Denise Dianaty, Benighted, Brian Lageose, Jenine “Jeni” Baines, ComedyChronicles, Block Wife, Sweet Honeylu, Love, Mariana Busarova, Rena Aliston, Julia A. Keirns, Michael Cappelli, Daniel Shaw, Matesanz⚕️, DMax, and RogueWorldTraveler