The Art of Opening Up

Life lessons on freedom, sharing, and human connection

Five and a half years after my marriage ended for good, I remain amazed at the level of self-discovery I’ve managed. I never imagined the level of love I could discover for myself or the strength and confidence I uncovered inside me. Exploring relationships, polyamory, sexuality, and the local kink community has added immense positive value to my life. Figuring out when and how to talk about my experiences, though? That’s been a more difficult part of the journey.

I write to express myself, to feed my soul, and to process the world around me, but without readers it wouldn’t be the same. For a long time, I hesitated to call myself an empath, but in the past couple years I’ve become more comfortable with it. Connecting with people is one of the core benefits I get from writing. Feeling alone can be devastating, I’ve been there. So when I can use my voice to help people feel less alone, it means a great deal to me.

Everyone has hidden parts, thoughts, feelings, and places inside them they are afraid to let into the light. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.

I learned to let fear go when it came to love and romance, but what about these deeper fears of judgement, persecution, and rejection?

Three years ago, I struggled with whether to publicly share my considerable involvement with the Bellingham Sex Positive Center (BSPC). I’d been involved as a member for about 18 months, and volunteering for a good chunk of that. When I was accepted to serve in leadership as a board member, I was proud of my achievement, and I wanted to share it.

But the world at large didn’t know how involved I was, or even that I was involved at all. I spent a portion of every single day on work related to the BSPC. Not only was it a huge part of my life, it was an integral part of how I became the person I am today. I was proud of the work I was doing, and it was important to me. I believe in the sex positive movement, in acceptance, in exploration and safe spaces. Beyond the work I was doing, this place had become my home, and the people I met there some of my dearest friends.

I’d already opened up some about being polyamorous and my role as moderator of a monthly polyamory discussion group, but I hesitated to share much about the other things that went on at the club. Most of the hesitation was based in fear of judgement and what people would think or assume about me. I knew that posting about my involvement there wasn’t the same thing as revealing my personal preferences or what I’m “into,” but I was fearful of opening up. When I finally decided to make a post on Facebook about it, I limited it to friends and barred several acquaintances from seeing it.

My split from the BSPC was painful, first stepping down from the board, then stepping down as a volunteer altogether. I was a core volunteer and event coordinator for 3+ years, and a board member for nearly two years. Grieving the role I played there took a very long time and was like loosing a home, losing my family. I miss so much about that community and the life I had being a part of it. Recently, it’s become clear that in the near future it might be possible to return and I’m hesitantly excited as the possibility of delving back in. This time, I don’t want to struggle. I want to talk about it.

I’ve slowly been exposing more and more parts of myself, and find great joy and freedom in sharing more about sex and sex positivity. The self-doubt and fear isn’t gone, but I’m breaking free of the control it’s had over me. We all have parts that don’t fit inside of boxes labeled ‘mainstream,’ and that’s okay.

More and more, I’m able to trust myself and my choices, and discuss them without editing out parts of who I am. Leaving out the alternative, less-accepted, less ‘normal’ parts of my journey would leave my story incomplete. The growth and blossoming I’ve managed would not have been possible without those parts.

Author Anne Lamott said

“We write to expose the unexposed. If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must (open the door)…You can’t do this without discovering your own true voice, and you can’t find your true voice and peer behind the door and report honestly and clearly to us if your parents are reading over your shoulder. They are probably the ones who told you not to open that door in the first place. You can tell if they’re there because a small voice will say, ‘Oh, whoops, don’t say that, that’s a secret,’ or ‘That’s a bad word,’ or ‘Don’t tell anyone you jack off. They’ll all start doing it.’ So you have to breathe or pray or do therapy to send them away. Write as if your parents are dead.”

I’m ready to open doors, to do anything I can to help other people find the courage to open the doors they’ve always longed to walk through but were too scared to go through alone. Protecting some image people have of me seems so much less important now than advocating for things I whole-heartedly believe in.

Fear of judgement is natural. In this culture, we are ingrained with the importance of fitting in, from the time we are small we are told not to rock the boat. We avoid discourse and conflict at all costs when we should be seeing them as ways to move forward.

My mother told me that at some point in life, somewhere around age 40, her desire to give a shit got broken. I am cresting that hill and it feels so good. So what if people think I’m weird? Do I really want to have people in my life that judge me and tell me the choices I’ve made are wrong? I am a smart, beautiful, desirable, capable, and saavy woman.

The sex positive movement is important to me. It’s supportive of the elimination of slut-shaming, the promotion of consent culture and education, the fostering of open-ness, and the embrace of our right to experience all those things we are curious about.

Speaking about relationships and polyamory are important to me. It supports my core belief that what works for people is what’s right for those people. It fosters acceptance and helps people see that different doesn’t always have to mean scary.

I want my feminism to include advocacy for gender-fluid, non-binary, and transgender women and people. I’m ready to talk about the places in our communities, like the BSPC, that provide safe spaces for people who feel marginalized. I need to contribute to the blossoming of cultural growth in the generations that follow mine, to help people realize that weird is relative and human connection is everything. I want to use my voice to erradicate the shame and embarrassment that surround sex and sexuality in our culture.

I’m ready.

As a strong proponent of changing our cultural narrative around sex-negativity, body-negativity, and closed-mindedness, I can do real good by using my voice. I believe in the choices I’ve made as an adult woman who is finding herself. I know that some people are taken aback at my desire to speak out loud about sex at all, let alone the things I have personally learned about it.

As I’ve let this fear fade and opened up the compartments I’d built inside, my voice has only grown stronger, and the stronger it gets, the more people seem to respond to it. I’m starting to see the ability to open up as the gift it is, and it’s time for me to share it.

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