Anus Horribilis?

2018, thus far, has been something of a tough year for me. For personal reasons that I’d rather not go into my mental health has been on, but not great, and at times, often in sporadic patches, my self-confidence has been through the floor.

I don’t like me when I’m feeling like that. The me that’s full of insecurity and anxiety, that clams up, catastrophises, and is constantly looking for affirmation and reassurance. I feel like I’ve forgotten the progress I’ve made over the last five years.

But that’s not everything. I’ve made a number of (triumphant?) returns. I was at Eroticon this year; I had films shown at the London Porn Film Festival and Porn Film Festival Berlin. I’ve written (almost all of) a new short erotica piece (my first in well over a year).

This year has also seen some firsts. My partner and I gave workshops at KinkFest; I’m making a documentary film; I’ve done some freelance writing (note to self, get back to that article you’re meant to be writing); I’ve got potential film projects in the pipeline ranging from musical shorts to furry drama (you read that right). I had a one-on-one rope lesson with Hajime Kinoko (well, kind of three-in-one). There’s actually a lot of this to unpack when I start thinking about it.

And I also realise that, even at its worst, I’m in a much better place than in 2014. I have financial stability, a home, complete with loving partner and cat. I’m able to pursue my rather daft hobbies with few restrictions. I’m doing ok, a little wobbly in places, but that’s to be expected right?

Oh and I haven’t even mentioned the bagpipes…