You may be different but when I look at the majority of my friends, a discussion about personal boundaries never comes up. We fall into routines with the people around us and base our future decisions on past behaviour. It might not be that the friends you usually only grab monthly weekend drinks with aren’t into spontaneous fun on a weekday; maybe you’ve just never asked them. Shit, maybe they’re wondering the same thing about you!

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently and asking myself how many of my relationships are defined by true boundaries compared to expectations and assumptions? Maybe I’m not giving my friends or lovers a chance by putting them into a certain category in my mind. Maybe they’re not giving me the same chance. Maybe I’m restricting myself without even realizing it.

What are the fences I'm putting up, and are they as obvious as this?

We can fall into patterns with people we care about. Roles get defined without us realizing that it’s happening. I don’t find out if some friends (or lovers) want to chat on the phone or hang out for impromptu dinner because I just assume that they don’t since we never have. I edit the sides of myself that different friends see, based on my own assumption that they wouldn’t be interested in the rest of me. At times when people I never talk about my non-monogamy with tell me that they read my blog, I feel like slapping myself in the face for making a blatant assumption of how they view me.

Society does nothing to help us address our personal boundaries and more importantly how to share them. While we’re encouraged in some media to stand up for ourselves, embrace our differences and do what makes us happy, we are left to our own devices when it comes to actually relaying how we do these things to others. You’re just supposed to be there for your friends and should automatically know what that means.

I’m learning that I haven’t been very good at managing my assumptions about others. I always like to joke that non-monogamy is similar to having different friends for different purposes; a gym buddy, a movie buddy, the get blottoed buddies and so on, but I don’t think that I’ve been fair to those around me – or to myself – by pigeonholing everyone I care about.

On Conflict

I had another big revelation this week involving how I deal with conflict, specifically issues that I need to share with other people. In that, for the most part, I don’t. So much of my time is spent being outwardly focused, being there for others that need me or responding to their feelings about things I have done. I don’t tell people about things that have hurt my feelings because I don’t want to give them bad feelings. This is a result of a few things including; a) me always being the strong one growing up – being there for family and friends whose problems seemed so much more important than mine ; and b) many years of trying to talk to Steph about different things I was feeling, only to end those conversations reassuring him that he didn’t need to feel guilty or frustrated but without my issue actually being resolved.

I’m afraid to confront people. I’m afraid that by sharing my boundaries, needs or feelings, that I will either be spending time telling the other people it’s ok OR that I will be told that I am wrong for feeling those things in the first place.

So I keep quiet, and adjust my own personal boundaries. The key step that I’m missing though is that moment when I share with other people either a) if there’s a conflict or b) that I just need some time to deal with stuff on my own. I don’t feel like anyone’s going to notice when my behaviour changes. I make an assumption that relationships will simply adapt to my new thoughts, because I have no idea how to communicate to those that matter what I’m really feeling; what’s going on with my head, what I need. I’m programmed to help people, not help myself.

I don’t WANT to be needy. It’s in my blood to be there for others and I want to be able to always give myself to their needs at a moment’s notice. However, this idealistic view that I used to follow in the past doesn’t match up to my current needs. As I grow older, I learn more about the things I require from myself and my friends to live a happy, safe and loving life and I make assumptions that people will just know what those things are, without me actually communicating them. Sharing a few things here and there on the internet is certainly not an accurate representation of who I truly am and what I truly need, even if I am an “over-sharer”.

Strangely enough, the people who I feel the most comfortable just verbally vomiting all over are the dominants in my life. I am not hesitant to ask them if I’m sharing too much, or crossing the lines because I’m afraid of the consequences. I should show other people similar respect and allow them to tell me their own boundaries instead of assuming that they understand my own.

With all of the above soaking into my brain, I’m accepting that I may not be as good a friend as I aspire to be. When it comes to boundaries, I haven’t been sharing mine with others and made my own decisions on others, without asking them. With expectations and assumptions, I have simply expected that people are not interested in what I have to say, so I let the relationships I have remain as they are. I also assume that people can’t handle my conflict or will react negatively to it, for no fault of their own but because I’m afraid of being wrong for having my own feelings or for feeling guilty for not being 100% there for their needs because I have my own. Then I go and focus on my own needs anyway, and end up making others feel shitty.

If I don’t tell them that they’ve done something that sucks; I suck too.

We are all wired differently and I realize that I have to learn to communicate my boundaries, expectations and assumptions with everyone I care about. I have to give people the chance to react to me in their own way and I have to treat myself with more respect than I obviously have been. Point taken, self.

Rejection is a funny thing. Our reaction to it is rarely logical. Having someone tell me that they still wanted me but couldn’t be with me because of something I had no control over made my brain implode. I knew it wasn’t really rejection of me. I knew I was still held in high regard. I knew that it wasn’t me, it was them.

It didn’t matter though. I still felt like I had failed. Like I wasn’t good enough. Or pretty enough. Or thin enough. Or or or or or …

It’s hard to get over our rejection self-absorption to accept that we are not the only person driving the decisions in our relationships with others. We all want our independence when things are going well, but suddenly when they are going south we expect that our lovers, our partners, our friends should do what we want them to because it makes sense to OUR hearts, ignoring what makes sense to theirs. This was my lesson of 2011 and I am holding it close to my chest in 2012.

Anyway. I’m actually getting to a story.

A couple of weeks ago I was about to go absolutely crazy on a crush friend. I will call him, um, Frank. So Frank and I have known each other, not well, for at least 6 years. He’s the only person I’ve crushed on since before we were open which means I hold him in some sort of strange high regard as if he’s from my “before time”. We’d run into each other occasionally and both Steph and I always enjoyed our chats with him. I have always liked Frank for being, in no particular order, good lookin’, funny, super nice and for having the aura of someone with naughty interests.

When we ran into each other last September and drunkenly confessed to finding each other attractive, I didn’t believe it. The sexy text messages that confirmed it read like make believe. I needed to see it in person to truly before.

Somehow, to my own surprise, a couple of months later, we finally had a night out in a local bar. We got drunk and flirted and made out. My brain was all “what the fuck is happening?” because it was too good to be true. Now I’m wondering if it was. Unfortunately that evening, Steph was coming to pick me up and he happened to catch Frank and I making out on the street. Being the amazingly unphased fellow that he is, Steph was fine with it. Frank however, was not. He freaked out and felt terrible. He fell off the radar for weeks and I had to chalk it up to something on his end.

AS MUCH AS I TOLD MYSELF I WAS PROBABLY UGLY OR WEIRD OR SOMETHING.

Then finally we reconnected and started making plans for some sexy time. Then he cancelled because he was too hung over, which irritated me immensely. Then I cancelled because I had period cramps, which irritated me immensely. And then he stood me up because of an emergency, in front of my friends, which embarrassed me, but I forgave once he explained. Somehow, after all of this, I was still interested and finally ended up in his place. On his couch. Next to his face.

It was odd. It’s always strange to sit next to someone who’s sent you a text about how many orgasms they’re going to give you, like it’s regular conversation that we could have verbally. You want to say “So, about those orgasms …”, but then you don’t. Well maybeif you’re me, sometimes you do …

Eventually we made out. It was great. I found it hard to believe that I was kissing this hot guy I’d liked for so long and he was actually into me. Those texts were real!

Then it stopped. He looked at me and said he had to be honest. Every time he kissed me, he was thinking of my husband. Not in a sexual way, of course, but because he felt guilty. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was ok, but still there was that nagging feeling that he was doing something wrong. I didn’t know how to respond. I have forgotten what it’s like to not be familiar with non-monogamy. Once I gathered my thoughts and saved myself from freaking out on him, it was almost impossible to stop the “I’m being rejected.” thoughts from flooding in.

I told myself that he was saying the guilty stuff as a way of getting out of making out with me. He realized that I was terrible at it so he invented a believable excuse that I couldn’t argue with. I’m just not pretty enough. I’m too fat. I’m too forward.

Then I mentally slapped myself and realized; it’s not me, it’s him. He was sitting there feeling terrible about the whole thing. Telling me that he was having a panic attack and guilty feelings when he kissed me. Telling me how excited he was to be with me and how much he enjoyed my company and was really into me. And what did I do? I asked him for reassurance that he still wanted to touch my vagina. My self esteem used the situation as an excuse to talk about itself. My self esteem needed to take a chill pill, but it was hard. We sat there, feeling quite awkward for a little bit, until we were able to relax. I gave him a massage because I just wanted to touch the guy and we chatted about other things. Was I disappointed that all my orgasmic dreams weren’t coming true? Absolutely. I’m feeling a little hopeless at the moment that, even with my slow help, he’s just not built for non-monogamy and there won’t be anything I can do to change that, no matter how much we both want it. I’m giving him some space for now because I’ve realized that I can’t push it. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out and I will be ok.

In contrast to how Samantha from 2011 would have reacted, I am slowly learning that it doesn’t matter how much I want it to happen; even how much HE wants it to happen. He has his own complicated feelings that I cannot change. I have to stop telling myself that I should have worn a different outfit or put my hair in a different style. None of that matters. He’s into me, but non-monogamy is unfamiliar territory.

It’s not me. It’s him. And I am strangely, calmly ok with that. Finally.

Being open to having a threesome with him is a great plan. It may be exactly the right thing for the two of you to get a huge sexual spark, however I worry about it being with the woman he cheated with. Here’s a few points to consider:

You see, I have a confession to make. I’m a fat kid; you probably already know that. But what you might not know is how evil I am to myself because of it. How I’ve let my inner voices rule my decisions, my self-worth and my motivation for years. Forever, really. This is what I’m having trouble admitting to myself, and to you. I don’t really like to talk about my weight struggles much, outside of acknowledging that they’re there, however I have to now. I feel like I cannot move forward and share with you other sexy stories, other activist-like posts and so on, without being 100% honest with everyone about what I’m thinking all the time, under the surface. All. The. Time.

Fat in Grade 10. And obsessed with Shaq. Can you dig it?

After finally separating my self-worth from my body image, years ago, I thought I was free and clear of all that negativity. Who was I kidding? Sure, I reached a point where I realized that I could be valued as a person with opinions, fears, ideas and personality – and that had little to do with the size of my ass, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve always been comfortable with myself. Just comfortable enough to get by and fake it. I would say that’s a pretty successful and content place to be.

Then 2011 happened. 2011, or as I like to bitterly think of it as, “The year that my heart was stomped on and I allowed my confidence to be removed out from underneath me.” Never mind the fact that I had three relationships end; the most serious one of all dragged on with empty promises and ill intentions. And what was worse was that I allowed it to for far too long until I just physically could not take it anymore. But the damage was done.

Somewhere along the way, the mixed messages full of compliments and rejection broke me. Those two separate bubbles of self worth and body image became one again and I began to once again tell myself, deep in my sub conscious, that I wasn’t worth anything because I’m fat. To add insult to injury, I actually gained weight last year and took terrible care of myself. And not just a little weight, but enough that my comforting tights that have fit for years suddenly don’t anymore. I got dressed this morning, into a favorite dress, and it was tight and I felt terrible in it. And my tights wanted to fall down. And my underwear wouldn’t stay over my belly. Because it’s too big. And I just wanted to crawl under a rock and melt away.

The reason I’m writing this out isn’t for you. I think that’s pretty clear at this point in this sappy, emo post. I’m writing this post to finally admit to myself all of the hurtful and harmful things I tell myself without realizing. This is me coming face to face with all of my inner demons and starting down the path to set them free.

“I am a lazy, fat slob.”

This is a perfect example of a sentence that I have told myself for years. Of course I would never say it out loud to anyone else, unless it was in jest; instead it’s always remained at the surface, like a little invisible monster that nobody sees but me.

I must be lazy because if I wasn’t I would work out more, right? I must be a slob because otherwise I wouldn’t feel hungry enough to eat that one bite more than you had. I must be not worth dating because I have a larger tummy than I should have for this body.

Right???

I think a lot of us fat folk tell ourselves we’re lazy far too often. We’re so used to failing that it just makes sense that we’re lazy. Might as well just accept that fact and get on with it.

If I don’t want to go to store on the weekends, I’m lazy. If I don’t put my laundry away, I’m lazy. If I don’t do anything but sit on the couch and binge on Netflix, I’m lazy. Ok, well that one counts. Point is though, I tell myself that everything I do (or rather “don’t do”) is because I’m lazy. Because everything connects to how I feel about my body and being lazy is what makes sense.

Except I’m not lazy actually. Well, on a Saturday morning I am. In fact, most mornings I am, but I prefer to call that “night owl syndrome”, not laziness. Anyway, I digress. It took a good friend pointing out to me that when I want something, I pour my heart and soul into it. Last year when I planned Digifest, and my baby, Playground, I gave my absolute all to those events. So much so that I ended up with a 5 day flu that had me barely able to walk to the toilet after they were finished. I worked about 40/50 days straight, barely stopping to pee or MSN for months leading up to the events.

And yet, my inner voice would still tell myself that I was a lazy failure. And some illogical part of my psyche would agree, and the self-hate would perpetuate.

What I’ve learned from my friends’ advice is that I can, and DO, succeed at things when I really want them. It has nothing to do with being a slob, instead it has everything to do with motivation. I succeeded at writing 220 pages of my book but have yet to finish the remaining 30. How could I be so motivated for the majority, but fail on the rest? I’ve been secretly telling myself I’m a failure for over a year because of it, but I’m sure I’m simply scared instead.

A similar story is to be told when it comes to my weight. It’s not that I have no idea how to be healthy. I’ve done so many good (and bad) things to lose weight and get healthy over the years. Bernstein, Weight Watchers, anorexia, bulimia, a personal trainer, working out at home, yoga, WiiFit, changing my diet … blah blah blah. I know the things that work, and with many of those things I’ve been relatively successful. Then something would change in my life and I’d move on to either something else … or nothing at all.

“Get back in the gym!” “Stop eating that cheese!” “Stop being a baby and just lose the weight already!”

I get it. Some of you might want to yell those things at me. Some of you might have been born with excellent metabolisms and the ability to wake up in the morning and work out without feeling like ass. You might have not had experiences with body hatred. Or maybe you have, and have gotten over it and forget how hard it is. Your parents might have never gotten divorced and lived across the country. You might have more than just one parent left alive. You might have never been mocked with fat phobic remarks like I have been my entire life. And while I don’t resent you your body privilege or ability to go go go, and while I won’t deny envying you, I will defend my right to be fucked up because of those things as the reason I am writing this confession to you now. It certainly doesn’t help that the first time I ever lost any fat I was anorexic, bulimic and an obsessive exerciser all at the same time. Because if there’s ONE thing I’m good at, it’s multi-tasking.

In order for me to succeed, I have to want to be successful. My lack of energy to try isn’t because I’m lazy, it’s because I’m unmotivated and absolutely terrified.

The absolute 100% truth in the matter is that I am pretty convinced that whatever I start to do for weight loss and muscle gain – I will fail in. And this is the battle I am up against. This stupid inner voice telling me that this time will be just like the rest. That I will have some success but then I will lose focus and get fat again. That I will never NOT be the girl who takes up too much space on the subway seats. That I will always be the girl who can’t wear heels because I’m too heavy and weak to hold myself up. And of course I will always be the girl pulling up my tights or my pants because they don’t fit me perfectly as there’s just too much fat there.

I WILL ALWAYS FAIL SO WHY EVEN BOTHER TRYING???

I don’t want to think that anymore. I don’t want to be distant with my husband because I can’t bare to take his compliments when I’m hating myself. I don’t want to avoid putting my laundry away because it makes me see all of the clothes I look terrible in. I’m finally trying to start owning it. I’m finally acknowledging those inner demons and trying to acknowledge every time, or at least more often, when I feed myself hateful language. I have only just started to realize how hateful and mean I have been to myself for years. And years. And years. I have let the fact that I have a large stomach rule almost everything I do, without even realizing it was happening. What’s funny is that I am comfortable as a big girl. I *could* be a smaller girl, but I’d be happy as a curvy girl forever. I have no big desire to be skinny. I mainly just want my tummy to go away. And I want to love myself again. And feel sexy. And give my love to others.

And fit into my fucking tights.

Now I just have to figure out which direction my baby steps need to go in and who can help me along this path. Because being stuck in my own head is obviously not working for me.

Let’s do this.

Please note: I am not looking for sympathy as a result of this post. I’ll take empathy and hugs, questions about what I’ve tried and what I haven’t, followed by suggestions if you have them. I didn’t write this or share it to have you tell me I’m pretty. I AM pretty, and smart, and sexy and pretty talented at a lot of things. I haven’t forgotten any of this stuff; the narcissist in me won’t let me. I just needed to share with the world. It’s a bit of a compulsion I have. If I tell the world what’s going on, I can’t pretend it’s not happening anymore. Thank you for reading this far. You’re probably a pretty awesome person and I hope lots of people love you.

Odds are there is someone in your life who is spending their evenings slaying Dragons and amassing treasure in the most played game of 2011, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Skyrim is an open world role playing game (RPG) created by Bethesda Softworks and is set in a fictional, mostly medieval, swords and sorcery land called, Tamriel. It is a game where I expected to be killing and looting, but never expected to be slut-shaming.

In the game players are able to create an avatar for themselves, choosing a race, a gender, a name, many physical characteristics and a style of play. Will you be a warrior, a thief, a wizard or some hybrid? The nuance in the game comes from having the player face moral dilemmas along the way. Through these myriad choices the player’s avatar takes on its spiritual form. Will you be a righteous defender of justice? Will you be a mercenary for hire? Will you be a healer or will you practice blood magic? Will you steal all of the gold or just most of the gold? During my playthrough I have robbed just about everyone blind and I have murdered in cold blood. By my current statistics, the game tells me that I have killed 1081 people and about 1300 other various zombies, animals, robots and demons (most of whom I have stabbed in the back). I have stolen 2498 items, including 1659 straight from my victim’s pockets. So why did I take such umbrage at being asked to slut-shame a woman in her own home?

In a town called Riften we can rummage around a place called Haelga’s Bunkhouse. Haelga runs a dormitory for the blue-collar workers of Riften along with her Niece, Svana. Speaking with Svana will open up a miscellaneous quest that knocked me out of the fantasy world of Tamriel. It brought me back into a world where at least one in four western women will be sexually assaulted in their lifetimes and where women’s clothing choices are brought forth as justification by authority figures for random sexual attacks; where girls in schools everywhere are ostracized for their choice to become sexual beings or even just the rumour that they have. I don’t like this world. This world makes women ashamed of their bodies and afraid to express themselves sexually and freely. I hated that my fantasy gaming was colliding with such ugly reality.

Svana was orphaned and her Aunt Haelga took her in. Svana is an adult and cleans to pay her room and board. Seems like a fair deal to me, but Svana has other ideas about that.

“Work? I suppose you can call it that. I call it slavery. I work my fingers to the bone keeping this disgusting place clean.

Ever since my parents died and Haelga took me in it’s been a nightmare. How was I to know she was such a wretched woman?”

And what is it that makes Haelga so “Wretched”?

“It’s not just the work. It’s everything about her. She’s disgusting. I think she takes her worship of Dibella a bit too seriously. Do you know she slept with three different men in the last month alone? What kind of woman would do such a thing? Just for once I’d like to see her squirm…to rub her nose in it.”

Yes, rub her nose in it. Like you might a dog that has ruined your rug. This is an unattached woman having consensual and spiritual sex in her own home. For reference, Dibella is the in-game deity of love, and sex to her followers is a religious observance. So, what are my dialogue choices for responding to this diatribe?

“There must be a way.”

One choice. In a game full of choices, I can either go along with this or walk away. At no point am I given the option to talk her out of this – to say “hey, maybe you’re being a little hard on the woman that took you in after your parents were murdered.” Or, “it’s none of your business what she does in her bedroom.” Or, “do you think she’d be open to a fourth lover this month?” No, the only option is an enthusiastic “Ya, let’s teach that whore a lesson.” And from a gameplay standpoint, such a response is not in character with the hero I’ve created, but no alternative choice was given.

Svana continues.

“Actually, there is. But I don’t think I could get away with doing it. She’d kill me if she found out. You see, after she makes love she gives her partner a token of her affection called a Mark of Dibella. If you confront her with three of the Marks, she’d be so embarrassed… well, I don’t know what she’d do.”

At this stage I can tell Svana, “Sure. I’ll help you” or “Maybe another time.” Such a polarity of choices. So, off I am sent to retrieve these baubles of shame from the three men. On my way though, I can enjoy some of the contextual flavour that the game designers provided for this quest. I can visit Haelga’s bedroom where a pot of honey and potions of stamina rest on shelves. Her nightstand includes two erotic novels. Her bed has working shackles and underneath we find an animal tusk and leather strips i.e. a dildo and whip. The message here presumably is that Haelga enjoys a kinky sexual lifestyle and is therefore even more worthy of degradation than your average sexually active woman. Under the other side of the bed are some gold coins. A suggestion that Haelga is compensated for her abilities? Additionally we can read a love letter addressed to Haelga from one of her paramours.

“Sweet Haelga,

Last night was the most wonderful night of my life. The things you showed me…the things we did… I could never have dreamt that it was possible. Who even knew that someone could manipulate their body in that manner while wearing Daedric Armor boots? You are a true master of the Dibellan arts, my love… a credit to your religion. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon but next time allow me to bring the trout.

Your secret lover.”

Poor joke aside, everybody seems happy. Time to destroy that, I guess. Makes sense. The three men offer little resistance. One gives me some righteous indignation, one feigns ignorance and one pleads for discretion. You see, he’s married. I wonder, why am I not rubbing HIS face in it? With little effort on my part these three gentlemen sell Haelga out and give me the Marks. After confronting Haelga with the evidence of her rampant sluttiness we are given this response.

“What? How?…Where did you get these? No. Don’t tell me. Look, we need to keep this quiet…between you and me, okay? No one else needs to know about it. If word got out that I was practicing my Dibellan arts in Riften, they’ll run me out of town. Here, take this and don’t mention a word of this to anyone, especially, Svana!”

Still protecting her ungrateful niece after all this time. Svana however, is positively tickled at her aunt’s shaming.

“Isn’t it wonderful? I bet she was squirming like a skeever when you pulled them out of your pocket. I think things are going to be a lot different around here from now on and I have you to thank for it.”

Well, that’s one less brazen hussy terrorizing the penises of poor Tamriel. Such a noble endeavour. I think my problem with this quest was the lack of any kind of moral spectrum. She was either a wanton whore and therefore in need of punishment or I could just choose to not do the quest. There was never a time when I could side with Haelga. Haelga’s lifestyle was never to be considered positive. Some people may say, why make such a big deal about this? It’s just a throwaway quest in a massive game where you are able to commit atrocities against your fellow man and woman. This is true, but it’s small things like this that are so pervasive and surprisingly influential.

We all know that killing is wrong. We all know that theft is wrong. We all know that raising the dead is wrong (and unlikely). There are way too many of us however that do not know that slut-shaming is wrong and continue to use it as emotional blackmail or worse, an excuse for violence. By denying the player the option to be sex-positive it perpetuates the problem. Bethesda really missed an opportunity to not necessarily take a stand, but to let the player at least make that choice. Because choice is what RPGs are supposed to be about.

_______________________________________________________________
Bobby Arthur is a freelance writer and marketing communications professional living in Toronto. He can be reached at bobby@thejuiceagency.ca and his XBLA Gamertag is WhiskerRub.

APPENDIX: ​FULL DIALOGUE

Svana:​ Work? I suppose you can call it that. I call it slavery. I work my fingers to the bone keeping this disgusting place clean.

Ever since my parents died and Haelga took me in it’s been a nightmare. How was I to know she was such a wretched woman? So now I’m stuck living here while those pigs she calls customers grope me and say the most awful things.

You:​​ Why do you hate Haelga so much?

Svana: ​It’s not just the work. It’s everything about her. She’s disgusting. I think she takes her worship of Dibella a bit too seriously. Do you know she slept with three different men in the last month alone? What kind of woman would do such a thing? Just for once I’d like to see her squirm…to rub her nose in it.

You:​​ There must be a way.

Svana: ​Actually, there is. But I don’t think I could get away with doing it. She’d kill me if she found out. You see, after she makes love she gives her partner a token of her affection called a Mark of Dibella. If you confront her with three of the Marks, she’d be so embarrassed… well, I don’t know what she’d do.

You:​​ Sure. I’ll help you. OR Maybe another time.

Svana:​ Oh, this is going to be great! You need to get the Marks of Dibella from Bolli, Hofgrir and Indalyn. Not sure how you’re going to do that, but try your best. Then just confront Haelga with them and the rest works itself out. Try and get those Marks without violence please. I don’t want to be responsible for their deaths…or yours.

AFTER RETURNING WITH THE MARKS

Haelga:​ Can I help you?
You: ​​I believe these are yours.

Haelga:​ What? How?…Where did you get these? No. Don’t tell me. Look, we need to keep this quiet…between you and me, okay? No one else needs to know about it. If word got out that I was practicing my Dibellan arts in Riften, they’ll run me out of town. Here, take this and don’t mention a word of this to anyone, especially, Svana!

AFTER CONFRONTING HAELGA

You:​ I gave the Marks to Haelga

Svana:​ Oh I know. Isn’t it wonderful? I bet she was squirming like a skeever when you pulled them out of your pocket. I think things are going to be a lot different around here from now on and I have you to thank for it. Here, I want you to have this. It was my Father’s but I’m certain you’ll put it to good use.

On favorites:

Unless you show absolutely no interests outside of Creed, Two and a Half Men, Star Wars, pizza and beer, I will not judge you for your taste in music, movies, food and TV. I have some strange tastes in all of these things and know that your life’s path may have led you to an interest in death metal, country, indie or even Gaga. Our time together doesn’t have to involve seeing the same bands in concert or bonding over True Blood or Dexter, though I certainly agree it would be fun if it did. I don’t expect us to like all of the same foods. You will probably like something that I find disgusting and horrific and you might not be able to see past my love of Branston pickle but as long as you don’t try to kiss me with onion or olive breath though, I think we will make it through.

I will not judge you for your (lack of) knowledge of wine. Nor for your favorite travel destinations or choices of art on your walls. If life has taken you on a path where you cannot afford to live on your own, I won’t mind. Though it will certainly make it difficult should we choose to take our clothes off.

If you like to partake in recreational drugs that I am not involved in, I will not be scared away. My body has my own thoughts on these things, but as long as you are respectful, not creepy and still nice to me, it is not my place to judge your chosen form of relaxation. I only ask that you understand and respect my personal choices or limits.

I will not judge you for driving a car or being a cyclist. I will however, take issue with you placing all blame for road problems on one or the other. As someone who partakes in both forms of transportation I see the problems on either side of the coin. I won’t not date you because of your chosen profession(s) – or lack of one – and in fact will be curious to learn about your passions.

Seems pretty easy, right?

Shouldn’t life be easy, really? Alas there are some things that are, and will remain, sticking points for me and I hope that you have your own because otherwise you are undervaluing yourself.

I will judge you for your treatment of others. How you react in the face of poverty, racism, hatred or violence. I will quickly find out and base my involvement with you on your thoughts on equality, politics and religion. The way you treat your friends will stick with me. The way you treat your family will also be of great importance but I will understand when family drama may have driven a wedge that cannot be removed. I will watch your behaviour when dealing with wait staff because it is important to me to not date a snob or an asshole. I will admire you for your honesty, especially when it comes to your fears, insecurities, desires and kinks. I will appreciate and encourage your sexuality and like you more for sharing with me. In fact, I will probably like you a LOT more because sexuality in general tends to get me hot.

Anything else?

And while I will do my best to not judge you based on your appearance, I will base my decision on whether or not to go out with you on how you choose to present yourself. If I cannot be attracted to your looks, even after getting to know you, it isn’t fair to either of us to pretend and I totally get that you might not be down with dating a girl with a big tummy and behind. I won’t think you are any less of a person for not being physically attractive to me and I would appreciate you not reacting in such a manner that suggests I’m a bitch for doing so. I am happy to have a thing for dirty blonde preppy boys, tattooed hipsters or nerds in skinny ties and girls with curves and tattoos in all the right places, but remain open to being attracted to others that don’t fit into those categories. I just make no guarantee.

While I won’t judge you for having your own tastes in … everything … it is entirely possible that I would like you more if we DID share some things in common. Knowing you have experience in kink, non-monogamy, or an interest in tattoos and rockabilly culture would probably work quite well in our favors. It would be helpful for you to understand me when I say things like hetero-normative, BDSM and crusty bread, but remember those things aren’t necessarily related. If I have to educate you on any of those topics we likely will not work out or have any chemistry and that’s just a fact. No reason to get upset about it.

I will demand that you respect my marriage and time limits and put no demands on me that are unreasonable and disrespectful.

And finally, if you understand that I am the main character in my movie and that you are auditioning for a role as a supporting case member. Not everyone is going to make the cut but that doesn’t mean there isn’t another movie out there for you.

Looking further for a moment than our own reflection, we can see that the world as a whole is full of suffering and pain. Today’s news in Norway is a grim reminder that the human spirit can be corrupted so far that right, wrong, moral and immoral become blurry and self-motivation, greed and craziness can take over the mind.

Most of us will never have to deal with picking up the pieces after that kind of trauma but yet we still cannot seem to do without personal trauma on some level. This is not at ALL to belittle anyone or say that their feelings are invalid, silly or worthless – especially when dealing with outside circumstances – but I ask you how much of our own personal suffering is self-induced?
All sorts of relationships contain many classic examples of self induced suffering. Instead of enjoying moments with other people for what they are, over-analytical minds dissect every word, text message, pause and breath, trying to find the deeper meaning. Could it be that we create the illusion of problems because for some deep and dark reason we don’t think we deserve to be happy? Could it be that life is more simple than we give it credit for? Sometimes no reply means nothing more than a phone is dead. Sometimes a blunt reply means someone is swamped or pulled into a meeting. Sometimes we have nothing to do because we rely on others to plan our lives for us and when they get busy we mope and call unfair. Instead of keeping internal analysis at a reasonable volume, people allow it to fill their mind with self-doubt or use it to paint others in a negative light. Rather than keep the door open for potential happiness to come in, how many of you instead allow self suffering to take its place?

The workplace is another classic example as some employees stay in jobs they hate because they choose to not allow themselves the opportunity to push past their daily comfort level and discover where their passions really lie. (Of course, many people are happy with jobs that don’t fulfill them as there as many outside things that do.)

I saw a great billboard on the highway the other day that speaks to my point:

Destiny is not a matter of chance. It’s a matter of choice.

We all make bad choices and accepting that we make mistakes is another area we self suffer. When people fuck up, which we all do, it is not uncommon for self punishment to run their lives for a while, or indefinitely. Instead of conquering the fear of owning mistakes and using them as an opportunity to make things right with people we may have hurt, and gain insight into where own strengths and weaknesses lie; we will often deny ourselves the chance to be happy, feeling personal joy to be undeserved based on previous fuck ups.

It is definitely hard to make mistakes and deal with the aftermath. It is hard to let yourself down, and often harder to let those important to you down, but we all do it. Sure, that fact doesn’t make it better, but remember that while we’re certainly not all raving gunmen, nobody is “dictionary perfect”. True perfection comes from finding the strength to admit our struggles, own our flaws and accept what we can and cannot change. Self forgiveness comes from choosing to not let making mistakes put the rest of our lives on hold.

Life is too short to self-suffer. When we look around the world, everything seems to be falling apart bit by bit, every day and night. There are moments of hope though as people learn to admit their mistakes to others – and more importantly to themselves. Instead of self punishing and denying their own personal happiness, these people work on making whatever they can, in their own worlds better.

You could spend the rest of your life beating yourself up for not doing the right thing, or you could focus on doing the right thing the next time around. How can we begin to expect the world to ever heal if we don’t even forgive ourselves for fucking up, then allowing room for growth, love and self-acceptance?

Unless you’re an evil being who makes a point of hurting and destroying other people, chances are you should let yourself off the hook a little. Give it a try; you probably deserve it.

1. Acknowledge your sexuality.
   Nobody’s saying you have to run in the streets naked, waving a flag over your head, screaming out loud your sexual preferences. However personally accepting your desires, gender, identity, sex drive or lack of one, and being ok with it is a huge first step that many people cannot seem to get past. Embrace those things that make you tick. Find time for self-love. Question guilt and do everything in your power to beat it away with a mental broom. Think of it this way. You wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for sex.
2. Accept people’s offerings.
   I have a general rule that I find takes away a lot of social anxiety when I personally enforce it. If someone offers me something – even if it’s something that might be putting them out – I ask twice to see if they’re sure. If, after two times, they still say yes, then I take them up on it, no question. I remember being that person that said no to a drink when visiting because I didn’t want to make someone work. To get me a glass of water. Right?? Or how I’ve kicked myself for not taking a ride that could have saved me tons of transit time. We worry so much about being polite and making the right impression that we don’t accept the gifts that people bestow on us daily. So while people might not actually expect you to say “Yes please”, try it out. If they don’t like it, they shouldn’t have offered in the first place!
3. Take no for an answer.
   Rejection sucks, whether it’s dating, professional or otherwise, but it’s not the end of the world to hear a no to whatever you are presenting. Standing up for what you believe in is a good thing but is it worth bullying someone into seeing your side of things? That depends on the situation of course and it is difficult to accept defeat especially when we know we’re right. In doing so though, we get to walk in someone else’s shoes, seeing the world through their eyes. This can help us gain new perspectives and strength to move on from the no and focus on getting a yes elsewhere.
4. Own your feelings.
   Not much irritates me more than hearing a “You made me feel shitty.” On the flipside, I hate hearing the hippy dippy BS that is “No one is responsible for your feelings except you.”, but I admit it. There is some truth in that statement. While there are certain examples where it’s ok to put the onus on someone else (You’ve been cheated on / dumped / someone died), for the most part, if you feel something, it’s your responsibility to stand up for yourself and let the people in your life know. Instead of being passive aggressive and full of blame, get over yourself and start working on a solution. Admit how you feel to yourself and others and make sure that they know when you need support.
5. Know what you don’t know.
   No one wants to come across like an idiot so we often do our best to fake our way through life. We lie at work, saying that we can get the job done or we tell our partner that we understand them so that they’ll stop nagging. Most often those options do not work out in our favor. Our inadequacies at work might get discovered by the boss and we end up repeating the same fights with our loved ones because we didn’t pay attention the first few times. Finding the inner strength to admit that you are in the dark gives you a starting point from which to grow from. It also helps you find confidence in everything you DO know, making life that much more clear. Nobody knows everything so remember that when admitting that you’re the same.
6. Change what you can. Accept what you can’t.
   As we grow older, we see patterns in our behavior that can sometimes drag us down, especially when we keep repeating the same mistakes. We question ourselves and beat ourselves up. Talk shows designed around flashy self improvement leave us wondering why our lives aren’t as sparkling as the ones we see on TV. In reality there might be personality traits deep within our character that will never change. Sitting down with yourself and accepting who you are, how you work and what your real thoughts on life are, will help you see where you can actually make changes and where you must say “Aww shucks. That’s just me!” It’s very freeing!
7. Compliment people.
   Sometimes the thought of telling someone they look nice or that did they a good job can strangely make us personally feel insecure. We wonder what they will think of us for ‘sucking up’ to them, or cannot handle the awkward encounter that might occur if we catch someone off guard. So instead of brightening someone’s day and telling them their hair looks nice, or that they really nailed it in that meeting, we keep silent. Try busting out of that and telling people nice things that you notice. Don’t make it up, just say it when you feel it. Sure, there’s a border line that you have to discover for yourself between appropriate compliments and creepy ones, but you won’t learn how good it feels to make someone else happy until you try.
8. Be proud of little victories.
   There’s nothing wrong with having big goals. You might want to lose 50lbs, or get a big promotion at work. You might have a crush on someone and see wedding bells every time they’re near. So you focus on that big goal and find yourself frustrated that it’s taking so long to reach it everyday. Instead of that, try being realistic. Celebrate taking the stairs at work. Celebrate making someone laugh in the office. Celebrate awkward eye contact in the hallway with your crush. Take time to notice the little victories that happen to you every single day that you often gloss over while focusing on the big prize. Each little victory might just be a step in the right direction.
9. Try narcissism.
   Not to turn you into a self obsessed asshole, but take a moment to appreciate and validate your own beauty, inside and out. Sit down and ask yourself what you love about you. Don’t worry about what you don’t love, just focus on the good this time. Try taking some silly photos with your camera or dress up and make saucy faces. Do a really good job at something because you know walking into it that you absolutely kick ass. Whatever it is, just spend some time reminding yourself that you’re probably pretty awesome at a whole heap of shit and there’s nothing wrong with knowing that.And finally …
10. Indulge and appreciate.
    Life is too short to deprive ourselves of everything we want. If you’re on a strict diet, stick to it if you can, but do not get so down on yourself if you veer of course that you consider yourself a failure. Remember that life is all about balance. Indulging here and there, whether it’s food or something else, can be good for the soul. Also, if you recognize those moments when you are indulging, you will gain more control over them and not be so easily swayed into falling into despair. You don’t have to be a hedonist to enjoy life, though it certainly doesn’t hurt.