I’ve written about how I’m not kink enough.
Now I’m concerned that I’m not blog worthy. Hell, let’s just say I’m not life worthy. I’m an imposter, something Kayla Lords writes eloquently about.
My sister and I began this blog. I didn’t think I could do it alone, even though I did all the research, read those I admired, had a plan on how to enter the sex blogging community. I didn’t think I had enough to write about, or that my writing wouldn’t be strong enough, or diverse enough. So, I invited my sister into my idea – less scary to jump in alone, and I already knew she was brilliant and talented. Not to mention that she had the most unusual sex life – far more exciting than my own. I asked her to start Sinful Sundays simply because I didn’t have the confidence to be seen – a point she couldn’t believe I asked of her but she flourished under the supportive community until I tip toed in. See how self doubt and comparisons crept in before I ever leaped?
This space here brought us closer. It also caused arguments as my flighty sister in her exciting life couldn’t commit to a post, a timeline, couldn’t be bothered with the responsibility. But we got over those – we were always each other’s biggest supporters and every single thing that she contributed was appreciated and far more than I could ever write. Towards the end, her health halted things on here; she wanted to go towards more of the photo side and show her face – a dilemma that had her creating her own space where she began with old photos, but even though I fully had the reins and was managing it all here, I was rallying for her to begin her own creative journey once she became well enough to do so. I was also curious how soon it would take to pass up on this space – one she had helped create. I’m sure it was only a matter of time.
And now she’s dead.
When I first began writing my own stories, they were all about my husband. Impersonal erotica at first, and then a glimpse into our marriage – and then our problems. Now this space, my end of the stories, are more journal type though they are relationship and sex centered.
And now he’s gone.
I feel that they took a piece of me with them – I don’t feel that I deserve to be happy. I feel that I have nothing to write about and no support system to continue this blog – they who were every nook and cranny of the foundation space here.
Sure, I know that I have ran this blog successfully, and that everyone deserves to be happy and pursue their aspirations, but I feel like…
The truth is, I’m unsure what to feel. I’m putting one foot in front of the other, I’m pursuing a relationship with Mr. Texas, I’m being unsuccessful at creating an environment that is multiple-relationships friendly, I’m living a lie.
Every time I felt unsure of myself, I could call my sister. I cannot anymore. I reread her cheerleading words sometimes and they just make me feel more despondent – because she was life in itself and I am nothing more than a fraud pretending to live.