I almost deleted my last post. I rarely even consider that. No matter how raw or controversial or unsure I am of what I’m writing, I always see value in keeping it posted. As the group I’ve spent the most time with here in Toronto can attest, I let my freak flag fly pretty quickly. Luckily, they are all bad ass.
Anyway, I was embarrassed about my last post. Alcohol is really the only drug that I use that can lead to embarrassing moments of potential regret. But, instead of deleting it I decided to reflect on it and revise it a little bit.
First off, I realized that I drunkenly wrote about sex for two reasons, one fairly direct and one more indirect. The first reason was that I was hoping that by posting that someone at this event would see it and want to hook up. That’s kind of a longshot because I only know of one person who really knows of my blog and I doubt anyone is spending their free time reading my randomness. Posting it was a way for me to be passive, to feel like I was doing “something” when I was really doing nothing. Writing like that is about as likely to get my some intimacy as liking Facebook prayers is going to stop world hunger. I wanted intimacy without effort, I didn’t want to put my ego out there because I have fairly low self-esteem and a distorted image of myself.
The second reason is that talking about sex is a way that I cover up my need for intimacy and physical touch. Maybe it feels more masculine (in a toxic way) to be chasing sex at all times, even at a death conference, or maybe it is something else. Regardless, talking about death all day and literally writing out how I want my last moments to be is a very raw, deep, and intimate process. And I’m someone whose love language is “touch”, so when I am feeling deep and raw and emotional I want to express that through touch. My partner is a thousand miles away and I am an introvert who is painfully aware that it can be threatening for a male to try and initiate touch, so instead, I write about it where very few people will notice it.
There are definitely more things that I want to write about this experience and I am going to publicly post my plan for a good death, vigil, and rituals that I want to have completed when I die. I used to think that I didn’t want anything special but the more I think about it the more I want to be a little fucking selfish. So, that means all my loved ones will have to hear a few Kesha songs, drink some hoppy beer, and do things my way.
I’m a little sad for all this to end and I wish I would have gotten to know everyone even better. I feel really close to my little table tribe (there are five of us) and I am going to miss them. This was such a bonding experience and they are all super cool. I hope we stay in touch… actually no, I’m not going to rely on “hope”. I’m going to make a strong effort to stay in touch by email, snail mail, or smoke signals.
Post-Script: Last night I went down to the hotel bar and drank beer while watching the Stanley Cup. Canada should just issue me a citizenship right now. Though, as fun as that was I feel like it was kind of a failure. My therapist has been gently encouraging me to be more outgoing and strike up conversations with strangers but I never got the courage to do that last night. I just sat there and drank beer by myself and felt slightly confused by some of the things I saw on the ice.
Wanna stay in touch? Got a question for me? Want to tell me why I’m wrong and are curious how I got everything so backward? Have an idea for a blog post? Drunk and wanna send me a Snapchat? Wanna become penpals and send each other letters in the mail?
Feel free to reach out at any of the ways below while I take a Facebook break!
Email address: email@example.com
Questions: pneiger.sarahah.com or www.surveymonkey.com/r/XYRDXHH
Also, I wrote a book about a cross-country bicycle ride I did!
“Wandering Oak: A Rite of Passage”