When I first saw this 4Thoughts prompt, it instantly reminded me writing about being exposed, because my mom knew my pseudonym. I re-read that post today, and it made me smile. My mom really was the coolest. I read through the prompt, and the first sentence — Social media makes it so easy to expose ourselves — made me think of something else.
Exposure before social media
Something else I have written about before, is how I flashed my crotch at the neighbour — we were both teenagers. I believe I have also written about the series of nudes I had taken when I was about eighteen — actually my cousin took them — and how they were discovered by the people I lived with at the time. The had destroyed the photos and told me if they ever found something like that again, they would tell my mom and uncle. I never did it again… well, not while living with them. All of this was long before social media was a thing, and I remember going to pick up those photos at the shop, wondering whether the people behind the counter might’ve seen my nudes!
Exposed in the past ten years
I started this website in January 2010, and a year later, I created my Twitter account. This was mainly because I wanted to promote my words, but soon I discovered that Twitter was also a place where I could share sexy images. Some of those images also made their way to my blog, and obviously all of the images on my blog also made it to Twitter. I loved sharing my images, and loved it even more when Master T shared an image of me. He exposed me to the world, and I saw the love and pride in his eyes when he did it.
I am a exhibitionist at heart, and deep down I love knowing others see my images and like them. I enjoy reading the comments on my images, but it makes me uncomfortable if someone would say out loud or send me a private message that they are hard because of my image, or masturbating to it. The uncomfortable feelings come because I have no idea how to respond to it. Also because I am always wary that the sender of the message might see a simple ‘thank you’ as an invitation for a sex chat, something I don’t engage in.
Exposure happens here
In the past year my Twitter presence has dwindled, because it stopped being the place it used to be. I have tried many times to reclaim the feeling it gave me up to March 2020, but finding my way back is a long process. I need to trust again.
My blog has always been my safe space, which is why all exposure now happens here. Not only in images, but also in words. Here I share all the happy and sexy moments, but also the hardships of life, like the situation with my son. I share my thoughts, my feelings. Images with and without clothes. Anything I want to share, I share here.
(And yes, I know, that finds it way to social media too, but that’s okay.)
Some things I don’t share
My pseudonym and the link to my blog is something I don’t share easily. My kids will never hear it from my mouth, and many other people won’t either. Some years ago, when my book was just published, I made the mistake of sharing the book with some colleagues, and I still regret that deeply. I should never have done it, and I hope by now they have forgotten about it. If not, so be it.
There are also other things I don’t share. I have written about my son, about his mental health problems and how worried I am, but I have also left out a lot of information, to protect his privacy. Very recently a new medical emergency occurred in our family. I found myself in a position where I sat with my fingers ready to type out a message, but I just couldn’t.
No, that’s not right. I could, but I didn’t want to. Not yet. I would feel too exposed. I think much of that had to do with my own feelings, because I tend to switch off in emergencies, do what needs to be done, and only really feel when things get calmer. It will be a long time before that happens, so maybe the day comes that I will share, and maybe it just never comes.
I guess, just like with my images and my words, I want to choose the moment I expose myself.
© Rebel’s Notes