The Naked Truth

The Naked Truth

It can be hard hiding all the time. However, I myself could be considered somewhat of a Hide and Seek champion of my own life. Now before you get your hopes up, I’m not about to reveal myself as the subject of a decades long missing persons case. Rather, I’m just particularly skilled at keeping my true self under wraps. An anomaly to those close to me and a Pandora’s Box to those who come closer still…

Well, it’s been nine months since I posted my introduction on this little patch of Internet I’ve claimed for myself. What a nine months it has been. I’ve grown and evolved, and also violently killed off my past self who now resides in a shallow grave somewhere deep in my brain. I’ve also lost nearly 4 stone. I’ve went from resembling a plump Bratwurst to more of a Pepperami with tits. If you can successfully conjure up that image. I’ve lived through a pandemic, developed a taste for gin, smoked my first cigarette and indulged in casual sex. In short, I have become an actual human being.

Now, after 9 months of abandonment my grand return may seem a bit obscure. To be completely honest I didn’t know where else to go. You see internet dwellers, I am experiencing what I like to call The Big Sad. This may come as a surprise to people who know me as I am the friend most known for behaving like I’ve dropped acid for breakfast. Yep. That’s me. My lung capacity is so large I can command the attention of an entire performance hall with one bellow. My laugh is so overpowering it can break even the most humourless person. I grin like the Cheshire Cat and my personality can be likened to a child on ecstacy left unsupervised in Santa’s Grotto . But still The Big Sad sits overshadowing it all.

Everybody knows I live to take care of people. I am the mum friend through and through. Something in my DNA seems to call out to broken people like a beacon. Those people with cracks and scars and struggles woven through them. People like me. I seem to be the person that people go to, consciously or subconsciously, and that in itself is an honour. Helping people through their lowest times isn’t the burden people think it is. Although my mother jokes I should start charging premium rates for the amount of time I spend worrying about people as I power through my third pint of Ben and Jerry’s. This post isn’t about them however, it’s about me.

It may come as a surprise that I hate being the centre of attention. It makes me feel as though I’ve appeared on national television stark, bollock naked. My loudness in itself is a defence mechanism. I believe if I project a personality onto people then they can never possibly hurt me because they’re not judging me, they’re judging what they perceive to be me. See? Hide and seek champion.

I guess my problem lately is that The Big Sad is making me realise how much I keep people at a distance. I could tell you a thousand things about my friends but only a small few could tell you anything real about me. And that’s my fault. So internet dwellers I’m using this post to try to teach myself to be more open. To let people in. Because life’s too short to live it on your own.

I’m the type of person that cries at cartoons. I love being alone because I can be as weird as I want to be. I believe in tarot cards and magic. Sometimes I go days without cooking myself a proper meal and other days I cope with the numbness by binge eating until I’m in physical pain. I love books and people who see through my bullshit. I drive around for an extra 40 minutes after I finish work so I don’t have to go home and pretend to be okay. There are days I go out with friends and laugh until it hurts. There are days where nobody wants to come out. Some days I don’t do anything for myself and some days I sing and dance and draw because it’s the only thing that brings me joy. Much to the detriment of my neighbours eardrums.

I want people to know that I’m not happy all the time. In fact 95% of the time I’m really fucking sad and that’s okay. I’m sad because I’ve lost people. I’m sad because I’ve watched people lose themselves to addictions. I’m sad because I’ve watched my friends go through pain that I can’t take away. I’m sad because I’ve lost myself to an eating disorder. I’m sad because I can’t make it go away with alcohol or cigarettes or sex. Most of all I’m sad because I haven’t found my way back yet. But I will.

When I find myself smiling and laughing it doesn’t mean I’m cured of the things that weigh me down. It means that I chose to let myself live in spite of them. All my little sadnesses and all my little happinesses piece together to form the person I am today. Not that other bitch from nine months ago. She’s a dick.

I guess this page of nonsensical rambling has lead me to this point; check on your happy friends. Not all of them will be quivering, emotional wrecks like myself, but make the effort. It might just make their day, their week, their month, or even their year. Too much?

From now on I intend to be more like myself. I’m gonna shamelessly show the world my own perfect, batshit crazy, mumsy personality. The girl that’s there whenever anybody needs her, but simultaneously the girl you might find bawling her eyes out because her cat didn’t cuddle her when she wanted her to. If you do happen to find me in that scenario, just pick me up and dust me off and hand me that fourth pint of ice cream. And maybe even some salt and chilli chicken if you wanna climb to the No.1 best pal spot.

Take care of your weirdo friends and even more care of your weirdo selves.

Remember, crying is the new cool.

Jodie 👽

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