My aunt died very recently. I have very strong memories of her. She was often present in my childhood, and, apart from my mum, she(read more…)
I find that I am much happier and able to communicate better when I feel that I’m writing as Ina than I am when writing under my ‘other name’. It’s a weird piece of mindset that I feel stronger as a writer as Ina, less likely to care if I have a bad review (although don’t get me wrong, that’s still pretty horrible), and, most importantly, I feel more able to write as my authentic self using a name I wasn’t born with, married into, or adopted in any other way. What do I mean by that? I simply mean that, as Ina, I feel free to just… create. And to create my way.
“I’m absolutely terrified of being tied up.”
“The thought of a blindfold can make me physically sick.”
There: two things that only a very limited number of people know about me, and even less of them understand, or try to understand. Very few have watched the change in my demeanour and behaviour if I come into contact with items specifically designed to restrain, or the way I burn up and my eyes fill with tears at even the mention of a blindfold coming anywhere near me or, by extension, the very mention that it might.