A Crisis of Identity and Finding Myself Again

I began the new year with a bit of melancholy. I was in the unusual position of not knowing what the hell I wanted to do with myself this year. Maybe that doesn’t sound strange or stressful to anyone else, but as someone who is constantly working on some goal, some benchmark, something, it was enough to send me spiraling into my own head.

Until the sinus infection kicked my ass for two weeks.

The nice thing about an illness (if there is such a thing) is that you’re almost forced, by your own body, to get out of your head. My immediate goals were to make it from morning to night without falling asleep at my computer or behind the wheel of my own car.

By the second week, when I could no longer convince myself this was “just a cold” I went to the doctor and got doped up on antibiotics and cough medicine that made me sleepy.

Sure enough, a few days later, I was back to my old self again.

Well…sort of. See, now that the illness was gone, the melancholy was back.

No energy. Exhaustion.

Oh, of course, John Brownstone reminded me I’d just spent 14 days not feeling well. I needed to rest and recover. He even cut me slack on the whole working out/eating healthy thing. Part of me is grateful for his understanding. Part of me wants him to kick my ass back into gear.

This was different. This was mental. Something was wrong.

You have to understand one thing about me, if you know nothing else. When I determine there is a “problem” – real or imagined – I must fix it. The solution must be found. Now.

Driving down the road, I forced myself to dive deep into my own head. What was making me feel tired, overwhelmed, and like quitting everything and becoming a cashier somewhere?

It hit me.

I’m doing too much. I’m trying to be too much. This life I’ve created for myself is too much.

Okay, well, the advice I would give someone I care about has always been: what are you willing to give up?

I thought.

I love my freelancing life. That stays.

I love that I write all day long. That stays.

Kayla Lords? Is this side of my life necessary?

Oh fuck yes.

What about the vanilla side of things?

Well, the client work pays the bills, no getting rid of that – at least not yet.

But what about the blogging, guest posting, constantly looking for someone else willing to let me write and put my “real” name on it?

Did I need that?

Part of me said I did. Then I thought about why.

I’m perfectly content being Kayla Lords. I feel most myself in this space. I’m freer. I say what I think. I have a clear voice. I have a mission. I’m happy here.

But sometime in 2015 I decided I wanted to be “legitimate” in the vanilla world. I wanted to do something I could show my mother. I wanted her to know I was a “real” writer.

So I started killing myself to have it all.

Except I wrote articles that weren’t original, served no real purpose, didn’t help many people, and basically weren’t the best I can do.

My vanilla blog floundered. I wasted hours of my own free time agonizing over what to do and how to do it. Could I turn it into a moneymaker? Did I want to? When would I blog? What would it be about? Could I recreate what I had in this space over in the vanilla world under a different topic?

So much pressure.

It made me sick. It killed my creativity in other spaces. It turned me into a procrastinator, a prevaricator, and someone who looked for an out on most of my responsibilities.

God, that sucked. That’s not me. I’m this weird, type A go-getter type. I enjoy creating long-term goals and plans and attacking them, bending the Universe to my will (okay, maybe I don’t do that).

Here I was, this mess of a woman who would rather dream about what I was going to do than sit up and go get it freaking done.

A decision was made. Something must go.

Guess what? It’s not this space, this blog, or what I do here.

But the moment I decided to stop chasing “legitimacy” in the vanilla world everything changed.

The pressure to blog. Gone.

The pressure to convince editors to accept half-assed pitches on topics everyone else was already talking about. Gone.

The pressure to be something I didn’t want to be in the vanilla world. Gone.

What did I gain?

Freedom. And my own thoughts. My goals, my dreams, my plans – they all came rushing back.

Expect to see some new things around here over the next year. My wheels are spinning. My fingers are flying across the keyboard. I don’t know exactly where I’m going to end up at the end of the year, but damn it, I’m going to enjoy the ride.

I know who I am, and damn it, I’m fucking Kayla Lords – a kinky fucker who just wants to spread the joy of BDSM, masturbation, orgasms, and kinky fuckery as far and as wide as possible.

And I’m so damn glad I found myself again.

About the author

Kayla Lords

I am a sex blogger, podcaster, freelance writer, international speaker, kink educator, and all-around kinky woman. You can find me online sharing my innermost sexual thoughts and experiences, teaching other bloggers how to make money writing about sex, and helping kinksters have happy healthy BDSM relationships. I'm also a masochistic babygirl submissive with an amazing and sadistic Daddy Dom and business partner, John Brownstone. Welcome to my kinky corner of the internet!


    • Those of us who plan our lives out to the nth degree in order to get it all done (spreadsheet lovers unite!) probably all have these kinds of moments from time to time. 🙂

  • Sooooo glad you are not giving up this space. I really enjoy the articles and learning about you and Ssir and helping me decide what I do and don’t want in a D/s relationship and realising that the ones I have had in the past just do not “cut it” with me.

    I am ever hopeful, even at the “ancient” age of 61 that one day Mr Right will come along for me although there are days when I despair of that ever happening. Reading your words help get me through those days.


    • (((HUGS))) I’m so glad I can help…you and others who reach out to me are a big part of why I can’t imagine giving up this space. I feel like I’m actually making a difference for some, and that’s meaningful to me.

  • KL,
    I understand your thoughts very well. I subscribe to you to learn about the lifestyle, as well as a few others. I am seeking a respectful way to learn so that I can write correctly and honestly. Last year, I was encouraged in a few places such as Facebook from friends and colleagues to start a blog concerning the many interests I have, my writing about them, and to consider to get back into the academic side of writing. I have a very complex auto immune disease that daily chemo meds prevents most of the worst symptoms from happening, but before it, I had an episode similiar to what you describe. Only I was a guest speaker and audience member until my speaking time. Thankfully, I had my “just in case” meds with me. I was still sitting and trying to work out the pain in shoulders to fingers with tears running down my face. It was awful and embarrassing. I stood up to speak, wiping my face, blew my nose, and began. My arm was shaking, the pain still happening. I put my y hands behind my back as I’ve seen men holding on to each other and got through my speaking engagement. It was the last public speaking job I’ve taken. The blog failed too, as I started high dose of chemo and literally lost eight months being ill. Now that I’m stable, I’m trying to figure out what is next. I don’t have the energy of three years ago. But I want to write, so I do. At my pace, no one else’s. I don’t know if I’ll be published. There are days when getting out the f bed is a trying ordeal, let alone thinking of returning to conferencing and speaking. I wrote January off too. I’m still trying to figure out the plan.

    • I am so sorry that you’re in such a bad way and have had so many issues recently. ((HUGS))

      I think you already hit on how/what to do: you’re writing at your own pace and no one else’s. Probably the best thing to do is focus on getting a little stronger and recovering from your previous bout.

      In my experience, the right plan, goal, or whatever often hits when I think I have no more ideas. It’s a matter of patience, which I know isn’t easy to have. (((HUGS)))

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