Every Damn Day in June Mental Health

Exhausted by the Niceties

dark, rainy window

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Finding something to blog about every day for June was never going to be the hard part of Hyacinth’s challenge. I’m too much of a talker and over-sharer for that.

What I didn’t really anticipate — thinking myself immune after all this time — is the worry that no one would want to know whatever I might have to say. But, no, I too worry and wonder if this is more than most people want.

I imagine an angry heckler in the back demanding to know where the tits and the kinky fuckery are. Fuck if I know, mate. I’d like to see a bit of that myself.

But, of course, I don’t write for angry hecklers. I write for myself, first and always. Second for John Brownstone. Sometimes he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on in “that busy, noisy head of yours” (as he calls it) — not until I blog about it. That’s because I don’t always understand what’s going on until my fingers hit the keyboard.

I know I’m tired…exhausted, actually. Part of me wants this vacation to be over already and back to my routine. Another part of me wants to ignore reality a little longer. To keep napping and lazing around with almost no real responsibilities.

I’m eating foods I know make me physically sick, feeding my emotions over the short term, ignoring the remorse I know I’ll feel later. Until the remorse hits, and I can’t look at myself in the mirror. I fear putting on my clothes, positive they won’t fit. Although of course they do. One “bad” meal, one “bad”day just doesn’t work that way.

I walk around composing paragraphs in my mind, unable to utter a few sentences out loud. Beyond the niceties, of course. Always the niceties. I was raised “right” and my mother, although she tries, doesn’t know how to handle my brutal honesty about my anxiety and bipolar swings. So I say the nice things, the polite things, murmuring agreement to whatever others want. It’s much easier that way. Although it’s exhausting, too.

So what’s the point? I’m not sure I have one, to be honest. And that’s exhausting, too.

badge for every damn day in june blogging challenge

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!


  • I wasn’t quite sure where you were going at first with that title, but then I went “…Oh. THOSE niceties.”

    They exhaust me too.

    As do ‘conversations’ about the weather and questions along the lines of “How are you?” from people who are just ‘being nice’. I mean… Mostly I’m fine, most of the time, right? But still. Life, you know?

    So I absolutely understand the worn-out factor. For me, that’s one of the reasons that I always feel like I need a vacation after “family vacations.”

  • You would have fit right in at the day job. Today was dubbed feisty friday. All the assholes and spoiled customers called or live chatted today and, of course, we have to be nice. My coworker made the gagging face and noise after telling me just how sweet she was to the customer (of a customer’s customer btw, aka end user) I had to pass her, who should have just been grateful to get a freebie to be honest. πŸ™„πŸ˜ΆπŸ€

    So happy it’s over. Feel free to come create kinky fuckery and help me mess up my new purple sheets. 😁

    • I saw those purple sheets, lol. And that is why I’m so glad to work by myself. I did my time with the fake niceness and OMG, it was exhausting. I feel for you!

  • Social niceties are terribly draining. It means (sometimes, often times) having to swallow down how you really want to respond (tho at my age I admit that I don’t swallow as much and just say what I think–something one can get away with more as one gets older!). It means nodding and small talk and thinking “just shut up and leave me the fuck ALONE!”

    I may not come read here every day, but I try to stay connected with fellow sexah bloggers, and you’re one of my favorites! Hang in there, sweetie. Family is exhausting and they know all the right buttons to push.

    Breathe. In. Out. Imagine a giant sock-stuffing device in your hand, aimed at the pie-hole of whomever is annoying you at the moment…the magic sock stuffer is right there, ready for you to use…aim, shoot, and instant silence as a pair of socks go *blammo* into their flapping mouth!! Or to put a sexier spin on it, undies. A magic underwear stuffer…! Oh, but don’t giggle because you wouldn’t want to have to explain the why…



  • While it was SO nice to get away from the normal day to day routine for a while towards the end of the week I was missing it myself.
    At the time I was loading the car I was ready to be home again.

    I’m right there with ya!

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