Why I decided to talk about sex in someone else’s book

I don’t consider myself an expert about sex or sexuality. In fact I don’t talk about it much, and to be honest, still turn a bit pink in the cheeks if the conversation heads south.

So why then, would I contribute to a book about sexuality, by and author who is always talking about sex?

Nine months ago I had a choice.

I could write about my experience of embracing my sexuality and have it published in August McLaughlin’s book,  Embraceable: Empowering Facts and True Stories About Women’s Sexuality, or I could keep my experience and memories to myself.

I decided to go with Option A, even though this is how it felt, and still feels:




I chose this option because of another word.


The story of embracing my sexuality, (and by this I mean accepting that I am a sexual person, with desires, and oh, by the way, THAT’S OK) has to do with accepting all of me, and giving myself a voice.

For a long time I lived in a world where I thought I was supposed to hide my sexuality. And when you ask someone to hide a part of themselves, you are asking them to hide their voice.

I’m not hiding my voice, or any other part of me any longer.

And I don’t want yours hidden either.

When you take away someone’s voice, you are taking away the very core of the person, their heart and soul. This has a knock-on affect. Anything from perpetual people-pleasing, co-dependency, to eating disorders.

Or in my case, all three.

What also lies within a person’s heart and soul is their sexual expression. Our voices and our sexuality are tied together, perhaps one and the same. I have had both of mine quieted. You may have too.

Both your voice and sexuality is innate. Natural. They are not bad.

I’m not talking about promiscuity, adulteration, or using either your voice or sexuality to get you something you want.

I’m talking about owning who you are. Your passions. Your desires. Your beauty. Acknowledging what you are attracted to.

There is a way for women, and men, to embrace their sexuality, and in doing so embrace all of them.

Whether it looks like my girl in, ‘An American Girl in Italy’; confidently walking down the street knowing we are OK as we simultaneously emanate beauty, or freely doing the deed itself (or how about just life?) without guilt, shame, fear, or letting yourself be used.

This is what August’s book is about. This is why I contributed.

Perhaps one voice can liberate the other.

I hope you read it and find freedom.


The story of the Driftwood

A tribute to love, grace, redemption, beauty. For all of us on a journey. ‘Recovering’ or not. ‘Eating disorder’ or not.

Life: As told by the Driftwood

I once was a tree. Strong. Grounded. Bountiful.

One day the wind came and knocked me down. I drifted down the river into the sea. I was knocked around by waves; beat up by rocks. Battered. Swept away to foreign shores. I thought this was the end.

Until one day some one saw me. They thought I was beautiful. They thought the carved out lines that I called scars, added character.

They were celebrating love that day and thought I was a worthy enough object to remind them of love.

They took me home, just as I am. Gave me a home, and a purpose.

I now shine light once again.


Guess what. You’re a driftwood too.