I have recently approved a comment that was made on this blog 2 years ago by a person(s) identifying themselves as a “Natural Family”, on a post that is now over 4 years old. The post is “How to become a nudist“. Here is the text of the comment (corrected some grammar):
My wife [and I] were always nude at home from the time we were married. Six years later our first child came into our life, a daughter. Because we were always nude we never gave it a second thought. About six years [later] another daughter came to us and all through the [pregnancy] our eldest was [curious] about mommy’s belly growing, so we told her why. So now I’m the only nude male in a house of females. As the girls became older they would [inquire] about daddy being different then them and mommy, so explanations were given. As they started to develop, and very quickly, I would get an occupational [erection] so my wife would release my pressure right then with no questions asked and nobody was [embarrassed]. Our youngest daughter gave birth to a son who is now a preteen and he has always been around all of us being nude and he is now getting [erections], so one of the four of us have taught him how to personally take care of his stiffness. None of us have a problem with nudity or sexual [release.]Natural Family
When I first saw the comment, I wanted to delete it. But something stopped me and I let it stay in a limbo of pending comments for a future me who might figure out what to do with it. I’d forgotten about it as some things in my life began to change. I’d stopped looking at the comments entirely and I only approved new ones through the e-mail I received when someone submitted one.
Recently I was thinking about what to do about this blog. Clearly it’s gotten way off the original topic I’d intended for it, but I wanted to keep it as is in order to tell my story as I have been doing for some time now. And then I noticed this comment and faced the same dilemma I did two years ago.
It took me about two days to figure things out this time around. First of all, there was taking the comment on face value. Even though I’m certain there are people who would scream “sexual abuse” at a mere thought of parents having sex in front of their children, that’s not what happened. There is no abuse as the children were free to leave and assuming otherwise is unfair as nothing in the comment suggests it. Or any other kind of abuse, for that matter.
Then I wondered about whether I want such content on my blog, to discuss sexuality in such manner. This is what stopped me from approving the comment in the first place. I had to dig a little deeper to get to the answer which I finally found out was – yes! I do want to discuss sexuality in general. And I don’t want to stigmatize any discussion of sexuality and any sexual practices, as long as they are based on mutual consent.
Not to mention how I have often thought that I would myself like to raise my children in an environment in which they can feel free to dress or not dress as they please. And more, to feel they can discuss sexuality openly.
I was raised in an environment where sexuality was never discussed. When I began asking questions about where I came from, I was told that a stork had brought me. When I had my first experience with another boy it was all very new and very exciting to me, but when my mother found us there were no discussions, no lectures. I was paraded naked through the village I lived in and that was it. When I asked for dating advice I was snorted at. And so on.
As such I have done some things that I now regret, some that took me a long time to recover from, and some that have made it difficult to express my sexuality to its fullest extent even now that I am married. Making sexuality a taboo subject was a great disservice to me.
Should I go to another extreme then and have sex with my wife regardless of the whereabouts of my children? For me personally, the presence of a child would be an instant turn-off, especially (but not just because) knowing that they would be asking about what we were doing, so no. We have, however, had sex at night in bed that we co-slept in, but that was different because the child was unaware of what was going on, whereas it would’ve been aware and curious had it been awake.
Still, I do believe that it is absolutely necessary that we discuss sexuality openly, especially with our children. As a parent I would consider it my failure if I had no idea how my child felt about these matters even before it hit puberty. This is a particularly sensitive issue today when so many people are trying to push their own agendas and a child who had never been briefed about any of it can easily get lost (especially in the ever-growing LGBTIQA… initialism).
When I think about this and how I would have felt discussing these matters with my parents, I get a sense of disgust and revulsion. But that is to be expected given their (lack of) attitude towards the subject (or towards anything their children might have needed guidance about in general). Children who have been raised differently and are properly bonded with their parents, who – during rough times – view their parents as helpful partners, rather than adversarial bullies (or uninterested), should have drastically different responses. Or so I think, at least.
As I was mulling over the comment left by this person, I was just going through the process (and I still am) of recognizing my Jungian shadow, particularly as pertaining to my sex life – parts of me that I repressed due to various circumstances of my childhood. Although I am perfectly able to enjoy what would be considered “normal” sex (with or without foreplay, penetration, thrusting, maybe change position, done), I find that I am aroused by a number of sexual activities which are on a huge spectrum of what is commonly discussed when sex is discussed, and what is virtually taboo. Some of the things I enjoy even enter the domain of S&M, even though as it now stands I am not big on hurting or being hurt for pleasure (I have learned over time that it is imprudent to say I would never enjoy a thing; for one, I used to say I would never ever run barefoot and that those who do are insane – and consequently I spent a great deal of money on expensive minimalist equipment before I realized that being barefoot is actually best).
Because of this I was able to see the damage that silence does (or better said – did) over time. And so I decided it was time to end the silence. I’m aware that there are some forces in this world that would keep me silent on this matter in particular, but I have come to truly believe that the path to the liberation of the soul is spoken truth. That’s the only way to bare your soul – to speak the truth, your truth as you see it. That’s far more complicated than it seems because the truth can be so nuanced that it becomes incredibly easy to misspeak. I often catch myself saying something that I see is not true even as I speak it, then have to track back to where the (unconscious) lie started and retry telling the truth. And it can be dangerous to tell the truth. Some people would rather not tell the truth – or worse, they would rather that others did not tell them the truth ever. Some would rather wrap it up in a small lie in order to make it more palatable – like that conspiracy theorist in Stranger Things who watered down his vodka so as to make it easier to drink, then giving the public a partial truth, wrapped up with a lie that was easier to believe, about what was going on in Hawkins.
We (I) don’t normally think – like the characters in Stranger Things – that our truth is so fantastic that it would be hard to believe. Instead, we think we would be believed, but we lie because we are conditioned to think that we would be judged poorly if we spoke the truth. It’s so incredibly easy and so tempting to speak a simple lie, rather than delve into the complexities of the truth of what we truly feel and what we truly believe. My problem has always been explaining things to people. I never liked it, partly because often enough I myself didn’t have a full explanation and any discrepancy was met with an incredible amount of scorn; and partly it was because I was just too lazy to open my mouth and give explanations to people who I often knew were not paying any attention to them.
It’s actually incredible how blunt those people can get! I recently spoke on the phone with a person who called me, asked a question and the answer was non-trivial. When I was done explaining I realized that they had been talking to someone else all the while as I was answering the question. When I confronted them about it, instead of apologizing, they actually attacked me for calling them out on it. When I told them to repeat the gist of what I had said, I could tell that they expected a certain answer and didn’t care or expect to hear anything else. So, not only do I have the problem of needing to say a set of very complicated things (some of which I myself may not fully understand), there is also the problem that a) nobody wants to hear it and b) even those who do seem to express curiosity are prone to assuming the answer to their own questions. It’s maddening!
Which brings me to the issue of knowing how to speak the truth. Knowing the truth is only the first step; knowing how to say it is the next. I also noticed that knowing when to say it is crucial too. I sometimes notice that certain things are best said in a small window of time when the opportunity presents itself. Any earlier and it’s just plain weird and any later and it seems as if you’re desperate (which is kind of true as you do want to get the truth out). It must be done after the opportunity presents itself and before the conversation moves on. That means that you should have no doubt about what the truth is, unless perhaps you can phrase it somehow to indicate that you believe there’s something there to explore, but aren’t sure what. And it also means that you are confident enough to say it. Because sometimes we lie because we are cowards, because we are doing something we know is wrong in some way and don’t want to admit it, because we’d rather stay unfamiliar with our shadow.