I’ve pissed people off before, or perhaps offended slightly, but never before have I been the butt of strangers’ anger.
I’m open to intelligent debate on what I write, but ultimately this is my blog and I will not approve comments that bad mouth me, belittle me, rant on about what an arsehole I am or doggedly argue with me.
You can call it warped censorship, but I call it MY blog.
At 37 years of age I am well aware that I will never please all of the people all of the time, and all I can follow in this venture of mine is my moral compass.
It has been suggested that I am self-serving and selfish and I’m exploiting a young girl.
I would like to reiterate, that I am telling a story of one woman’s experience with her child. It is an interview with one person. I do not need permission from two separated parents to interview one parent.
I’m not putting the child on hormone blockers and neither is her mother. It’s not a debate about the ins and outs of gender confusion, it’s just their experience, and how they’re living with it.
Using real names and images was never my call. It was arranged between the mother, child and publication.
If that makes you wish to crucify me, go right ahead. I have done no wrong.
I am not dogmatic in the slightest. I’m riddled with insecurities and want people to like me. Just like I was in high school only now I have better hair. My skin is still sketchy.
I am honest to a fault and I’m endeavouring to pursue an authentic role as a story teller.
I write about swingers, and I write about families with disabled children.
Is that more socially acceptable?
In this era of the superficiality of social media it is not easy to remain uncynical, but perhaps I am actually coming from a place of honesty?
Is it not possible that I simply want to shine a light on all the dark corners on life so we can all have a greater awareness of our fellow man, and know that we all have frailties and weaknesses and they don’t make us any less valuable as humans?
People use drugs, spouses have cyber affairs, marriages may not be what they seem, mums get depressed and struggle to bond with their babies, people have mental breakdowns, people starve themselves, gorge themselves and cut themselves.
Masturbating is fun, drinking too much isn’t a sin, and sometimes we are all scared.
It’s just life.
I write about life. I write about people.
I write about stuff. What I do, or what I try my best to do, is honest storytelling.
No hidden agenda.
Fame and fortune would be bloody awesome, but realistically MasterChef or Big Brother is likely to get me there before this writing gig.
If the stuff I write makes you uncomfortable, I apologise, and with no hint of malice I suggest you stop reading my blog because there will be more stuff that makes you feel uncomfortable.
I don’t feel discomfort from the messy stuff in the world. I embrace all of the wacky and wonderful differences that there are between us that create the tapestry of our lives.
I’m intrigued by the different. Intrigued by the messy.
Life is not tidy.
It is beautiful chaos.
PS Happy Valentine’s Day, homies.
If you like what you’re seeing, why not like my Facebook page now as I have a little spiel there.
You can also subscribe via email, or follow me on Twitter & Instagram at The Holsbys to be sure to always keep up with the Holsbys.