Finding My Voice

Finding My Voice

Published June 6, 2024

Art by Betty Dodson

For most of my life, I didn’t feel comfortable speaking up for myself. I was raised to be a “good girl,” to be “seen and not heard”, to “stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.” My own thoughts, feelings, and wants were diminished, unless they were acceptable to my mother and especially my father. I was taught to put others before myself.  I accepted the role of people-pleaser without question. It’s how I earned love and kept peace in my family. 

Scene: Christmas morning, circa 1966

Inside the wrapping was a red off-brand plastic car made for 11” dolls. It wasn’t the pretty pink coupe that Barbie and Ken drove inside on the pages of the Sears Wishbook catalog. Disappointment filled my heart. Tears and words to express my feelings stuck in my throat.

“Thank you,” I said quietly to my dad and mom. “I wanted a car for my Barbie.” I didn’t want this car. But I was a polite, good little girl. So I kept quiet as I placed Barbie and Ken in the red car. I knew they didn’t like the red car either.

After most of the other gifts were unwrapped, my mom pointed out a package that was far back under the tree. I reached in to get it. The package had my name on it.

When I opened the gift, I found THE pink Barbie car inside, with Barbie and Ken on the box just as pictured in the Wishbook catalog. I was so happy and excited to have exactly what I wanted. 

“Where did that come from?” My dad’s loud angry voice broke my joy.

“Santa must have brought it,” replied my mom.

My father argued with my mother about spending too much money. The cheaper red car was good enough and she shouldn’t have bought the pink car. My mom defended her purchase. My heart pounded and I buried all of my emotions. Yet tears still roll down my face as I write, almost 60 years later.

My eight-year-old self learned that I didn’t deserve to get what I wanted. And if I actually got what I wanted, someone would get angry. 

I grew up to be a polite, “good” young woman. It felt safer to look to others to tell me what I wanted and be happy with whatever I got. If my opinions differed from others, I kept them to myself. I went with the flow. I tried to please all of the people all of the time. I abandoned myself to get approval and love from others. I covered up my deep inner sadness with a cheerful smile.

“You need to learn to love yourself more,” said my therapist to 32-year old me. I had started therapy because I had a difficult time maintaining any kind of romantic relationship. I desperately wanted a husband to create the loving family that I didn’t have. I was flawed and I needed to fix myself. “Ask for what you want and see what you get,” my therapist said. If I didn’t get what I wanted, it was okay to find it elsewhere. Some people weren’t capable of giving me what I needed. It was like going to the hardware store to buy bread. My mind absorbed all of the catch phrases and I repeated many positive affirmations. I learned that I was fine just as I am. I learned that my wants and needs are important – that I am important. It’s okay to prioritize myself.

During this time, I found Betty’s book “Sex for One” and I reconnected to my childhood masturbation practice. I found me and began to stand up for myself. It felt scary but good too. I started to include myself as one of the people that I needed to please. I also started to collect dolls, buying the little girl inside of me exactly what she wanted. I began to heal.

Almost 25-years later, the catalyst for more significant change happened:  I took my first Bodysex workshop with Betty Dodson. I knew that I still had to heal the deep shame that I felt about my plus-sized body. Taking my clothes off and being physically vulnerable terrified me. Going inside Betty’s apartment felt like jumping off of a cliff. I found my courage and opened the door anyway.

I had no idea then how much Bodysex would improve my life. Being naked in a circle of support and nonjudgement helped me receive unconditional acceptance like I never felt before. That experience enabled me to heal the shame and childhood baggage that I still carried in my body. It set me on the path to truly fall in love with myself. 

Self-love brought me strength and power. I prioritized myself and found my voice. 

Scene: My 82-year old Auntie’s house, 2022
It’s the last afternoon at the end of a week-long visit to help my aunt clean and organize her house. I’m setting up the online apps for my aunt’s TV.

“I think we should have a steak dinner tonight to celebrate all that we’ve accomplished this week,” said Auntie.

“Sounds good to me,” I replied.

Auntie busies herself looking up restaurants and menus on her iPad while I continue working to set up her TV apps.

After several minutes, Auntie announces, “Okay, I’ve found a restaurant. Listen to what you’re going to have. You’ll start out with the beet salad . . .”

 I interrupted without hesitation. “Wait, so I don’t get to choose what I’m going to eat? I thought this meal to celebrate was in part to thank me for all of the work that I’ve been doing.”

“Well, it is. I want the beet salad but it will be too big so you’re going to split it with me,” Auntie argues.

“No, I don’t want to be told what to eat.” I asserted. “If you’d have asked me instead of telling me, I’d probably have said yes.”

“What happened to my sweet, docile Laura?,” Auntie exclaimed.

“She’s gone,” I proclaimed firmly.

docile: quiet and easy to influence, persuade, or control: The once docile population has finally risen up against the ruthless regime. Cambridge Dictionary https://dictionary.cambridge.org › dictionary › docile 

I’m no longer docile. Instead, I’m able to “rise up” without hesitation. I use my voice. I state my pleasure.

My aunt didn’t push. We went out to dinner. I ordered a wedge salad.

Bodysex isn’t just about orgasm. Bodysex enabled me to prioritize myself, starting with my own pleasure. I no longer need to please others because I love myself. I prioritize my own needs and wants. I’m able to stand up for myself and speak my mind because I know I am worthy.

Thank you, Betty Dodson.

Join me in a Bodysex Workshop:

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Laura Bogush

Laura Bogush

Cleveland, OH USA

Website
BodysexCleveland.com

Contact:
BodysexCLE@gmail.com

Language:
English

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