Screw making resolutions in 2019, I want a revolution. Who’s with me? Who else has had enough of the shit-show that is the world right now and is ready to seize the means of production and change the world? I want to make it clear that if you’ve survived this year you should be proud of yourself.
Content note for discussion of depression and suicide. Credit for the blog post title goes to Coffee And Kink with whom I will never tire of plotting to run the world and/or planning to go watch musical theatre.
I’ve been struggling a lot with suicidal ideation in the last month, and it feels amazing that I’m still here, that my blog is still here, at the end of 2018. It’s been an utter clusterfuck of a year – and during it clusterfuck has become my favourite word.
In my personal life, I’ve made big scary decisions about the career I want to pursue, and I found the courage to keep writing when I got outed as a sex blogger. For most of the year, my blog has been the best thing in my life – it’s brought me friends, adventures and mind-blowing sex.
For me, this year has been about learning and growing and trying to be brave. It’s been about accepting that I can’t fight every battle and also that I don’t have to know everything right now. I’m in my early twenties, so I’m allowed to fuck up and make mistakes and it doesn’t mean I’m the worst person in the world.
Maybe I’m making it sound too easy, too clean-cut, but my words are far from eloquent enough to express how my heart has broken this year. Again and again and again. This year has hurt me – a lot. But this is also the year I got (consensually) pissed on and went to Eroticon and started on an academic adventure that makes me excited. I am stronger now and can sometimes find that place called happy.
In my civilian life, I’ve been biting my tongue a lot in the last few months – or pissing people off when I don’t bite my tongue and decide to speak out. I want to be a good person, and I hope that the fact I’m trying so hard counts for something. As a sex-blogging superhero, I’m still finding my feet. Sometimes it feels like nothing I do makes a difference and occasionally I feel so fucking powerful that I want to dare anyone to stand in my way.
I’m an idealist who is slowly learning that the world is never fully black or white but instead fifty shades of shit. I might be more realistic after the last could of months, but I’m no less determined. I’m ending this year angry and exhausted because fighting the whole time is hard – but I’m also not done. In fact, as much as I want to curl up and cry – and sometimes I give in and do so – I’m not going to give up.
I’m going to change the world.
Yet I also realise that to do that, I have to take care of myself as well. Thus, I have a couple of goals to help me continue to work on my mental and physical health. I want to go running more, because I love the satisfaction I get from pushing through and from the ache in my muscles the next day. I also want to get more sleep and take my iron pills more frequently. I want to make more regular GP appointments so I can get my prescription for anti-depressants and not run out and panic. I’m going to keep working through my shit at therapy, and keep making decisions that prioritise myself over my grades or my productivity.
None of these are resolutions exactly, they’re just things I’m going to encourage myself to do. No deadlines, just things that I know will make me feel better – like brushing my teeth and making my bed every day. I am not trying for perfect, or for everything, just for a little more. In fact, I’m only making one resolution this year, just one thing that I’m not going to quit unless my mental illness majorly fucks me over. And that resolution? I’m going to keep blogging.
2019 might not bring a revolution – though I wouldn’t rule it out – but I’m prepared to try to change the world in small ways. My blog is going to be the nucleus for sex-positive activism. I want to write more, create more… change can’t happen overnight or all at once, but I do believe it can begin with little actions – like by encouraging more open conversations about sex, sexuality and enthusiastic consent.
I have a hundred different posts I want to write and stories I want to tell. Some of my dreams are big and ridiculous and some of them are not. A year ago, I’d never have imagined that my writing would be published in an anthology or people would have paid me to write for them. Sex blogging has helped me find and trust my voice, as well as being the most healthy coping mechanism I’ve ever had for my mental illness. I’m excited to use my voice to talk about the things which matter to me.
And if there’s one that I’m definitely going to be talking about this year, it’s inclusivity in media. Writing erotica that includes queer, trans, non-binary, BAME, and disabled folks of all ages and body types is important – so much so that I’ll be speaking about it at Eroticon 2019. I’m utterly terrified.
I want to be a sex blogger and a sex writer, but I also want to be a sex educator. I want my work to add to the accurate, sex-positive, pleasure-focussed information available for people of all sexualities and genders. In the next twelve months, I want to make that into a reality, not just an ambition.
And to the person who told me that I couldn’t change the world for the better by revolutionising how sex education is taught to young people in the UK? Quite frankly, fuck you. It probably won’t be me, and it almost certainly won’t happen this year, but it does need to happen and it would be an act of revolution.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.