The Allure of Rock Bottom.

My fantasy.

Welcome to Shame Sandwich, where Megan feels equal parts shame and glee in sharing hilarious personal thought rants every Friday. Sometimes on shame, sometimes shame infused, and other times, nothing to do with shame. Enjoy responsibly.

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Very Important Authors Note: Today’s newsletter is going to be completely different from my normal sweary, hilarious, Megan Lee shit you know and hopefully love.

If you spent any amount of time with the real me IRL, you would attest to three things: I’m tall. I’m sweary. I’m sarcastic (+ love to laugh).

But if you kept spending time with me, you would also realize that there are layers and layers to who I am. Now, I realize I’m not that special (unfortunately) and we all have layers. Obviously. It’s just that my layers feel more layer-ey, you know? At least that’s what my bitch brain tries to tell me.

And it’s really hard for me to make sense of all my layers. Especially the rougher layers.

Just when I was starting to get comfortable being my swearing, shameful very vulgar self on here, I couldn’t deny the whispers I felt to share more.

Thoughts that brim just below the surface of what’s deemed acceptable to express. And yet I long to express them.

And so, I’m going to express these thoughts. Because this is my shameful newsletter goddamit, and everything in life is more fun once I embrace it as one giant experiment ← what I’m trying to bang into my brain.

Today’s newsletter writing style is piercing, raw, penetrating.

Words that are cutting as they are cathartic.

My hope is that you can see yourself in these emotions, and they move you, inspire you, to feel more deeply.

And to accept the deepest parts of who you are.

That is my wish for myself, and for you.

I hope you enjoy.

🖤

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I secretly long for rock bottom.

I look for her at breakfast.

I call for her at noon.

I seek the horizon at sunset.

I howl and wail while drenched in the light of the moon.

Where is she, rock bottom?

Doesn’t she know we have a dance? Her and I?

I’ve been saving one for her all this time.

Or was it her that’s supposed to be saving one for me?

I’m lost in the torment of pretending to be someone I’m not, desperate for reprieve.

In my darkness, I yearn for rock bottom.

.

Rock bottom strips you of any sort of dignity holding you back from your truest nature.

It shreds any sort of decency you once clung to.

People pleasing becomes a luxury you can no longer afford.

I am desperate for the sweet release of rock bottom.

My mind is consumed with rabid thoughts of becoming free.

.

Drink liquid poison and let the inhibitions burn away.

Pop the pills until all that’s left is the truth.

Slit my wrists and let the pain pour out.

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But if rock bottom is my salvation, why can’t I find her?

Or am I too afraid to find her?

I talk a bold game but I fear I’m a spineless cunt.

Torturing myself with a divided life.

Equally paying lip service to two divides that can never be made whole.

I cling to the illusion of safety when all I really want is freedom.

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To be Fucked by rock bottom. Yes, please. Harder.

Spit upon. Bound.

Ridiculed. Abused. Set Free.

Yes, yes, yes.

Set Free.

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There is such power in pain.

Did you know that? I whisper to myself.

Such delicious power.

For it leads to liberation.

To be Raped by rock bottom.

What can be worse than that?

All my good girl is stripped away by one powerful, penetrating stroke.

All of my people-pleasing is drowned out in my screams.

All of my fear is liberated by my pain.

In my defiling, I am cleansed.

She whispers to me, ever so softly as I lay trembling in her arms:

“You are now free”.

🖤

-M

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p.s. - Can you relate to these feelings? Please tell me you can relate. I wrote this a couple of weeks ago with raw emotion pouring through my fingertips, asulting the page with each word. And I adore it. When I’m feeling trapped upholding an image I didn’t mean to uphold, I long for the fantasy of rock bottom stripping away everything but the truth. Of course, rock bottom really isn’t such a great place to be when you’re in it. But sometimes it’s the only way to escape.

p.p.s - To be painfully honest, it’s really hard for me to share such radically different writing styles under one newsletter. My mind demons insist you will think I’m batshit crazy. I’m still not sure what the future of my writing style will look like here. They’re both so different. And yet I like both. I want to express both. Because they’re both an expression of me. And, my dear reader, when I allow all of me to show up… I am free. 😭

p.p.p.s - Have the bestest fucking weekend. Here’s to living free. 🖤

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