For me, pleasure has always been a dirty word. Something to stamp out. Growing up I was taught bad girls like pleasure and that I was a good girl.
And pleasure was always tangled up with sex. And since sex was associated with shame, pleasure always seemed like a shameful thing.
So I avoided it. I ran away from pleasure. I tried to be “a good person” but I ended up just being “a tired person.” Someone who worked hard and then snapped at the people I loved. Someone who beat myself up for the mistakes I made. And someone who wore my hard work as a badge of honour. “I am such a hard worker,” I thought, “and that’s why I’m so tired and grumpy.” And about others I thought, “If you aren’t as grumpy or stressed as me that means you aren’t working hard enough.”