Being a Guest on the Biting Lemons Podcast… in the Bathtub.

I was a guest on the Biting Lemons Podcast—the one where you get interviewed in Beth's bathtub surrounded by all things lemony. I said yes because I met Beth a few years before and we clicked. We were both living a gentler life in the Spanish mountains at the time, exploring authentic relating, conscious sexuality and community. Her openness and warmth made her instantly easy to like.

Fast forward post-Brexit and we're both back in the UK, exhausted by the hustle and grind and wishing for something softer. Beth explained the premise of her podcast, the years in fear, on the drawing board, and finally finding the courage to birth it. Her bold and courageous vision was infectious.

Filming day took place on a warm afternoon in Beth's homemade yet professional-looking studio, in the garage, complete with a roll-top bath, rubber lemons bobbing in the hot water. No, we weren't naked — stop it!

It coincided with the ending of a relationship followed by a terrifying period of homelessness, but I was undeterred. It was all grist for the mill, as they say. My desire to talk about the challenges of being a Gen X incest survivor, navigating the justice system over four decades, burned in me. I had a lot to say.

And just like that, the recording was over, and I was back on the train homebound. No post mortem, no overshare hangover — just a tick in my diary and a hope that the editor didn't think I was a complete nutjob.

The episode comes out next month. The 13th of August, to be precise, and actually, I'm shitting it. It's one thing to get in the bath with Beth and talk about sensitive subjects, and another thing entirely to have it uploaded online. What did I say? How did I look? Did my boobs hang out? Do my belly rolls show? Did I pluck my chin hair? I have absolutely no idea. I can't remember a damn thing.

It's not the first time I've been interviewed. Back along, when I was 'The Disability Sex Coach,' I did several podcasts. Heck, I've even done The Guilty Feminist live show and Radio Four's Woman's Hour. But this was different. This was the first time talking about MY journey. MY trauma. From incest survivor to Ex-Mormon to Sex Coach to Menopause Meltdown. No holds barred. Nothing off limits. The mask was off, and I let it all hang out.

Beth has a knack for that. She makes you feel so darn comfortable that it's like talking to a friend you've known for ages. Even so, as the upload day approaches, I'm noticing my anxiety rising, and I'm asking myself why.

Didn't I say that I wanted to get my story out there? Didn't I say that any shame about incest survivorship, hypersexuality, and homelessness is not mine to carry?

And yet, here it is. That dreadful gnawing feeling that I'm about to get into big trouble. Danger even.

I read once that this type of anxiety is called The Witch Wound. An echo of the fear our ancestors felt for being bold, brave and outspoken. When women were ridiculed, persecuted, tortured, murdered and burnt alive. Women who refused to conform, to obey, to stay quiet. Powerful, rebellious, uncontrollable women. The kind the patriarchy hates the most. Feared because we challenge the system and threaten the status quo. Dangerous because we tell our stories and name our perpetrators.

Yes, that's it. I'm feeling the Witch Wound because I'm taboo busting. I talked about religious cults, sex work, incest, suicide, patricide, homelessness, mental health, women in poverty and survivor-led justice reforms. I spoke without shame or guilt. I shared my lived experience and proposed solutions. I dared to have an opinion. To be a dissenting voice.

But the witch trials are now a museum exhibit. Women are not in actual danger anymore, or are we?

Try telling my nervous system there's nothing to be anxious about. To my cPTSD or cPTSI, as I'm now calling it. (The 'I' stands for injury, by the way, because that's what it is. I don't have a disorder. I have an acquired brain injury from repeated exposure to high-stress environments from a young age.)

I'm remembering the time when I told the girls in my school dorm that my father had just been convicted of sexually abusing me and that I had been sent to boarding school to 'put it behind me'. I was eleven years old. They told the head matron, who rang my stepmother. She was livid and screamed at me down the phone. Later I learnt that my dormies were told I was lying because I was homesick and wanted attention.

So I did get into trouble for sharing my story back then and many times since. And I didn't understand why. Why wasn't I allowed to say what had happened to me? Is that when I internalised that my story makes people uncomfortable? That on a fundamental level, it's unacceptable and inappropriate. That I'm unacceptable and inappropriate — a walking, talking trigger. Is that when the mask went on?

But Beth didn't need me to mask. She wanted the real me, and the real story. Her curiosity and non-judgment were a balm to my soul. And the 'brave' space she and her team created, the trauma-informed emails, the practical and emotional support, even picking me up from the train station, all helped to calm any anxiety I had that day.

So emboldened was I that I didn't plan what I was going to say, and gave even less thought to my appearance. I didn't cover up my grey roots, I didn't manicure my nails, I didn't fret over the extra kilos. The goal was to be me, shameless and guilt-free.

I trusted that whatever came out of my mouth was what needed to be said. That, however I looked that day, half naked in the bath, was good enough. It wasn't an attractiveness contest after all. This was vulnerability and authenticity on steroids.

The question then isn't what will others think of me; the question is what will I think of myself. By whose standards am I measuring myself anyway?

So on 13 August, Episode Four, I'll press play and try not to inspect my chin, my boobs or my belly rolls. I'll listen instead to the woman who was finally asked to tell her story, without being sent away, shut down or called a liar.

The bathwater may have gone cold, but I'm only just warming up.

You can listen and watch the podcast on YouTube. Link below.

Biting Lemons - BL Biting Lemons is a podcast with a twist. Rooted in authenticity, we invite you into an honest, quiet space where real…