Things I learned to survive that no longer serve me
So it’s January 4th and I have to admit – this was the best new year I have ever had.
On December 31st, racked with flu, I went to bed at 10PM and then woke up at 6am ready to start the new year.
This year (last year…It’s still Decemberary the twenteenth right now in my head) I didn’t make any resolutions, I didn’t create a vision board – in fact I vibe coded the fuck out of Notion to try and set up the database for my new year.
So this new year is all about Project Laura: A continuous work in progress (Which is actually gonna be the title of my VERY FIRST HOUR LONG COMEDY SPECIAL!) – It’s definitely happening people!
(Just giving a little picture into my world right now. It’s 8:02 am, I have Swiss Jazz playing, a delicious filter coffee next to me, the window is open, I’m under the blankets and I am so bloody happy. I do have a chest full of mucus but meh – I’m grateful that my body is fighting this infection – good job white blood cells!)
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I have had the biggest shift in my mindset ever since I first discovered the world of Pokémon at age 10 – and yes – I’m not doing this alone. Behind this transformation are some wonderful writers, podcasters and entrepreneurs who are inspiring me to change.
So in this post I want to talk about some of the lessons I’ve discovered that I need to unlearn so that I can fully awaken “the goddess within” and honestly – my goddess is awesome. She even has a sparkly pink construction helmet.
Why unlearning matters more than learning
I currently think of myself as going through the phase of having “rich white women with gorgeous hair screaming positive affirmations at me”.
These women shout a lot about what we need to learn: confidence, boundaries, self-worth, communication – which are all great skills to have in your arsenal. (I teeheed at “arse”)
But lately I’ve realised the bigger work for me is unlearning.
These aren’t random habits. They’re strategies I built to stay safe, loved, wanted, and not abandoned. They worked once (kinda).
They don’t anymore.
This post isn’t about blaming myself. I can’t control what society shoves down my throat.
It’s about noticing the patterns that have seeped into my sense of self worth and have controlled my life. And deciding – do I still want them?
(Short answer…fuck no.)
So here is a list (because I know SEO loves this stuff) of lessons that I am currently unlearning. (Continuous work in progress).
1. Sex as Performance
I’ve been performing since I was about 5 years old. I remember being so proud that I got to read a REALLLLY long word on stage “reservoir” during school assembly. I was a narrator for the nativity play. I then started playing recorder (and I seriously rock that instrument) and performed during music festivals until I was about 18. After that I joined a dance club, started doing Burlesque and stand up comedy. So I’m used to performing.
I know how to give an audience what it wants.
My sex education was porn. I started watching porn at about 14 and seeing those women, moan, scream, do things that degraded them and being rewarded with a very happy sexual partner.
I learnt:
- That good sex means being impressive.
- That pleasure is something I deliver.
- That my value in intimacy increases the more I can give, endure, adapt, or exceed expectations.
- Somewhere along the way, sex stopped being something I experienced and became something I managed.
- I watched reactions. I tracked outcomes. I felt responsible for the result.
The result of this – I wasn’t even there! My body was physically there but my essence, my soul, my presence was definitely not in the room with us.
What I’m unlearning:
- That sex is not an audition.
- That I don’t need to be a fantasy to be desirable.
- That my body doesn’t owe anyone a “return on investment.”
- Unlearning this means letting sex be slower, messier, quieter, or even unfinished—and trusting that I am still wanted when I’m not performing.
and it is (excuse the pun) fucking hard.
2. Sex as Transaction
“You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours” – but make it more explicit.
I used to use my body as currency. It was a small price to pay for the feeling of being “desired, wanted, loved” – and unfortunately the exchange rate wasn’t really in my favour.
And I can understand the confusion of my lovers when I felt I’d spent enough to secure a relationship that I stopped investing myself. (Basically I stopped having sex with them because I didn’t want it).
And yeah – the relationships then suffered and eventually fizzled out.
I’ve often used sex as a way of reducing guilt.
One guy built up some furniture for me. I felt guilty that he helped me so I slept with him – you know…to make things even.
I learnt:
- If I give enough—attention, availability, enthusiasm, generosity—I earn closeness/security.
- If someone doesn’t come, connect, or stay, I’ve failed the exchange.
- This turns intimacy into a silent contract: I give → you approve → I feel safe.
How did I learn this?
Toxic partners.
One ex boyfriend said to me “I took you out for dinner. I paid for it. And you don’t want to have sex? You’re so selfish”.
This activated my anxiety and so…well you can imagine the rest.
What I’m unlearning:
- That intimacy isn’t a deal.
- That desire isn’t a reward system.
- That I don’t have to “pay” with my body to be chosen.
Unlearning this means allowing sex that doesn’t lead anywhere, doesn’t prove anything, and doesn’t secure a future—and not interpreting that as rejection.
3. Wearing Masks (Even when naked)
Right now I’m wearing my Snorlax pyjamas, my nose is filled with green mucus, I have dark shadows under my eyes and my hair – well don’t get me started. My breath smells of a mixture of vitamin C drink and black coffee.
No one will see me like this.
I learnt:
- There is a version of me that is easier to love.
- More fun. More sexy. More agreeable. Less complicated.
- So I learned to wear her.
- In relationships. In groups. Even in bed.
- The irony is that I can be physically naked while emotionally camouflaged.
I became the ultimate “pick me” girl. I put on the mask to become socially accepted.
In fact, the only time when I’m authentically “me” is when I’m doing either A) Improv or B) Stand up Comedy and in both times I’m protected by the barrier of “the stage”. So no one can really get close to me.
I’ve always been a people pleaser. One part of my comedy is where I talk about “Simon Says” – I seriously rocked that game. I definitely wanted to please Simon.
My mum always told me that “your face is tripping you” – which is a funny image to have. But I was never allowed to be moody, sad, upset. Because that was too much work.
In the professional world I was told “Be careful what you post” (this was during my burlesque phase) “clients might not want to work with you when they see these images”.
In a rare act of self confidence I said to the guy “thank god I won’t need to work with those people”. But I then hid behind the “professional” mask.
I’m a business woman. Business women don’t have sex, do burlesque, play video games.
What I’m unlearning:
- That being palatable is not the same as being authentic.
- That if I’m always fine, flexible, and smiling, no one ever meets me.
- Unlearning this means risking awkwardness. Be prepared for a 2026 filled with “awkward turtle”
- Letting my face fall so I can trip over that motherfucker.
- Letting silence exist.
- Letting people react instead of pre-emptively managing them.
4. Saying sorry as a reflex
I’m British. We have a LOT to be sorry about. So much that it’s really ingrained into our culture.
The Brits even made a board game called “Sorry!” (which tbh is based from the Indian game Pachisi – which given our history…kinda checks out). And we used to play this game a lot as kids.
I was taught to say sorry a lot.
I learnt:
- Sorry keeps the peace.
- Sorry makes me safe.
- Sorry softens other people’s discomfort before it turns into conflict.
- I say sorry when I take up space.
- When I change my mind.
- When I exist loudly, slowly, or differently.
But did you know that saying sorry is an admission of guilt? I KNOW! Mind is blown. This is why in all the courtroom TV series the lawyer will always say “Whatever you do – don’t say sorry – because then you admit guilt and give the power away”.
This is a big one to unlearn but I’m working hard at it and I’m SO proud to give you an example.
A guy on instagram has been bothering me recently with a lot of messages. He’s been chasing me for a few years and now that I’m single, the messages upped their intensity.
A few days ago he wrote me (in German but I’ll paraphrase in English)
“Let’s go for coffee together. I think you’re a really special and amazing woman and I really want to get to know you. So tell me – do you want to get coffee with me?”
Now I know the message seems nice and sweet but this guy has a lot of red flag behaviour.
I didn’t want to get coffee with him so I replied
“No I don’t want to get coffee with you. I don’t want to meet new people right now”.
He replied with
“Please be honest with me. Don’t mess with my feelings”.
I replied “That was honesty. And if you don’t like it – then unfollow me”.
Now in the past after I had read “Don’t mess with my feelings” my impulse would have been to say “I’m sorry but…” which means i’m admitting guilt to “messing with his feelings” and NO – I’m not responsible for his feelings.
What I’m unlearning
- That my needs are not an inconvenience.
- That discomfort isn’t always my responsibility to resolve.
- That I don’t need to apologise for having a boundary, a body, or a voice.
- Unlearning this means pausing before I say sorry—and asking myself:
- Did I actually do something wrong, or am I just afraid of being too much?
This is a journey.
It’s not an easy journey.
It’s a squeezed in the middle seat on a Ryanair flight which departs at 6am and my suitcase has been put in the overhead compartment at the back of the plane because I was too slow to board the plane and next to me is an old man with a cold who keeps sniffing, and another man with BO while a toddler keeps looking at me from the seat in front of me.
But it’s a journey with a destination and I WILL MAKE IT.
Unlearning doesn’t mean I suddenly become fearless or perfectly healed. It means I notice when an old script starts running—and I don’t automatically follow it.
I am still learning how to be present without performing.
How to desire without bargaining.
How to exist without apologising.
And maybe the truest version of me isn’t something I need to become—
it’s someone I get to meet once I stop unlearning myself away.
Unlearning isn’t about becoming better. It’s not about self-improvement. It’s self-return.
Thanks for reading!
Laura xoxoxoxo
(Update – it’s 9:00 now and there is a beautiful rendition of “Cry me a river” playing on the radio).
Lessons I've Learnt being me 