Friday, April 28, 2017

Dysfunctional Whore Drama

Don't become a sex worker if you like feeling worth something.

People will make it clear they don't value your life.

Men will say they care then be abusive.

Women will be jealous, worried you're sleeping with their dude, don't even think about dating one.


I stopped on this 📪 of a FB friend to comment recently because I remember making posts like this and feeling this way. Anger. Bitterness and Pain. Pain that I didn't want to ever admit I had in any overt way except that my posts were screaming to the world “Can you FUCKING feel my pain? Don't you fucking care about me?” because i knew they didn't.   The tricky part about being the owner of the lips that speak this truth is that they are often super quick to spit venom at anyone who dares to call me them a victim, even though we are screaming from victim mode. Dont you dare point out my own pain to me.  “I am NOT your fucking BAND AID solution, FUCK your band aid.” she will say and throw that shit to the ground even if it might have been useful.  The words might vary but the meaning and reaction will be the same.

So i stay away usually.   I learned the hard way that NO ONE LIKES UNSOLICITED ADVICE or coaching.   EVEN if they are on Facebook asking for comments.

We recently observed another International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers. My mentor and best friend Scarlot Harlot veteran sex worker activist referred to it as IDEVASW and I didnt even know what the acronym was. “oh is that what the kids are calling it these days? I didn't know. I'm out of the loop.”  Annie Sprinkle and myself and I'm sure there are others both concur that we stay away because we have each been verbally attacked and traumatized by other sex workers at  IDEVASW events.  so now i avoid the whole scene.  Sex workers are a highly  traumatized community and it can be a volatile and fragile place to spend time for some. Mainly for those that have transgressed the violence with some method to survival and appear to be “happy hookers.”  Happy hookers are not welcome at an event where the names of the dead and murdered are being read out loud. Happy hookers are not welcomed by the unhappy hookers. Sometimes they try and succeed in taking away your happiness.  It can be a misdirected stab a thon where no one is spared.  The attack can wound you so deep you have to seek therapy to heal from the violence you received as a result of attending an event intended for healing violence!  

Its a difficult internal problem that i have long given up trying to solve. But this day as i was reading updates on my wall i stopped to comment because the old me still remembers what it feels like to be on the world's MOST HATED LIST. But perhaps it was all in my head.  Not that the disregard to sex worker lives was imagined, just that the REALITY I CHOSE WAS TRULY IN MY HEAD. We create our own realities based on the stories we choose to tell ourselves on a daily basis, then we attract results and situations that reflect this inner truth. I didn't learn that was true until years later after I decided I was fed up with my results and committed to changing my focus, to changing the story echoing in my head.  I commented,”Well what are the amazing and GREAT things that being a sex worker has showed you about the world and people?” i wrote in her comment stream.  Offering a reframe...treading lightly, expecting a defensive punch in the jaw at any moment...this coming from the words of the compassionate lifecoach but mostly coming from the former sex worker who has also felt these same feelings not too many years ago. I was attempting to refocus her story.

“i'm not in the mood to be a happy hooker right now.”  GOT IT. “i’m totally not being that, i just saw your post and stopped to show you some love.” she gave my comment a thumbs up.

And i sighed relief that she didn't hit too hard.  This is what i feel whenever entering these spaces be them physical or online headspaces. I'm too sensitive to absorb these attacks because I'm not a front line soldier armed with my own quick ego defenses anymore, and because I've been unfairly and cruelly ripped down while singing on stage last year at an IDEVASW event last year, among other violence I've received from other community members.  I'm not as tough as I used to be. Ive allowed myself to get soft and I've allowed myself to see the world and the people in it in more ways than are currently offered in the sex worker community.

This also brings different choices.  And one of these choices is to avoid people and situations that are potentially volatile for my own protection. A part of me keeps some groups and pages on my notifications so i can check if anything has changed, but unfortunately the last time i tried to offer solidarity to sex workers on one of the red umbrella pages when backpage shut down someone ran up to me with a reactionary comment knife and i left it without argument so she could think she won that battle. But in truth what i didn't have the energy or desire to write in a place where she would ignite into an argument was that “All i said was “im in solidarity with you but i guess you wont allow me to do even that. arguing with other whores is neither a good use of your or my time just going to let you think you’ve won even though you’ve done absolutely fucking nothing to solve the greater issue at hand in any way except temporarily stroke your ego.” i said nothing. And in this case silence equals non violence. Dysfunctional whores can suck it amongst themselves.  They dont want me and i dont want them. Anti. Social. Just Me. Lone Warrior. Peace.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Journal of Times I Might Have Forgotten How Painful if Not for Saving Old Journals

7/28/11 Another close race to the 1st of the month. Just used my lil disposable income to place an Eros ad. they only charged me $95 this time. I am STILL recovering from Monday. I will NEVER use this shit again. Its just my little codependent tendencies. I succumbed to the loneliness of the PNP hell. Pulled me in. And now I am even more alone with it all. I simply can't believe that I spent 8 months allowing his mediocre shit head coke/meth snorting lame ass into my body over and over. Today was going ok until it became just like a work date and I got scared. I just can't believe how much my body is being ravaged by this drug. But I guess its good because it really shows me how awful it is. Just like Carlos. He kept me on his "payroll." His lame ass. I was his cheap little dirty fuck and I loved it. Good ol Destiny Inn off the freeway. I have to drive past it every time and I have flashbacks. He sucked me in so easily because there was no one else who gave a shit. No one else wanted to hold me in the world. I was so very alone and I know exactly why I needed him. There was nothing else but my own loneliness to comfort me and it was so so sad. The last time we got high I was not having fun. It was as if I was coming down almost immediately as I went up. It was scary. I am obsessing over my ok cupid profile. TMI as always.

What a perverse addiction it is....but we all NEED TO EAT. or at least that's why I always tell myself afterwards.

I needed a lil drugs....a lil money....and...a lil LOVE. And really the amounts indeed were just that. Little.

A lil drugs cuz the lack of money, a litl money cuz the lack of love. Just the basics in doses I tried to be in control of...If that is an addiction then I guess I'm just a basic neccesity junkie phening for another cure for my lonely cries aching for someone to hold me, kiss me sweetly. It could be so much worse. I'm so glad I am blessed to live and continue to give.

I came to you cuz my pockets were in need. You were the only one there willing to let me stay the night. Some-BODY to hold and receive my love. The love that I have been dying to give someone deserving. 7 days ago I purposely self destructively, self harmed myself in an effort to PURGE this man's evil and ugly connection to my beauty. I did it in a way that was somewhat risky and somewhat reckless but in a way that I knew would not be too dangerous.

It was an amazing high for about an hour. And then it was all downhill from there...

7 days it stayed in the muscle fibers of my body nasty chemicals infusing my pure heart full of LOVE THAT HE NEVER DESERVED. I sometimes asked myself why but I was able to finally analyze every aspect of why I went to him each time he called and i was able to FORGIVE MYSELF for having the desire to have my basic needs fulfilled. My tank was running on empty and he would offer to fill me up. Not a lot, just a little and then...always the inevitable disappointment. For 7 days I felt physical pain in my body which served as a reminder of the drug that I never shall put in my body again.