processing pain, karmic debt and coming out
Yeah, it’s been a while. I’m still getting caught up with emails and life.
Obviously, my life has been in upheaval for the past couple months. I’ve been barely holding myself together since October and moving at the end of April pretty much capped it.
The relationship is over. That pain has been dealt with. The pain I’m still dealing with is what happened to me and how/why I let it happen. Though I can’t really speak publicly about it, I’ve been threatened with various actions if I reveal too much. This blog has been censored since Day 1 and is still being censored. It’s a concern, but not a vital one for me to address at this moment.
Which leads to my karmic debt. So many people, including a lot I’ve never met, have offered support and help in various ways. And it has helped. There is no magic wand to make things better, but being alone makes things much worse.
You’ve let me know I am not alone.
There isn’t enough I can possibly do to repay the kindness shown or the tolerance for my recent flakiness.
The more unfortunate side effect is that my personal energy is at an ebb and I have little energy to give to those who also need it. Several other friends have had crises too. But then, that’s what a support network is for. My small sisterhood of sex workers have been wonderful. There is so much love the outside world never sees and completely fails to understand.
un-retirement
This isn’t really the post I’d been re-writing in my head over the past few months. And it has nothing to do with the recent scandals.
Things haven’t been going well in the relationship for a while. Some of you know that, some don’t. There really is no good way to write this, so I’m just writing and posting, no editing for weeks (which I usually do).
My retirement will come to an end soon. It’s harder to say in public than I thought. It really is. I still am not ready to articulate everything I want to publicly share for anyone else who might be going through the same thing. I have anxieties and fears I did not have the first time around. I have a plan, as always. That’s not the problem. But I can’t plan against my own concerns.
I doubt the tone of this blog will change much. I’m not going to turn this into a typical escort blog where I dissect my clients in public. That’s not me. It’s not going to happen. If I do discuss work, it will be in my usual oblique way.
This has been brewing since October. And it became clear in early February that the relationship was irreparable. It’s sad and painful. More than I had thought it would be. I’m feeling bitter and that’s a first — possibly in my entire life.
A few months ago, when discussing this with a sex worker friend, she told me that everyone who retires for a relationship eventually comes back. I don’t see this as a statement on the people involved so much as a statement of murky waters of relationships and expectations in this society.
I tried to be something I am not. And what I am is not what he wants.
She told me I would have to deal with the pain on my own, and she is right. She also told me that she (and others) would catch me when I stepped through the door. There’s a mythic-journey aspect to changing one’s life (again) and a doorway is the right metaphor. It’s now open and all I have to do is step through.
See you on the other side.
please note
This post was removed with days of posting. I’ve re-posted it as of 7/2/08 because I would rather have my blog uncensored, even if it means I misstep every now and then. Plus, I’d like to think I’m the captain of my own ship again.
learning lessons
Well, I had a brush with media yesterday — in an uncontrolled fashion.
A writer for one of the Dallas Observer’s blogs today called and spoke to me briefly. He wanted to interview me. Sure.
Instead, he just used info from my book’s site, a Dallas Morning News article that quoted me (yes, they did briefly interview me) and mashed it together with some humor.
It’s irritating because I don’t get the chance to say what I want, how I want. Not that I put anything online I am not certain about, but there’s so much more that can be said in conversation’s give-and-take that can’t be done with a passive online posting.
And the need to score guy-humor points is irritating. Why do guys always think girls are simply set-ups for their jokes? Especially if it involves sex?
The comments following the posts really take the cake. I don’t think anyone posting there knows me (pretty safe assumption). I’m ready to re-word the old adage “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all” to “If you can’t say anything remotely intelligent, don’t say anything at all.” But then, I think the Internet would cease to be.
good job
The whole Spizter mess has thrown the division between civilian women and sex workers into high relief, moreso than the DC Madam thing. (Maybe I’m more aware of it.)
Growing up, I participated in school sports. At the end of every game, the teams would line up and pass each other, hands out at waist level, meeting palm-to-palm and say “Good game” or “Good job” (imagine a really gentle high-five at waist level). Prayer started every game; this little ritual ended it. Most of the time the coaches would join the end of the line. Sitting out of the line was unthinkable – I don’t remember anyone doing it (though some girls didn’t touch everyone’s hands). It would’ve been heresy. Both boys and girls teams did this starting in Little Dribblers or T-Ball and all through high school.
I have to wonder, if I did the line today and the other players knew my history, would they still touch my hand and say “Good game”? Would they refuse? Would they say other things under their breath? Would some of them turn away because they had secrets? Would they see me as an equal player, though not equal in life?
Of all the girls’ hands that I touched, how many of them would be willing to extend it again in the spirit of sportsmanship and acknowledgement of an equal?
a lech, a pimp and my rage
These two random memories surfaced a few weeks ago. They both happened while I was stripping, though the incidents were separated by a year or more. What I find interesting in revisiting the memories is my angry non-reaction. I think it’s a woman-thing more than a stripper-thing. You be the judge.
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Notice of copyright: The After Hours blog is copyrighted (c) 2002-2008 by Amanda Brooks. All rights reserved.
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Personal Update (7/2/08)
Book #2 is on its way. Slowly. But getting there.
I'm finally ready to rejoin life. Slowly, too.
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Geeky
I've discovered the pleasure of working with Brian Gardner's WP themes. His free stuff is nearly flawless and his more expensive stuff is mind-blowing. Although his work is easy to use right out of the box, there's infinite fun to be had by customizing (i.e., destroying) it. As you can see here.
