Tick Tock

Tick tock. Life ticks by. Mostly mundanely. It’s rough when you hit a patch where “nothing” is happening. Maybe it’s more intense as my ADHD requires constant sacrifices to the dopamine overlords. So, when I fall into a pit that nothing feels like it’s moving, it’s physically painful. This year has been painful. My mind tells me I haven’t done anything. Lies. Healing is not nothing. My mind has been yelling at me that I’m not being productive enough. Thanks to some intensive therapy, I can file those thoughts away under capitalistic brainwashing. I’m radical because I just want to exist. Apparently wanting my life to be mine, and mine alone is blasphemy to the systematic gods. Born into a system that defines me as a person by the materialistic value I can bring to others. I’m overjoyed. Please note that is sarcasm. When the very act of merely existing is criminal. I fear like we may have strayed a bit too close to the sun. And now I’m riding into the sun on the nihilistic horse of philosophy. Getting dangerously close to going insane wondering what the meaning of life is. I’ll let you know when I find it. Right now, I’m an avid subscriber to the philosophy of Absurdism. Mainly because what the actual fuck; insert an image of me gesturing at the general state of the world. 

How do you fight something that you can’t fight? Last I checked punching politicians was slightly frowned upon. And unfairly judged in the eyes of the law. When someone has the power to lord over your life and change the course of your life without so much as a sniff of distain. Then what. I’m quite over the constant yo-yo of feeling like shit within myself and then been told by someone that has investment properties that I’m lazy and not doing enough because I don’t have 500K in savings minimum. I’m profusely sorry I didn’t get born into money; that’s completely on me, my bad. The powerful have deemed themselves the good, but it’s painfully obvious that there is not much good happening. The mask is off. The illusion of “the good” has been thoroughly disenchanted. You can’t really fool me that the sky rocketing price of cheese is in order to protect me from the greater good. My favourite conversation is when I come across someone who points at another person and exclaims that they’re stealing a piece of their cheese. Darling. We share the same block of cheese. Unless you own the factory, or the bank... I have something to tell you. 

When my rent is now the price of my whole first full-time paycheck – when I didn’t have a giant student loan cutting a quarter out of it. My being is fully reduced to paying a weekly subscription service to exist in a liveable box that's not mine. I’m sorry, I’m over it. Having to wait for someone I love to literally die is not how we should be waiting for a roof to be finally ours. I’ve tried to do the "right thing" (Not be a hooker). I worked incredibly hard to no end. Cried in many fridges on long shifts. Put it’s like playing on a broken chess board, with pieces missing while the other player has nothing but Queen pieces. My first year in Sex Work was literally paying for things I needed to replace or needed. The first thing I did when I had a bit of disposable income was go to the dentist. I hadn’t gone in over a decade because I couldn’t afford it. Very party lifestyle of me. Now I have wasted a ton of money, let's be clear, as I never had disposable income before. Went a bit nutty in the second year. I also thought I needed to do I lot of things for Sex Work that in the end. Really didn’t matter (Like getting nails done etc). Another thing I did was go on Holiday. A proper holiday. Which I hadn’t done since I was Sixteen and that was a family trip I didn’t have to pay for.  

Why am I bringing this all up. Two reasons. I’m exhausted is one, of society mainly. Two, is I want to explain what I do with this perceived “easy money” I get from sex work. This year I’ve been in a semi-hiatus status. I think I have only seen one, maybe two new clients this past year. So massive thank you to my crazy regulars keeping me above water. This year I really focused on healing myself. After my surgery last November and I bled out afterwards, it made me realize I needed a massive change in my life. A brush with your own mortality tends to do that. I have locked horns in battle with my PTSD for several months now, and I’m finally seeing some light at the end of the tunnel. Not the deathly kind this time luckily. It wasn’t till I was officially diagnosed with PTSD that I saw how deep it had gone. Its shadow had ruled over me for a good two decades at this point. Puppeteering from the darkness. I’ve spent basically every penny towards healing. Therapy, coaching, personal training, my ridiculous grocery bill, art and creation this past year.

This isn’t a woe is me post. I’ll shoot myself in the foot before I go back to that mindset. I think there is a misconception that someone saying how it is for them, if it’s not overly positive, is now seen as sympathy farming. Thanks internet. Basically, a long-winded way to say: if you pay me, it’s being invested back into myself currently. I know a few of you care where the money goes, and I respect that. My drug is cold brew coffee. That’s as wild as it gets around here. The rest is going towards a copious amount of chicken and broccoli. As I’m not only transforming my brain, but the body I reside in. I have for the first time a solid picture of what I want in the future: Be a hot “milf”, clad in sexy leather riding gear with my motorcycle, in my new york loft style apartment live in art studio, drinking copious amounts of cold brew while writing a novel with my cat. If you want to be part of my journey to get there. You’re more than welcome to join me.  

Stay safe, stay sane xx