My second life. A place I thought was an escape from my own world. A veil of darkness I could smother my own feelings and thoughts with.
I was a working girl. It began as a mere way to make money fast. As a Gay woman, I thought I had the ideal way of shutting off and the ability to sleep with men in a detatched state of mind.
As I painted on my face, my souless eyes stared back at me through the thick mascara that coated my lashes.
For months, I continued on in this role. As if on auto pilot, I intricately unlaced my corset night after night. Man after man. I used my dissociative tendencies to convince myself this type of lifestyle was one which required great strength, my opinion was that my ability to be two people would protect me from being left with psychological mindfuck from this type of work.
I eventually got out of the game, my self harming becoming a daily occurence which in turn meant I couldn’t take my clothes off to make money.
Months went by. I returned to a normal job, a normal life. I thought my mind set was back to normal also. I didn’t see what I had done as a big deal, and felt no remorse, regret or disgust. My sex life was not effected and I had no issues, or so I thought.
It has now been over a year and a half since I gave up the game and returned to nursing. A few weeks ago, completely out of the blue I broke down. I was reduced to tears, a quivering mess.
My past had caught up with me.
It is funny how your brain operates. When you are in a crisis or hard times, It is like your psyche has an ability to protect you from the harsh truths. File away painful things within the deep, dark corners of your memory.
When you are emotionally in a good place, and equipped to deal with such trauma and thoughts…your brain releases that information so you can deal with it and move foward.
It has now been two years since I gave up working. I haven’t self harmed for 5 months now. I have a home. A partner. A life I feel I deserve.
And we all deserve happiness.
