Stripped Awake

As I was clumsily extracting myself from the biz, I was dealing with situations that were uncharted territory for me. I’ve now come to understand that I was — and still am — experiencing a dangerous level of burnout.

I hadn’t taken a break in almost five years.

 I suddenly didn’t want to work anymore, and I began to hate anyone who contributed and benefitted from me being there. The managers, some of whom I had developed friendships with, morphed into creatures I couldn’t recognize. Where the customer was once my friend, I now saw an enemy. 

Why are there so many of them? 

I wanted to scream in their faces. They all look the same to me now. 

Strip clubs are open 7 days a week, some are 24 hours, and always populated. It is a never-ending demand, with never enough supply. 

It began to dawn on me that I have never before functioned in the world as an adult without the strip club being an option. I never even entertained the possibility of living in a world where stripping and the adult industry wouldn’t be a part of my life and very existence. 

And why would I?

a couple years into being full-time , I felt it was the one thing no one could take away from me. Sex-work exists and operates outside of all rights, laws, and societal norms.  And since it would always be in demand, then I would always have business. I allowed this fact to stabilize me. 

I felt like I hacked life.  I’d never have to worry about all those silly little civilian matters.  For the first time, I felt like I was in complete control.  And like I would never have to depend on anyone again. 

The friendships with my fellow dancers and coworkers operated within a different plane of existence entirely, one completely opposite to the real world.  We are bound by our secrets, and the men we pass between us like a silly little game.  In this way, it’s always us against them.

After about four years, I was well-adjusted and committed to the lifestyle of being a full-time entertainer.  I was more than ‘making it work’ for me— I was grossly succeeding…  And I was still maintaining a double life with my family and friends at home. In fact, the money and flexibility that the life provided me allowed me to show up for the people in my ‘vanilla’ life more. 

I’m a sexy Robin Hood I would think to myself.

I felt like I was taking money from bad people and spreading it among all the good people in my life. I felt special and important, as if I knew a secret no one else was allowed to know, role-playing as a mini celebrity and reveling constantly in my own inflated sense of importance. And it was pure ecstasy. No one in my ‘normal’ life asked me any questions, so I never had to talk about it, or lie. I later learned this was my own survival tactic. And that such extreme compartmentalization over such a long period of time isn’t normal, necessary, or even possible for most people.  

I am still in a phase of transition, learning how to be okay with who I am and where I came from. I am still mending my psyche, letting myself come back together. Letting myself be.

 One day, I’ll be whole again.